shewalksonm3

[shewalksonm3]

stale orange soda had been residing in a soda can which had been opened long ago and old packets of food impregnated the air with the scent of rot.

a thick layer of dust had found its place on the counter top - the table, and other horizontal surfaces of the once lavish apartment which was now a magnificent mess.

a cadaver lies on the sofa, skin yellowish, waxy, eyes wide open and empty. flies, birthed by the stench of the slowly deteriorating corpse spun around it endlessly.

and last, but not least, a photo sat on an antique side table portrayed a family of two: a mom and a daughter.

lilith had always been a strange girl, in one way or another. not exceptional in any way, not outstanding from a certain viewpoint. nothing good came from her individuality.

while she was alive that is.

in social interactions, it was like her mouth was glued shut. in school, she always kept a low profile. in her love life, she couldn't remember her last boyfriend's face.

it had not always been so, but most of her life she had been alone. vague memories would still trouble her sometimes: memories of times when she was something, when she still had potential, when she still had her youth, her innocence. the last call she had had with her mother was the last call she ever had.

her mother, agatha,was a 51 year old woman, calm and tender, as a mother should be. she knew nothing of her daughter's dearth.

she had woken up after the 7 hours of sleep she had managed to get, then walked up to the kitchen in her nightgown. she brewed herself a decaffeinated coffee, not too strong, in one of those adorable victorian tea cups she had inherented from her mother. it was a slow morning, a sweet taste of well deserved relaxation. she went out to the balcony, sat down on the small wooden chair and placed her cup and the coffee table next to it. her train of thought took her to the deepest, the most forgotten parts of her memory as she watched a cloud of steam leave the brown liquid.

she was a child once, somebody's child. she too had a mother once. now she was one, now she had a daughter.

she used to take her daughter to the playground near their old house. the dye was crumbling off the swings and the slide had a big hole in it at the bottom due to the rust. the bench next to it was barely usable, lacking 2 of the 4 planks placed horizontally. lilith was 4, a large smile, a missing tooth, long, blonde hair in pigtails and a green tshirt she had gotten from her grandma the day before.

they lived peacefully, at their own pace.

their household was filled with kindness.

but that was long ago.

lilith grew up. her hair had become darker, a light shade of brown. she never smiled anymore.

her mother had become older, and as she had been aging, up until this point, she had a realization: her child, the one she loved and cherished, was a failure.

an empty vessel sustained by cigarettes and sertraline. that's what her daughter had become.

where there was once her child, now stood a void, dark, empty and unforgiving.

she knew all of this, she was deeply conscious of it all, however, she still loved her daughter, no matter how unwell the thought of lilith made her feel.

not having talked to her daughter in two days made her feel uneasy in a way, however, she didn't want to call. the last time they talked, a fight errupted between them.

nobody would have answered anyway.

lilith was not the most agreeable person, especially to the ones close to her, and the only one left was her mom. all of her feelings were channeled towards her.

agatha was never the kind to understand. she could only see her daughter's issues through the information she had gained on the subject, but she couldn't empathize, as lilith was slowly being consumed by her disease.

she would have given anything to help her, really, but there was no way of solving what she couldn't understand, and miracles were off the table.

agatha took the last sip of her coffee and left the balcony, leaving the cup on the table. the uneasiness had gotten worse, so bad that she couldn't even think properly anymore: it clouded her judgement and blurred her vision.

she knew this moment would come. she had to tell her daughter everything she felt, she needed to confide in someone. all the helplessness, the sorrow, it had to leave her mind through her lips.

agatha picked up her phone and called her daughter's number.

no response.

again.

no response.

and again, with the same exact outcome - nobody answered on the other line.

worry started stirring up inside her. something was wrong, she could feel it.

she got dressed as quickly as she could, grabbed the other copy of keys from her daughter's apartment and walked steadily through the door.

for the first time in years, she ran. her breath was unsteady and sweat dripped down her forehead as she bolted through the door of the familiar block of flats.

1 floor, 2 floors, 3 floors and there she was, right in front of her daughter's apartment. her hands trembled as she pushed the keys in and opened the door, to reveal the pungent smell that the house had been immersed in for god knows how long.

she now knew. now she was all alone.

agatha walked slowly towards the living room, emerging from the hallway to bear witness to the most painful scene that a mother could see: the dearth of her child.

somehow unfazed, she walked towards lilith, allowing herself to fall on her knees, caressing her dead daughter's hair and lying her head down upon her shoulder.

now, she could see clearly the image of the small child that missed a tooth. she was laughing.

her helplessness was replaced by a feeling of hopelessness.

there was nothing in the world she could do now to change this. the pain was unbearable.

lilith's mother got up and walked towards the kitchen, picking up a knife, then returning to her daughters side and getting back into her initial position.

she cut as deep as she could, carving a red would upon her arm.

blood gushed as she lay her weak body next to her daughter's.

was this how she had been feeling, perhaps, this entire time?