Lacquered Love

The screeching of the car was the breaking of my heart. My life, my sister, died before my eyes. Time slowed and sped up, all at once. I saw her smiling face turn to panic. Her eyes widen, her mouth open. The driver in the car echoed her face. Horror. The red car collided with my sister. The sounds of her petite body crunching with the vehicle sent me into a frenzy. Red splattered across the window, into the street. I shrieked and ran to her. I knew already that she was dead.
The police arrived. They found me on my knees before the carnage. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the body that once was my favorite thing in the world. A man tried to move me gently, but I refused. He had to pick me up. I remember fighting him, punching him. I couldn’t just leave her there.
Days went by before I showed any sign that I was sane. I ate nothing, I didn’t sleep, I sat alone in the dark. I accepted only the comfort of my cat. When my dad tried to enter my room, I screamed at him to leave. I didn’t go to school for over a month. I seemed as lifeless as my beloved Charlotte.
I avoided her bedroom like a mouse avoids a cat, for fear that I would fall back into my state of uncontrollable depression. I ran past her bedroom, keeping my eyes forward, trying not to acknowledge the very existence of the room.
I was home alone one sunny, spring afternoon. Both my parents were still at work, and I had the house to myself for several more hours. I loved being home alone, what teenager doesn’t? I sat in my room on the computer with music playing. I heard a strange creaking noise, and turned to see what on earth it was. I froze. Charlotte’s bedroom door was open wide. I stared at the door, and slowly rose to my shaking feet.
I could see into her room for the first time in months. I saw her Hello Kitty bed, her pink walls, her kitty posters. My feet worked on their own, and I moved towards the bedroom. My heart thumped loudly in my ears. I felt my hands go sweaty.
“I’ll close her door quickly...” I said to myself.
My trembling hand reached for her doorknob, but I saw something move in the corner of my eye. My cat was sitting on Charlotte’s bed on the other side of the room.
“Come here, Ghost,” I demanded, making kissing noises, “C’mon...”
My white kitten stared at me with her large blue eyes, and meowed once. She lay down and showed me her belly. I groaned.
“Dumb cat,”
I stormed into the room and grabbed my cat. I was going to storm right back out, that had been my plan, but I saw something strange on Charlotte’s bed. Under her teddy bears was a burgundy box. I let Ghost go and picked up the box. On the lid was a gorgeous picture of some sort of Asian village. I felt the smooth outside, and wondered what it was. It seemed very out of place. I tried to open it, but it was locked. My eyes scanned the room. I didn’t want to go through mu sister’s stuff looking for some small key, but I also wanted the box open.
I considered breaking the lock, but I didn’t want to break the box. I sighed, and brought the box into my bedroom. I placed it on my bookshelf and decided to ask my dad about it later.
A week later, and I still didn’t have the box open. I was frustrated. I cried numerous times wondering about my dear Charlotte’s secret. Everyone could tell I was thinking about her again. My homework wasn’t being done, I wasn’t answering my phone, and I was wearing the earrings she had made for me.
Monday morning. I had a test that day, and I hadn’t slept the night before. I mechanically put clothes on and reached for my earrings. My hand froze. My fingers ran against my home made earrings; tiny keys. My heart raced.
I grabbed one of my earrings and with a shaking hand, reached for the box. I fit the small key into the lock and turned it. Click.
I began to cry. I figured it out. And clearly, it was something clever little Charlotte wanted me to find out. I opened the box and looked inside.
There was a seashell. I picked it up and examined it. It was long and pink. It shone in the light, turning a lovely pearl colour. I smiled through my tears. It was from our vacation two years ago. We had collected shells together, but dad didn’t let us bring any home. He said they would stink up our rooms. Seems Charlotte loved this one too much to let it go.
I kissed the shell and placed it beside a picture I had of us hugging each other, taken days before she had died.