The 161 was always late. As I waited, I reminisced back to the many journeys I had made on that bus, glancing around to the familiar surroundings that I almost considered my second home. I looked fondly at the grey pavement with cracks the council had promised to fix many a time but, unsurprisingly, had never done so. I surveyed the black chewing gum dotted around everywhere that looked slightly like a piece of life-size abstract art that belonged in the Tate Modern; I wondered what it would symbolize.
I felt the cold, hard plastic seats beneath me; saw the deteriorating council and their unkempt gardens; heard the heavy drone of cars on the nearby dual carriageway; smelt the pungent scent of urine left as debris of an over-indulgent night out. The gentle autumn breez
...e lifted the leaves-all shaded different hues of red and gold-into a gentle seasonal dance. Droplets of rain began to fall heavy and fast, before long water was streaming down the edge of the road. Thunder rumbled deep overhead, a flash of lightning lit up the slate grey sky.As the wind began to pick up, people struggled to keep on their feet, forced wherever the wind decided to take them. As the day turned to night, my mind began to wander.
.. I remembered the time about fourteen years ago, when I heard something that fuelled my reason for existence ever since. I was eight at the time but the memory has never faded, it feels as if it was yesterday. It was 10pm and I should have been asleep.
However too much sugar and excitement left me in high spirits. My cousins
and their families had come down to visit, which in itself was a rare event.It was also my birthday, though, so an exception had been made, the day had been one of celebration: the children probably had too much cake and the adults probably had too much Babycham. As a special treat, in honour of my birthday, my parents had decorated the house with colourful, if not garish, banners, these banners, although a kind gesture, did not correspond to the di?? cor of the home I had lived in my whole life. Large and sweeping, the house was clearly Victorian and the furnishings reflected that: sturdy yet decorative in deep purples and maroons.I sat on the stairs, a thin nightshirt covering my shivering body.
My mother and uncle were talking quietly in the room below. All of a sudden, they began shouting. As they shrieked, feelings of concern and longing overwhelmed me, I felt my shivers become gentle tears. From the words and phrases that I heard, I began to get an idea of the subject they were discussing.
They spoke of my baby sister who had died who had died at just eight weeks old. At the time, everyone had tutted and sighed about the tragedy of cot death.It was as if she had never been born after the funeral; the death had been swept under the carpet and never mentioned again. Now, however, a new twist had been unearthed.
My mother screamed about how she always knew it was not cot death, the screams descended into despairing, mournful sobs, my uncle turned on his heel and walked purposefully towards the stairs; I knew
this was my cue to sprint to my room. Those snatches of conversation had haunted me ever since. The slam of a car door brought me back to reality with a jolt. I saw, only a few metres away, my uncle stepping out of the car.My mind took over any rational thoughts there may have been and as he walked briskly along, I stood up, brushed myself down and began to follow.
All the time I kept my eyes fixed on the short, slight figure about 50 metres not too far ahead. He turned into a lane surrounded by thick woodland. I became part of the shadows, weaving in and out of the darkness- careful not to be seen. The sturdy oak and the fragile elm waved their long limbs around me, hiding me like a well-kept secret. They whispered to me reminding me that I shouldn't be here.A large fence appeared before me, obviously the border of somebody's land however, now my only route was blocked: there was no way other than to walk directly behind him.
As I ran a lone twig broke underfoot, my uncle turned. His face was a picture of horror: almost a mixture of fury and puzzlement. Immediately all my unanswered questions came gushing out of my mouth like water pouring from a waterfall: "What happened on that fateful night? " "Where? " "Why? " He slowly raised his hands and bowed his head. The bright, half moon shone over half of his sallow face, giving it an eerie look.
He began to speak. "I know this must seem strange but believe me, all is not as it seems. "
He drew a long inward breath, sighed and continued. "On that night you spoke of, your birthday, your mother and I discussed things that I had never revealed to anyone. You remember your mother's sister, your aunt, and my wife? Well, about a year before your sister died or was even born, we suffered very upsetting difficulties in our marriage.
By this point, I had turned to someone else, your mother for a relationship. Unfortunately, your baby sister had been conceived by the time I wanted to break it off.I had not wanted any more children, so we agreed that no one should discover our affair and the baby would be brought up by your unassuming father. I felt my anger rising at the way he so casually treated my family; I gripped the cold, metal object in my pocket. "I was sat in your sister's room, I watched her sleep and felt the kind of yearning that I had never felt before, she began to cry.
Something inside me flipped and I covered her head with a pillow. Suddenly, I realised what I was doing and stopped but it was too late"I felt rage burning and bubbling in the pit of my stomach as I grasped even harder. I wanted to make him sorry for all those years when each year my birthday wish was for my life to be as it was before. To avenge my sister's death. Make him pay for those shards of normality that I was so thankful I had no choice.
I gripped the gun, aimed, closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. A shot echoed through the trees,
causing birds to take to flight from the trees above. Other than that, complete and utter silence surrounded me. The smoke from the gun cleared to reveal a limp, pale corpse. I feel empty.
Numb.
