The taxi driver and I are antsy. Occasionally, our eyes meet in the rear mirror, his to my bloodied shirt and mine to his phone. He's wise not to reach for it because my current state shouldn't mean anything to him. My bloody nose speaks volumes.
The taxi driver and I are antsy. Occasionally, our eyes meet in the rear mirror, his to my bloodied shirt and mine to his phone. He's wise not to reach for it because my current state shouldn't mean anything to him. My bloody nose speaks volumes.
The car comes to a stop. The driver waits for me to pay him. I don't bother searching my pockets for money.
"Wait here. I'll be right back."
I try to shake the visceral feeling away and focus on the task at hand. The house is empty but I make a cautious step not to make any sound. I haven't stayed here for long to know where they all are; my aunt and her husband but I know who's here. Alice. She must be sleeping, her rake-thin body must be clad in sheets on her new bed. The thought gives me comfort that I've ended it all. We are free.
It's cold outside when I step out and I dread seeing the look on the driver's face as I hand him my fare. He must think I'm a monster. I am. I don't spend much time outside because the walls are shorter than I'm used to and anyone can peek over them and see me.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection transfixed by the illusion I've created. I close my eyes still seeing the body in my mind's eye, buried under dirt and debris and no one will know I did it. They'll never know.
Tears prickle my eyes as I continue to stare at the blood and I don't know if it's real or not, whether this is all a nightmare and it never happened. I'm an echo of the girl I used to be. Pure and innocent isn't who I am anymore. The tap gives out a loud gurgling sound and washes away the blood from my shaking hands. I scrub at them furiously, willing every drop to leave its surface and I know these hands will never touch Alice again, not like the way they used to.
A sound behind me startles me. My breathing becomes shockingly rapid and I wipe at my brow thinking it must have been the wind. I was stupid enough not to have locked the bathroom door. My sister stands behind me, rubbing at the crust in her sleepy eyes. Her drowsy body relaxes on the door frame and I hold my breath, hoping she's sleepwalking.
She's a beauty, my Alice, so unlike me. I pray she never becomes me. She should never get the chance to do what I've done and I'll make sure of it.
"Eve?" she says and steps forward, reaching out for me.
Don't touch me. I want to scream, afraid that she too will be plagued by this curse of living a lie. I'm shaking vigorously when I feel the first touch of her warm hands against my icy skin. I pry her fingers off my waist and jerk away.
"Get out, Alice!" I yell at her. "Get the hell away from me."
She runs away.
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Traces of Eve Chapter 1
ALICE | Now There are always facts and there are lies. The fact is, It's the early part of March in the year 2019. The icy wind coming from the windows cuts through me as easily as a knife would. My teacher, Mrs. Andersen, has no clue she's my anchor back to this world. I'm slowly receding into a world of my own, one unlike this one where there are only illusions. A place I call lost at sea. There are always facts and there are lies. I should bear the brunt of it, after all the teacher is always right, and the student is definitely always in the wrong. But here's another fact, everything she says is three sentences condensed into one and I cannot decipher if she's speaking gibberish or plain out English. It's a miracle she isn't my English teacher but my Biology teacher. She talks with the speed of a ticker-tape accelerating along a page, and that's not the only thing hindering my
Traces of Eve Chapter 2
JEWELL | Then I don't think it was a coincidence—how I met the woman who's been declared dead for over a day now. It had to be fate because the timing was perfect. Exactly a week before she died. That morning it was the chilling cold bathwater that woke me up and the never-ending ringing of my phone. I wished it hadn't that I could've waited in there until my fingertips became raw and pruned, and my palms a mass of wrinkled skin. I loved it when that happens, and I was reluctant to give the solace up. My roommate's classes were earlier than mine so she'd rouse at the crack of dawn with such a douce mind I wondered how she even made it to the door without tripping. The ringing ceased for a bit, and I cuddled deeper into the water, not feeling the foam anymore. It was in those times I felt I could drown if I ever wanted to, but then the thought would go away as quickly as it came making me ques
Traces of Eve Chapter 3
