Lacrimosa

~Alexie Ivanov~

Early morning drives are always a rejuvenating experience. I stole a glance at the car's monitor, observing that Nari was still lost in the embrace of sleep. A smile naturally bloomed on my lips, a surge of excitement fluttering in my heart at the prospect of finally meeting her. Despite my impressive driving skills shortening the journey, the anticipation had me feeling like a teenager about to encounter his crush.

In the passenger seat, my laptop displayed promising results from earlier investments, with auction bids climbing steadily and my bank account following suit. It appeared that the media frenzy surrounding certain individuals had stirred up a storm, and those involved, albeit with obscured faces, were facing increasing pressure to unveil the truth. Regardless of their denial, I could sense the tension, as they desperately bid away ill-gotten gains to salvage their tarnished reputations.

Within a week, I predicted many of them would retreat from the spotlight, only to resurface later, attempting to rebuild their lives as if the past could be erased. Yet, for some, the scars of their victims would endure, a perpetual reminder of the pain inflicted. I acknowledged I might not be a paragon of virtue, but I endeavored not to sink to the depths of villainy.

The journey from the airport to the house spanned miles, the two located in opposite corners, affording me plenty of time to orchestrate a surprise for Nari. The mere contemplation of her eyes lighting up in astonishment, transforming into a spring-like smile as she joyfully leaped into my arms, sent giggles bubbling up from within. My gaze drifted to the backseat, briefly wondering if I should have bought some flowers as an additional touch. However, it was still too early for any flower shop to be open, so I redirected my focus to the sincerity of my apology. I was well aware that showering someone with expensive gifts wasn't the pathway to their heart.

"Surprise, Nari, and sorry... No, that doesn't sound sincere enough. How about begging for forgiveness on my knees? No, that might scare her. Maybe just a simple sorry and offering the gifts? No, that makes me look arrogant." I sighed, shaking my head, grappling with the unfamiliar terrain of offering a genuine apology. Expressing remorse to others was a skill I had long neglected. It might sound foolish for an adult to struggle with such a basic gesture, but in my world, it was often others apologizing to me when I was at the top. Yet, as one ages, surrounded by an environment that fuels arrogance and ego, it becomes even harder to utter a simple "I'm sorry."

Glancing at the monitor, I observed that my angel had awakened, appearing somewhat weary and tired. "Did she not sleep properly?" I mused aloud, my concern deepening as the images from the previous night lingered in my mind. A frown of worry etched itself onto my brows. "What was in that paper that's got you so riled up, Nari?" I murmured, the question lingering in the air as I contemplated the mystery unfolding before me.

Having enjoyed her matcha and tended to Nyx, the girl's attention abruptly shifted, and my eyes widened in anticipation. She fixated on the stairs, and a silent prayer escaped my thoughts, hoping she wouldn't attempt to ascend them. To my relief, she swiftly dismissed the idea.

Her erratic behavior left me perplexed. Was it a simple yearning to see me, or had someone inadvertently revealed the wrong information? The uncertainty gripped me, and I clenched the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white under the pressure of my grasp. The unease settled in, intensifying as I grappled with the enigma of her unpredictable actions.

Observing Nari's movement toward the garden, I swiftly adjusted the camera to capture a different view. My breath hitched as she stood in front of the shed, attempting to force her way through. It dawned on her, as it had on me before, that physical force alone wouldn't grant access. The doors, appearing old and rusted from afar, concealed a mechanism that could only be activated by a command from my mobile device.

As the realization settled, she abandoned the futile endeavor and returned to the house. However, upon opening the glass panel door, Nyx slipped out, bounding playfully toward the garage. Their playful interaction alleviated my earlier tension, allowing me to focus on the road. I estimated I was roughly twenty minutes away at my current speed, so I accelerated along the empty road, eager to reach my destination.

Another glance revealed the girl silently trailing behind Nyx until they both disappeared into the wood workshop. My breath quickened momentarily, but a sense of relief washed over me as I observed how entranced Nari seemed by everything in the room. The thought crossed my mind: does this girl plan on giving me a heart attack?

