Tower and Town, August 2016

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What Tom Left Behind

Pounding. Elaine’s ears were pounding. An increasing noise was rattling around her head, choking her every thought. Ice churned in her veins; seizing her body in a cold, icy clasp. Curled up, Elaine whimpered as the sound increased. Her whole body shook, fighting against the pain. Surrounding her was the thick stench of smoke, but there was no fire to warm the ice. Darkness taunted Elaine from every direction, mocking her and her ever present agony. Slowly, tendrils of the darkness began to sweep over her, started pulling at her throat, choking her until she felt numb. Elaine felt herself start to slip as she took her last stand against the invading darkness. With a last, rattling breath, Elaine let go and allowed herself to fall freely.

Screaming, surrounded in a pool of sweat and terror, Elaine sat up. She could still feel where the darkness had clutched at her throat. Her ears still stinging from the receding beating that had pounded against her and the inside of her skull.

Light flickered on from outside her door and before she knew it, Elaine’s parents had made their way to her side. Silently, they brushed her hair back in a repetitive, soothing motion, as if it could somehow lessen the pain. Finally, Elaine’s voice died down to a choked whisper, the shrill of her scream fading. Dragging a hand across her eyes, Elaine realised her face was wet, yet she didn’t feel like she had been crying. The taste of salt stung against her cracked lips.

Her parents started talking to her, calling for her attention but Elaine was trapped far away in a deep crevice of her mind. Subconsciously, she was aware of her mum and dad whispering in hushed voices beside her. But a crushing weight of guilt and sorrow was descending upon Elaine, dragging her back down into the ever present darkness.

It pulled at her throat…

“Tom.” She whispered. It was all Elaine could do to prevent herself crying out, though she wanted to kick, scream, punch; fight her way to Tom. Where he had lain, fallen on the mud caked ground. His body twisted and broken. His eyes glassy and far away as he had called out for her.

“Elaine.”

Shivering at the memory, Elaine pulled herself back to where she now sat in the darkness on her own. Her only solace, the ticking of the small clock beside her bed and the small blue teddy, tatty and torn, which she clutched in her hand.

“Elaine.”

Now that the pounding had receded, Elaine could hear a voice behind it. Faint, but there.

Elaine stood up and walked to the window. Pushing the curtains aside, she looked out to see the stars shining down; casting light upon her and her grieving heart. The still night looked serene, filled with a quiet beauty. Although the noise was louder here, Elaine still couldn’t locate the source. Besides, she didn’t want to see beauty. Not when the world was so ugly. Not when she carried a heart full of cracks.

Instead, Elaine turned to the mirror and gazed upon her reflection. The smooth pallor of her cheeks. The sharp, searching blue eyes. The hair cascading down her back. None of these features reflected how Elaine’s heart felt. Didn’t show the torment or the guilt that weighed upon her shoulders. Didn’t show… her.

It was almost a reflex. Like a snake striking its prey. But the glass that now littered the floor suggested otherwise. Either way, the broken fragments collected on the floor, now held a sort of symbolic beauty. Because now, they seemed to truly reflect Elaine.

Broken.

“Elaine.”

The voice called at her again. Soft and steady. This time when Elaine turned around, she saw the shadow of a boy in the doorway. Young and delicate. His features a resemblance of…

“Tom?” Elaine whimpered.

The boy stepped out of the dim hallway and into the light of Elaine’s room, so Elaine could see him properly. Collecting her tattered thoughts together, Elaine sobered herself up. Now she saw the broad shoulders, the added height and his face. His face which looked like…hers.

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise really. Of course, Tom’s brother would have felt the same but Elaine hoped that since Josh hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming guilt she did. Of course her hope was naïve.

“Josh.” Elaine’s voice cracked. Not Tom. Her mind echoed. Never Tom, not again.

“Hello Elaine.” Josh’s voice was soft. Delicate. Kind of musical against the silence. Elaine had the urge to laugh. Instead she looked down at her hands. One spider webbed with drying blood, the other still clutching the small teddy.

“Why are you here?” Her voice trembled slightly, but when Elaine turned she held her head high. Trying to shake off the vulnerability she had exposed.

Biting his lip, Josh presented Elaine with a book. A bulky, blue scrapbook.

Tom’s.

Stepping forward, Elaine caressed the blue, frayed cover.

“He wanted you to have it.” Josh turned to look down at Elaine. “Happy Birthday,” he whispered.

The thought was sickening. How could the worst day of Elaine’s life be filled with words as bittersweet as that? But Elaine ignored the comment and shakily took the familiar book into her hands. Heavy in weight and memories, the scrapbook was an anchor, pulling Elaine closer to the boy she lost.

Her eyes welled with tears, but her gaze held a sombre smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

After Josh left, Elaine sat on the floor in the darkness, flicking through the map of her and Tom’s lives. Listening to the memories of their laughter and watching scenes of past times play repeatedly inside her head. When Elaine finally crawled back into bed and closed her eyes, she slept soundly. Her heart, which had previously felt shredded and cracked, started to slowly sew itself back together.

In her hand was a letter, covered in spiky, boyish writing. The last words protruding from the page.

“Happy birthday, Elaine. Love Tom.”

Molly Hall (St John's)