EVE | Then Dear Alice, There's something you should know. Something they don't really teach you in school, that only life has the luxury of doing. Monsters come in different shapes and sizes. I remember when the real monster came into my life. It's not the kind of monster we think is under our beds or the ones we read about in fairy tale books—no, those are too pretty. A figment of our imagination. The actual thing was big, bad and ugly. And whether I liked it or not, he was my monster. He was tall, all six-foot-six of him mocking my and mama's short frames, with serious hawkish eyes that must've seen a lot in his days. They were hard and cold, almost frost-like, but then on some days, they'd be almost as warm as a hearth. He looked oddly out of place with his burgundy V neck T-shirt and blue faded jeans that hang low around his waist and dropped to his fe
Traces of Eve Chapter 4
ALICE | Now When you lose someone, there's a process you go through and it doesn't help that people keep staring at you. They wait and anticipate your breakdown—the crashing of a chair against the wall, the loud declarations of denial, and the tears that'll glide effortlessly. The tears never come for me, not when we lost contact with mama and surprisingly not when I hear Eve's dead. Dead as a doornail. Gone like the wide. As I walk in a daze, I take a stroll down memory lane and for some eerie reason, I can remember my childhood without the pain and the gory details. Eve wrote poems and hanged them on her bedroom walls. They were everywhere; plastered firmly near the windows, by her bedside lamp and even on her wooden wardrobe. I loved scrutinizing them because it was one of those rare occasions; I got to see something pretty other than the blank walls with flaking white paint in my room. I
Traces of Eve Chapter 5
JEWELL | Now Two weeks after Eve's death I pass by similar-looking houses while driving by in my Honda. They have the same paint colour, same roofing design, some even have the same hedges out in front but with different shades of evergreen. I drive slowly, cautiously, looking at my rear mirror. The police will be looking for me very soon. I don't know how soon. It can be minutes, hours, seconds, I have no clue. What I do know is that someone around the house would have called to report a disturbance and they'll enter the house and see what exactly I'm hiding from. With my right hand on the steering wheel, I use my left to pull the hem of my shirt above my head quickly so I won't lose sight of what's in front of me as I drive. Some of the blood on my shirt is smeared on my left cheek. My eyes blur from oncoming tears and my nostrils flare in disgust at the stench of it.
Traces of Eve Chapter 6
EVE | Then I'm not going to tell you everything, Alice. Just the things I think you should know. That night we hailed a taxi at the peak of the street- it wasn't really hard to find because there was a taxi rank just near the busy road. That side of the city had an intoxicating lifestyle I loved. There was a familiar tumultuous sound of horns blaring through the atmosphere. Out there, the pollution was a little less, don't get me wrong. There was smoke from the exhaust pipes of crowded cars but this way when you rolled up the windows and switched on the air condition unit, you wouldn't smell a thing. Then there was the sweet scent of sizzling food from the restaurants and food vendors that lined up near the road. It was quite something. Nothing like the silent solitude of Golden Gate estate. I watched as mama paid the driver before getting out of the yellow and
Traces of Eve Chapter 7
ALICE | Now The sound of the whistle shatters the silence, and the runners start their sprint rather sluggishly from where I'm perched. It's been an hour and forty-five minutes since I finished packing my stuff. An antagonizing hour with my thoughts filled by Eve, the cadence of her slightly deep voice and her obsession over colourful clothing. "Don't you miss it?" I yelp, frightened that I've been caught off guard. My stomach knots into coils, my head snaps sharply to my right and makes a pop sound that makes me cringe. My best friend, David flops on the space beside me and unfurls his fingers from a water bottle. I try not to look at him or listen to the sound of each sickening crack as his hand works its way over his knuckles. I even hold my breath so his scent doesn't waft through my nostrils. Most boys swim in their cologne but not him, it's faint and lingers only
Traces of Eve Chapter 8
JEWELL | Then The second time I see her, she is standing on the Boundary Road, near the N4 signboard, about to cross the road. I think she's about to because she's awfully near the asphalt, the tip of her flats peek over the sidewalk but she doesn't make a move. The red traffic light replaces the green hue in a heartbeat, halting the incoming vehicles. People brush past her to walk on the zebra crossing, but she stays rooted to her spot. The woman is dressed in a light faded blue jeans with splashes of what I assume to be a creamy white paint on the front. The jeans are ripped in a way that tells me it was a DIY project, that, and the frayed edges at the soles. It clings to her skin and makes the lines of her thighs more prominent and unfortunately, so does the V-shape of her pelvis. I wonder if she notices. I look around me, thinking that if someone near her takes notice, they should tell her. No one does because