30 Short Stories in 30 Days
an excerpt

Day 1: 1st Short Story Excerpt:

Preface

Many stories don’t actually begin until the end. Whatever came before the climax is simply a cacophony of meaningless events designed to create the result. The result is often what matters. And the end? The end always becomes a new beginning.

My story starts at the end, or the beginning, whichever you prefer. I don’t care.

One

On May 27th, I found her body. Her toes were still brushing the bathroom tile floor, her torso bent over the side of the clawed tub, head submerged. Even from the entrance to the bathroom, where I lingered for some indeterminate amount of time, I could see the blood swirling in the water. Although she was positioned palms down, I knew. I knew what she had done. If slitting her wrists didn't work, she was going to drown herself as well.

She always was an overachiever. She always took things on head-first. Ok, now I’m getting morbid. I don’t mean to be funny or give off the impression that I don’t care. I do care about this. I do care about her. After all, she was me. Well, sort of.

So, I’m standing there in the doorway, just looking at her as if the scene before me was a perfectly natural one to walk in on. Right away, I knew she was gone. Dead gone. I didn't even bother moving her head out of the water or turning off the faucet. I let it run, staring down at my sandals as the pink water gushed past me on the floor and soaked into the adjoining bedroom's carpet.

Detective Hawthorne asked me repeatedly why I didn't try to save her. Surely, I'd want to save my own sister. He looked like he was going to throw up right then and there.

She was already dead inside, I told him, my eyes averted from his. I knew he was feeling as sick inside as I was, but I couldn't let him know. This was no time to collect sympathy. Whatever bond we had before now was severed. I had to make that clear.

I could feel his brown eyes boring into mine. His hand tentatively reached out and touched my chin. I allowed him that seemingly insignificant gesture.

What happened here, he asked softly, in that voice I'd grown to trust.

I paused a long time before answering, letting the sound of the other policemen rushing in the house obliterate the silence.

She found peace, Detective. She finally found the inevitable.