Chapter 17

The worn pages of her old diary lay open on the bed. Each page written in a sloppy manner telling one or another story from those distant years. She didn't distinguish too well which ones were real and which were not, for her hand used to make up different stories from time to time to somehow let go of the fact that her life wasn't that interesting. Perhaps she had underestimated herself, though.

She read.

"Tuesday, March 4.

I lost my glasses case again, and hopefully my luck will be good again and I can find them right where I left them. Mother couldn't buy me any others.

I have been reading some new books and everything reminds me of him, some stories seem made to remind you that your life will never be that interesting. I'm not complaining, as some characters live hell inside their oh-so-interesting lives. I refuse to call myself boring.

I wanted to tell you that these days I have been thinking about my future. I'm not in a good place and Mom wouldn't let me go see Dad, although I'm sure the idea of running away is tempting. My future here looks completely blurry and I can't find even the slightest reason to stay. I'm so tired."

Wow, so much grief all together. She sighed. She had yet to see her father more than ten times, and she never would as he was no longer alive.

Lately she thought a lot about him and all those memories she had forgotten over the years. She believed that nothing in the world could take away that emptiness, not even if she could see him again. Those were lost years.

She didn't blame her mother, for she was sure she had her reasons for taking her away. And while the idea that her father was an abusive person made her think she was better off away from him, the eternal doubt of what their relationship would have been like weighed too heavily on her. She had never had the opportunity to explore it.

She refused to continue reading because those pages would only bring back memories that she preferred to keep far away, and she closed the journal. She left it on the bedside table and settled into bed. It had been a long day.

Tiredness did not take long to make her fall asleep, for after five minutes she was in seventh heaven.

Suddenly, there it was, in front of her.

A chill ran through her whole body as she saw the woman in front of her bed. In her hands she was holding a gun and it was pointed at her head. She didn't have much time to react. Her face paled and the room was freezing.

"No...please..." she murmured in desperation as his feet slipped on the mattress. She couldn't make out her face.

"Only you are missing" he replied.

They were dead. That was what he meant. He had murdered them.

"No, what did you do?"

She jumped off the bed onto the floor and tried to get closer to the woman. She fired and the shrill sound of the bullet hit the window. She could not make out her face. As best she could, she got up from the floor and left the room. The corridor, dark and cold, stretched for yards and yards, and at the end of it, a light pulsed in one of the rooms. She ran, but her slow steps made it impossible for her to approach. The woman was close by. She looked back and a few centimeters separated them, a meter at most.

Her legs were numb, stiff, impossible to move.

Suddenly, a searing heat burned her cheeks and his nose burned. James's voice was heard down the hall;

"Luna, Luna!" he shouted.

He couldn't, he just couldn't.

Loud banging on the walls made her despair even more. She cried.

"I'm sorry...I can't, I can't," she said, hoping James could hear her. Her voice was barely strong.

The pounding began to sound louder, and louder. James's voice repeated her name in the distance. Her breathing was almost nonexistent, as was the heat.

-Luna! - She heard and a loud bang woke her up. - For God's sake, you have to get out of here!

The door had been broken. James rushed over and forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders. She began to cough.

The smoke-filled room was lit by orange flames, coming from the bathroom. They were spreading across the carpet and much of the curtains. Her sleepy brain couldn't quite grasp the situation.

She fell with a thud to the hallway floor. James stepped away as he re-entered the place and desperation caused him to react.

-No! James! - she shouted and quickly got up from the floor. She tried to enter the room but couldn't stand up. Her lungs were burning.

Rose, who rushed over, pulled her away from the door. James came out within seconds and ordered everyone down to the second floor. Where is Portia?

The siren of the fire department could be heard in the distance as they descended the stairs and the darkness was leaving as the lights of the truck approached the house.

Her soul came back to her as Portia peeked through the front door. Her face filled with tears and her whole body trembled with cold and fear.

It didn't take James long to go over and hug her as the chaotic house filled with uniformed men.

Once everyone was outside, James turned to Luna. He asked.

-What the fuck happened, Luna? Are you okay?

-I... I don't know, I was sleeping and suddenly you appeared there. I don't know what happened, James, I don't know. I'm fine, I just feel a little dizzy. - she answered with her face full of tears. Her eyes were burning.

-Don't worry, the ambulance must be nearby.