Recollections flooded my mind as I remembered countless hours spent in that very room, meticulously crafting wood into perfect forms. A sigh escaped my lips. I couldn't pinpoint when this peculiar habit started, and revealing it to any psychiatrist was out of the question. Yet, whenever a sense of being trapped overwhelmed me, as if a part of me wanted to carve away flesh, the only safe outlet I found was with wood. My last visit to that room and my latest creation came after Nari and I were chased, and while it wasn't something I took pride in, seeing the girl regard me with such respect stirred a conflict within me.

"There's no way she will find the door," I muttered, my focus returning to the road. The house was now just fifteen minutes away, a mix of anticipation and trepidation building as I approached the inevitable confrontation.

As my gaze returned, my eyes widened, and a muttered curse escaped my lips. "That stupid feline..." I couldn't believe the cat I had randomly picked up turned out to be so clever. The tunnel door stood open, and Nari moved inside. "No, wait... don't..." I pleaded silently for her to change her mind, but she pressed forward, seemingly stepping on a switch on the floor that closed the opening behind her.

My breaths became jagged, each inhale a struggle, and there was no comforting lens within the desolate tunnel. Frantically, I toggled between the cameras stationed in the shed and the woodwork shop, desperate for a glimpse of her presence. The relentless march of minutes transformed into an agonizing stretch of hours, and still, she did not emerge.

The sense of helplessness and anxiety gripped me, a profound worry for the girl I had grown attached to in a way I hadn't expected. The tunnel, once a hidden passage I thought she would never discover, now became a potential danger, and my thoughts raced with a mixture of regret and apprehension for what might unfold in the desolate depths.

My heart clenched with a fervent hope that the girl, lost in the labyrinth of shadows, would instinctively turn towards the entrance she once traversed. Perhaps, I wished, she might attempt to reopen the door, navigating her way back through the same passage she had initially crossed. In my mind's eye, I envisioned a switch system akin to the ones she encountered earlier, guiding her back to safety.

Yet, the seconds ticked away like an eternity, and my anticipation waned as five interminable minutes dragged by. It was then that she finally materialized, stepping into the dimly lit shed. Relief flooded my senses, but an undeniable ache lingered—an emotional echo of the harrowing minutes spent in uncertainty and fear.

My eyes welled up, a haze descending as my breaths quickened, a frantic rhythm echoing in the caverns of my chest. "No... no... no..." I whispered into the abyss, the weight of despair pushing me further into the chasm of disbelief. Each inhale seared my lungs, a sharp pain mirroring the ache in my heart. Saliva clung to my constricted throat, an impediment to the precious air I sought.

Hyperventilation seized me, a desperate struggle for breath amidst the chaos within. Dark dots danced, an ominous ballet clouding my vision. "No... no... no..." I chanted, a desperate mantra echoing my internal turmoil. The world became a blur as I fought to maintain consciousness, a battle against the suffocating grip of panic.

A shrill honk pierced through the cacophony of my distress, a fleeting moment that jolted me into action. With a sharp turn of the wheel, I brought the car to an abrupt halt on the roadside. My knuckles, gripped tightly, betrayed the intensity of my struggle. I clung to them, a lifeline in the storm of overwhelming emotions, as if physical support could anchor me in the sea of uncertainty.

White-knuckled and on the verge of losing consciousness, I repeated my mantra, "No... no... no," a desperate plea to a universe that seemed indifferent. Bitter tears streamed down my face, leaving a trail of anguish as my blurry eyes struggled to make sense of the world around me. In that moment, I was drowning, not just in the shortage of breath but in the overwhelming tide of heartache and fear.

"No, please... please... don't look," I wailed into the stifling closeness of the space, my head slumping onto the steering wheel. A chilling wave of coldness swept through my body, and a queasy sensation crawled up my throat. In that moment, I battled not only the physical discomfort but also the intense surge of emotions threatening to engulf me.

Summoning the strength to confront the truth, I forced my eyes to open, only to be met with the sight of her holding my latest creation. A profound sense of self-disgust hammered at my consciousness, intensifying the throbbing ache in my head. "Don't... touch... it," I spasmed out, the words escaping my lips in a desperate plea. The tendrils of hatred for myself wound tighter with each passing moment, a relentless echo of the consequences borne from my frenzied addiction.

