Page 80 of Abundance of Obsession

My eyes sweep over every mole, every detail on her face. The green of her eyes, her long, black lashes, her small nose, and soft lips.

I’m at a loss for words. On the outside and on the inside.

“Eli, I’m—”

“Wait here a moment,” I interrupt her and go out to the bedroom.

When I come back, I don’t sit in the same spot. I stand next to Zoe and hold out my hand, on which rests a small notebook.

“I’m the one who found her,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes.

“What?” she mutters, confused.

“I’m the one who found my mother dead. Here.”

Zoe looks at the notebook but doesn’t take it right away. So I insist. “I want you to be aware of this. Talking about it’s too painful right now. I can’t do it, but I want you to know.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something like a diary. More of a collection of memories than a diary. I don’t have any idea. It’s the only place where I’m real.”

Zoe inhales sharply. Her eyes grow wide, yet they’re so damn gentle. I know she understands perfectly what I’m trying to tell her.

Finally, she takes the journal from my hands.

For an instant, I don’t know what I should do now. Leave her alone? Wait until she reads those few entries?

“Come to me,” she encourages.

Hesitation finds its way into my heart, but I shut out all doubts.

I sit down on the couch and then lie down so that my head rests on her lap. Her fingers weave through my hair, massaging my scalp. In her other hand, she holds the open notebook.

It’s such a good, pleasant feeling. The exhaustion caused by memories and an emotional outburst finally makes my eyelids droop. I don’t know when I fall asleep.

I only know that her hand never leaves me, not even for a tick of the clock.

Eli's journal

#4

Silence can be a blessing, sometimes a home…

Back then, it was a curse.

That day, silence woke me up.

The same as always, and yet different.

Heavy. Evil.

I got out of bed and walked barefoot out of the room. I don’t know why, but I moved as if I were afraid of waking the house. That damned silence…

I cracked open the door to my dad’s bedroom, which he hadn’t been in for a long time. It was empty, just as I’d expected. After all, he was sleeping in Mom’s room. For her own safety.

So I shuffled over there. I cracked the door open and poked my head inside. Dad was sleeping curled up in an armchair in the room's corner, covered with a blanket.

He looked uncomfortable. Old. Helpless.