Poisoned Threads of Solace by Jolie Cleoce (with thanks to a colleague)

Sadie Lester drove like a maniac whenever it was nighttime– but somehow was always cautious of her surroundings and never got in trouble. Some rumours say her maniacal driving caused her death. Some rumours say it was drinking. 

The Market knew it was murder. It was botulinum neurotoxin– the most toxic and poisonous biological substance found on Earth. 

I couldn’t help but always wonder who wanted to kill her. I always wondered if she had been killed by accident. Was there a mix-up? I couldn’t help but have nightmares about how numb her body was until she couldn’t move… until she couldn’t breathe. 

Two months ago:

I heard a ring from my cell. I had nothing better to do, so I picked up the phone.

‘Hello? The Solace Son,’ I said, the shadow of a smile still on my face.

‘Mark Solace?’ A stern voice asked.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘This is Sadie Lester’s father,’ Sadie’s father continued, ‘I’m sorry. I know that you and my daughter were close friends.’

‘What?’ I felt a chill trickle down my spine, vertigo in my bloodstream. My head spun, and I felt weak in the knees. I gripped the phone furiously, knuckles turning white. I was struggling to hold the phone up to my ear. I laughed nervously, ‘Sorry, what?’

I heard a sigh and a sniffle from the other side of the phone.

‘Mark… I’m sorry. My daughter– your best friend–... she’s in a better place now,’ Sadie’s father whispered. 

           An incessant noise of panic and fear pierced through the air, snapping me out of my trance, and it brought me back to a grey reality. Mr. Lester’s pointless words of consolation were drowned out. The loud and annoying buzzing of the refrigerator was drowned out. I pressed the phone further into my head, the cool glass digging into my skin. My knees buckled, crashing into the wooden floor. A hot sword shoved down my spine– pain– unlike anything I had felt before. The noise continued and my cheeks were wet. That was when I realised I was crying.

The good thing about Sadie’s father was that he didn’t hover. Even hours later, I sat crisscrossed on my tear-stained bedsheets, watching the clock’s perpetual ticking. An hour went by– agonisingly. Then another– torturously. It took me a while to understand what it meant. It took me a while to face the fact that Sadie was never coming back… but I didn’t want to believe that reality. 

I had screamed and hurled a cheap cup at the wall. It shattered, like my heart when I realised my best friend was gone. 

Alone. I cried and sobbed till I could cry no more. I screamed and shouted until my voice became hoarse and would allow me to yell no more. I punched and thrashed until I could move no more. 

Tears streamed down my face and I was suffocating. I wrapped my arms around my knees– a mourning, trembling, little ball. Sadie was gone. Sadie was gone. Sadie was gone and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Two weeks ago:

I was invited to her funeral. I put on a crisp suit that collected more dust than the useless figurines I got for my twelfth birthday. My face was pale, my eyes were dry. I had cried all the tears I owned. I had nothing to give but my smile. And that was fading… slowly. 

It was a closed coffin. I was grateful for that. I needed to be a strong person. I needed to be strong for Sadie. But I didn’t know how to.

Few words were shared, but words meant nothing– they were often empty. No words could describe her vibrant personality, her vivid imagination or her bright smile that could make anyone happy.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to hear the voice of the man on the phone. 

‘I’m sorry, son. She’s precious to us both,’ her father smiled sadly. I couldn’t do anything but nod. If I said anything, it wouldn’t mean anything. Words were useless. Actions carried meaning.

I wished this was all a dream and that Sadie wasn’t gone– that Sadie would call me when I woke up and tell me it was nothing but a dream. But I know that she is gone. A light in my soul is gone. My torch through my life's demanding, and tricky caves and forests slipped through my fingers and left me. I wanted Sadie with me. I wanted to talk to Sadie. I knew that Sadie could make everything better for me. She was kind, considerate, and thoughtful. ‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ the people at the funeral said, bowing their heads in my direction. But apologies and ‘sorry’s wouldn’t change the fact that Sadie was dead. Saying ‘sorry’ wasn’t going to bring Sadie back from the grave. Saying ‘sorry’ wouldn’t bring the person closest to my sister back from the embrace of death.

I needed my best friend back. I needed Sadie to come back from the dead.

Present: 

I wandered through the busy streets, my eyes staring at the floor. I tried to push away the loud cries of my inner child– telling me that Sadie wouldn’t want this; telling me that this wasn’t going to help me; telling me that this would only harm her; telling me that this would only harm me. 

The deathly glares of the vendors pierced my body like hot iron daggers. I took a deep breath, feeling that unfamiliar pang of nervousness bloom in my chest. This was the most dangerous place on Earth. And I was here. Here, they sold guns. Here, they sold science. Here, they sold secrets. Here, there weren’t laws or rules. Here I was, the most dangerous market on Earth. For Sadie, I remembered. My breath was shaky, and so were my hands, though the trembling wasn’t visible.

165, 168, 173… 182. The nervousness spread to my brain. I wasn’t sure if I could form even one coherent sentence. 

I looked at my quivering hand. Stand 182, Mr. Sebastian Roth. I had imagined a man with wild hair and a lab coat, but instead, I was greeted by a polite man with a fresh suit and perfectly styled hair. My fear still hadn’t faded. For Sadie, I reminded myself. Be brave. 

‘Mr. Roth?’ I started, ‘I want to know how Sadie Lester died.’ I sucked in a sharp breath. I heard a laugh. 

‘Botulinum toxin,’ he answered swiftly, hastily, ‘Ten dollars for that.’

‘Can I raise her from the dead?’ I asked eagerly, adrenaline rushed through my blood and I knew I bargaining for a life– a dangerous market.