A tough decision (standard:drama, 1996 words)
Author: Sakura	Added: Jun 14 2007	Views/Reads: 3085/2251	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
About a depressed girl thinking back to a memory of her sister.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

darling!? Please be ready to dine, soon!” Narissa's mother had spotted 
her under the willow, watching the family without much interest, from a 
distance. Narissa sighed and began swinging herself slowly, her hands 
loosely attached to the rough ropes of the swing, the rosebud still 
woven between her fingers. Her mother, along with Patrick, cook and a 
couple of servants, left her sister standing by the pool with the 
steaks, to go inside and bring out the cutlery and vegetables. 

The up and coming moment is the one Narissa remembered well. When she
thought back, she could remember every detail. Every smell sound and 
emotion came to mind at once. 

Narissa was beginning to feel cold in the long evening shadows. A chill
ran down her spine, and she thought that she should soon join the 
family, and find a warm coat to go over her silky dress. She saw Monica 
standing next to the pool in the distance, facing away from her. She 
looked as though she was in a world of her own, Narissa had thought. 
She could smell the fresh scents of evening. The smell of her mothers 
flowers was still lurking, like an imprint of daytime, was mixed with 
the cold, fresh scents of night. Narissa looked down at her bare toes 
half-hidden under the lace of her dress. She noticed she was breathing 
heavily, and was able to see the frost exiting her mouth in quick 
bursts. Then, as she was slipping her dainty shoes on, she heard a 
distant, but loud splash, as though someone had just dived into the 
pool. In an instant, all of her senses were alive. She sensed something 
was wrong before she knew. Her head rose in a moment, and her widened 
eyes locked on the pool. She felt sickened in her stomach when she saw 
part of Monica's pink evening gown vanish under the water. Panting and 
shivering,  Narissa sprung to her feet, and raced to the poolside, 
tripping over her high-heels and the tail of her dress. She could hear 
an ongoing piercing scream, and realised with shock as she ran that the 
scream cutting into the silence, was coming from her very own mouth. 

Her sister had slipped that evening, and was knocked unconscious on the
side of the pool. Her lungs quickly filled with water, and she had 
drowned. Narissa  had dived in the pool after her sister. She had 
dragged Monica onto the paving and screamed and cried by her drenched 
body, for what seemed like many hours into the night. And since then 
she had never stopped crying. Not really. Narissa had cried for her 
daily since a year and twenty-three days ago. And she was crying now. 
Another warm tear rolled down her cheek and plopped down onto her lap, 
creating a small dark dot on her new blue silk dress, next to the few 
other dark dots of tears wept this miserable night. 

I've had enough of this feeling Narissa thought. The sickened feeling
inside was imprinted inside her, still. But what could she do? She 
scanned her room, hoping desperately that the answer would be clear. It 
was, of course, not. Narissa wiped her eyes with a soft tissue, and 
weakly sniffed. She stood and made her way to the chest of draws. She 
carefully opened one and took out a small bottle of deadly acid. Since 
she had gotten hold of the substance, she had been tempted so many 
times... Everything could all be over. Fate tempted her a larger 

amount than usual tonight.  Was this her only option? It was a decision
she would make tonight, for good. A tough decision. 

Narissa breathed shakily and heavily as she opened the bottle, trembling
so much she struggled not to spill the acid. She raised the bottle to 
her lips. Her mind felt clear of thoughts and her heart of emotions. 

But for a second she hesitated, and that time was enough for her
conscience to react. She heard not her own voice, but Monica's voice in 
her head. No matter how bad you might feel. There is always hope. Hold 
onto it And remember, things can get better. Narissa frowned, thinking 
over words she had clung to for the last year. The words her sister had 
spoken the day of the accident. She slammed the acid down so hard she 
shocked herself. “But you can't just sit and wait for something to 
happen, you have to change your life yourself.” Narissa said aloud, 
with sudden realisation. 

And she made her decision. 

She swooped over deliberately and roughly opened her bedroom window, the
bottle of poison clutched in her hand very tightly. She held it, 
hovering, out the window, and when she let go, she both heard, and saw 
it crash in the garden far below her. 

She crouched on her hands and knees, and pulled out a suitcase from
under her bed. It was an old faded grey colour, frayed at the edges, 
and covered in layers of dust. Narissa had forgotten how long it was 
since she had been on a family holiday. Leaving the shriveled rose on 
the bed, she grabbed at her belongings. Clothes went in the suitcase 
mostly, but Narissa also packed a couple of books, a large sum of 
money, a writing kit, tissues, and she didn't forget to snatch up the 
framed photo of herself with Monica and her mother, which permanently 
sat alone on her bedside table. Narissa didn't know where she was going 
to go. But she knew one thing: She didn't intend on returning here. She 
hated the life she lived, so she was going to start new. Start again. 
She felt mixed emotions. Her heart was beating so fast it felt she 
would burst of excitement but also fear. She still had morbid feelings 
for Monica lurking threateningly in the back of her heart, but somehow 
they were less overpowering, now she had something to distract her.  
She had not had any distractions for the entire past year, Narissa 
thought to herself, with a mild shock. 

Narissa sucked in a big breath of oxygen, as though she would never
breathe again, and, with a reasonable effort, took hold of the battered 
suitcases handle with both hands and lifted it. She made for her door. 

But after a moment, she paused and turned, remembering, and 
deliberately walked to her bed, where the shriveled rose with the white 
ribbon sat. she tenderly picked it up, and took a moment to absorb it's 
appearance, yet again. The grey petals were still perfectly smooth on 
the inside, but on the edges they were rusted, and looked like fine, 
crumpled paper. The stem was flimsy and barely held the dead flower. It 
was only the bright white ribbon which remained the same. Narissa held 
the rose in one hand, and was weighed down by the suitcase in the 
other, as she left the comforts of her warm, well lit home, and 
journeyed alone into the night. 


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