Memories From a Dead Girl
Twenty
My fingers slipped along the wall, trying to find a light switch. I heard Chloe laughing at something in the living room. Someone was with her, but I didn't know who. It was probably just some guy, as usual. No one ever reprimanded her for it.
As I found the switch and flicked it on, light filled the kitchen. Chloe looked over at me from her spot on the couch and stood. She held her hand out to whoever was with her and they walked toward me. I was busy making a sandwich when they approached.
"Olive, hey."
"Hi," I mumbled, a piece of cheese in my mouth. I looked at the guy she was with — he was cute, with messy brown hair and kind eyes — and shrugged.
"This is Austin," Chloe said. "Austin, this is my younger sister, Olivia."
"I remember you. From the college, right?"
His lips turned upward.
My mouth went dry as the memory escaped me, bringing me back to the present.
To the present where I was currently dead, and my sister and former boyfriend not only had a history of being together, but were also, it seemed, going to find out the truth behind what happened to me. Maybe it would be better if they just left things alone.
But I couldn't tell them that, anyway, so I just joined them on the street after they left the coffee shop. They were still discussing what they thought happened back there, with the table. They'd never guess I was the reason.
Chloe had invited Austin back to her apartment. They sat on the couch, talking about everything: movies, TV, books, music — anything but me. I took a seat on one of the chairs by the window and tilted my head.
I couldn't figure it out. Didn't they want to know more?
The phrase talking things to death came to mind.
It was much later, after the sun went down that Chloe said, "I think she's here."
As I found the switch and flicked it on, light filled the kitchen. Chloe looked over at me from her spot on the couch and stood. She held her hand out to whoever was with her and they walked toward me. I was busy making a sandwich when they approached.
"Olive, hey."
"Hi," I mumbled, a piece of cheese in my mouth. I looked at the guy she was with — he was cute, with messy brown hair and kind eyes — and shrugged.
"This is Austin," Chloe said. "Austin, this is my younger sister, Olivia."
"I remember you. From the college, right?"
His lips turned upward.
My mouth went dry as the memory escaped me, bringing me back to the present.
To the present where I was currently dead, and my sister and former boyfriend not only had a history of being together, but were also, it seemed, going to find out the truth behind what happened to me. Maybe it would be better if they just left things alone.
But I couldn't tell them that, anyway, so I just joined them on the street after they left the coffee shop. They were still discussing what they thought happened back there, with the table. They'd never guess I was the reason.
Chloe had invited Austin back to her apartment. They sat on the couch, talking about everything: movies, TV, books, music — anything but me. I took a seat on one of the chairs by the window and tilted my head.
I couldn't figure it out. Didn't they want to know more?
The phrase talking things to death came to mind.
It was much later, after the sun went down that Chloe said, "I think she's here."