As the reality of the situation unfolded before me, I grappled with the devastating realization that my impulsive actions had led to this very moment. The weight of my mistakes hung heavily in the air, and the intimacy of the space around me only amplified the rawness of my emotions. In that fragile space between pleading and confronting, I found myself ensnared in the clutches of remorse, watching helplessly as my world crumbled under the weight of my own destructive choices.

For the longest time, I yearned to hide from her, to bask in the illusion that I was the good man she believed me to be. Deep down, I couldn't escape the cruel mockery I inflicted upon myself, fully aware that any closeness would shatter the image she held. I grappled with conflicting emotions, a silent battle between the facade I presented and the unsettling truth that lurked within.

Tears, like fleeting spasms, threatened to overwhelm me, constricting my windpipe as I tried to suppress these absurd emotions. In the hidden confines of that shed, surrounded by my trophy collection, I knew she couldn't fathom the darkness that resided within me. Today, it was this secret space that shielded my reality, but tomorrow, the truth would unfold.

The looming dread gripped my soul, knowing that the monster within would be laid bare. She would come to understand the depths of my depravity, and in that revelation, disgust and hatred would replace the warmth she once felt. The inevitability of her departure weighed heavily on my conscience, a haunting prophecy that foretold her running away from me in repulsion, leaving me to languish in solitude once more.

A numbness rang in my ears, the thought of hopelessness clouding my judgement. I no longer had the strength to face her, what was even the point anyways. Once she knows my reality she will be just like my mother and father. She will be just like Mr Patel.

Slowly, I moved, my actions almost zombie-like, as if entrapped in the clutches of a sinister force. I placed my head on the backrest, my eyes vacant, and a small, unsettling snicker escaped my lips. Inside my head, thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance. "Maybe I should cage her? No, she's too clever... perhaps I should resort to something more drastic, like cutting her limbs, and then," a twisted smile played on my lips, "we could have a lovely family together."

"Yeah, that'll be nice," I muttered to myself, the unsettling fantasies unfurling in the recesses of my mind. "I can take care of her. She doesn't need any-" I abruptly halted, my brain churning, my smile dissipating into the void. My gaze fixated on her innocence, a stark contrast to the macabre thoughts that had moments ago invaded my consciousness.

Suddenly, the weight of reality crashed down upon me, and my breathing, once frantic, slowly returned to normal. I recoiled at the horror of my own thoughts, aghast at the darkness that lurked within. I smacked my head hard against the unforgiving steering wheel, each impact a punishing attempt to purge the malevolence that had seized my mind.

Again and again, my head met the unyielding surface, until a dribble of hot liquid mingled with the dried, salty remnants on my visage. The physical pain became a visceral distraction, a feeble attempt to cleanse my soul of the twisted thoughts that had momentarily clouded my sanity.

Straightening up, I hastily plucked tissues from the dashboard, rubbing away the grim that clung to my face. As urgent as my own turmoil felt, there were more pressing matters at hand—the girl I had become obsessed with was now in peril. The shed's door, a barrier between her and potential harm, couldn't be opened without my intervention. However, any forceful attempt would trigger a mechanism releasing phosphorus, turning the entire structure into an inferno within minutes, consuming everything and everyone within.

My focus sharpened, the pounding in my chest calmed as I raced back to the house. The engine roared as I pushed my car to its limits. Bursting into the house, I sprinted towards the shed, pulling out my phone to unlock the door. With urgency, I shoved the wooden frame aside, my eyes scanning the scene within.

There she was, still captivated by my twisted creations, unaware of the impending danger that lurked within the very walls she explored. The abomination that had momentarily consumed my thoughts now paled in comparison to the urgent need to protect her from the imminent threat I had unwittingly placed upon her.

"Weren't you taught not to touch what doesn't belong to you?" Anger surged through my voice, a desperate attempt to create a barrier between us.

Anger, rejection, dejection—these were the emotions I needed to project. My obsession, like a poisonous vine, threatened to entwine her life, and I couldn't allow that. Happiness was a distant dream in the shadow of my dark fixation.

"Alexie," she whispered, her doe eyes reflecting fear, as if standing before a monster. 'Fear me, hate me, push me away. Be free, Nariya,' I thought, my heart aching with the realization that my only gift to her might be the liberty to escape the clutches of my own twisted reality.