fin

t/w: suicidal intentions

“I did think about it, in that moment, as I heard the approaching train,” she breathed, her eyes showing no tension, yet her lips unsmiling, “how easy it would be, that if I were to take that one step, everything would be good again.”

Dorothy lifted her head, with much difficulty, and laid her eyes on Phyllis who sat across her while she aimlessly tapped her finger on the glass of liquor in her hands. 

Phyllis retracted her unfocused gaze from the distance and turned to face Dorothy. Dorothy did not express her astonishment, but Phyllis had noticed how she was startled to hear such words; or was it just her imagination because she had expected that? 

Phyllis laughed. She had always wanted to say these words out, words that had been only in her head, thoughts and emotions she could never show. She had always imagined, the kind of shock the listener would experience when she finally revealed them. 

Phyllis thought she also saw some remorse, an apologetic look in Dorothy’s eyes when she threw her head back in a soft, almost pathetic chuckle. But likewise, she told herself that it might partly be her imagination.

“Why are you laughing?” Dorothy’s voice was sharp and stern, as her attitude with Phyllis always was. Dorothy was never able to like Phyllis. Phyllis loved everyone, and she never did understand how, when Phyllis was always left alone. Maybe she hated the girl’s foolishness for loving without receiving anything in return. She had noticed, though, that Phyllis had never gone out of her way to love those around her, perhaps since she wasn’t going to receive anything in return, and still placed herself first. She had thought that it was wise of Phyllis, to guard herself, but the selfishness was another flaw Dorothy could point out (and assessing others’ flaws was what Dorothy always did. She didn’t love to do it, didn’t particularly hate it; she had used to find it disturbing that this was an inevitable custom for her with everyone around her, but had eventually come to terms with it. With that, she always kept herself at a distance from Phyllis; Dorothy could not and would not love like Phyllis, and neither did she want to receive love from Phyllis).

Phyllis’s lips remained in a smile. “Because those days are over? Because I’ve always wanted to say this. And I’ve always wanted to see, the reaction of people when I finally say this out, as much as I’ve always imagined how it’d be like.”

Taking a deep breath, Phyllis proceeded to continue on her ‘cathartic self-expression’, as she would pathetically name it, “I tried to throw the thought away. I didn’t want to enter another low again, a low where I wanted my life to end. Perhaps I don’t remember clearly anymore how I felt at that instance, but I’ll always remember, so vividly, that night I stood in the kitchen when the whole house was asleep before the open cupboard where the knives were. I wasn’t crying, but I don’t think I was in a completely sound mind either. Well, for those few years in my life, it boiled down to that very dark month, and when I slowly recovered from that and found myself happy again— it took almost two years, but— I told myself I would never ever think of ending my life again.”

Dorothy could not find the words to answer Phyllis. Before the silence engulfed them, she takes a loud, deep, breath. “I… Would never have known that.” She sounded sorry, did she? Dorothy found herself in disbelief for the apologetic tone she had used. But for Phyllis who loved everyone, and Dorothy had thought loved herself more than everyone, she would never expect that she would ever have to feel that need to end that life of hers. Though Dorothy now learnt, it was just the life she thought Phyllis was living.

Phyllis shook her head. “Sometimes, when you’re alone at midnight and the silence sends a deafening ringing in your ear, you go mad and your thoughts show.”

“It’s strange thinking about those times, when now I’m really on the verge of death,” she partly laughed when the statement left her lips, plainly, in no telling tone. The weak laughter was starting to irk Dorothy’s ears; she wished Phyllis would stop laughing at her own words, undermining their weight, as if they were not at all consequential.

“How is one supposed to feel like when you know your life is about to end?” Phyllis started again. Dorothy wondered if it were the effect of the alcohol for Phyllis to bluntly throw out these repeated confessions.

“Magic and fairytales, they really don’t exist. Even those stories we liked in our youth, about finding a handsome man with a face so warm yet strikingly attractive and more than that a fun and compassionate heart. The idea of finding a special someone we love and want to be together with for the rest of our lives, creating beautiful memories like watching a pink sunset or a sky full of stars. In reality, all we want is to find an eligible bachelor to get married to, settle down, have kids, and raise those kids. Either that, or we want to land in a paying job, enough to sustain a roof over our heads, to keep our stomachs full. This world is boring not because it’s boring, it’s because we’re fascinated too much by the things we make up,” Phyllis raised her head, the initial airy look in her eyes replaced with a much sharper one.

“Come home someday. Mother wants to see you. Father asks about you because Hedda is gone and when I go, you will be the only daughter left in this family,” there is a drastic change in Phyllis’s tone.

Dorothy released her breath, partly as a scoff, partly as a sigh. “I’m not even his daughter,” she replied, initially intending for it to be lighthearted, but tonight, everything between the girls was laid out as candidly as never before.

“Mother had wished we would be close, as sisters, she wished she could see that at least once.” 

“And we’re running out of time, is that what you’re trying to say?”

Phyllis winced, her eyes glaring at Dorothy before she had realised. She took in a deep breath as she turned away.

Dorothy cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, plainly.

Phyllis could tell that she had meant that. “Don’t be,” her response was equally curt.

“Mother wants to see you,” Phyllis repeated.

Dorothy breathed in deeply, and released a hard sigh through her nostrils. She took her last sip of whiskey, allowing the bitter taste to linger in her mouth before feeling her throat burn as she swallowed it. 

“How is Cousin Griselda?” Dorothy asked, the air a little lighter now.

Phyllis’s lips curved at their ends into a small smile. “She’s doing good. There might be a wedding soon, perhaps in late summer.”

“That’s good to hear. And Tom?”

There was a pause.

“Still the same,” Phyllis dipped her head.

“And Mother as well, I suppose,” Dorothy breathed.

Phyllis gave a few slow nods with her head.

“Are you going back to Todefright now?”

“I go back every Saturday night.”

There was a wry expression on Dorothy’s face. I know that, she was going to say but stopped herself. “I’ll go with you tonight.”