The Styles Mansion [h.s]

thirty-one

NOVA COMMITTED suicide.

And nobody knows why she has done that or what made her do such a thing which took her life in that inexorable way. Like a fearless human I stared at the scene not seeming to diverge from Nova's lifeless hung up body.

She was wearing a night gown which stopped at the upper place of her ankles. Her skin was pale as blood was gathered in her sclera making her look like some cursed ghost from a movie. The lips that used to smile at me as if it was the first bloomed cherry blossom of spring now they seem like some dried rind of a tree in a desert. The golden blonde hairs of her was in a neat braid which I have always seen her in since I became Mrs Styles.

The transversal of tears was impendencing through my eyes. My chest tightens by scrolling a knot in my stomach. My hands were shaking as I could feel the wafer thin lines of cold sweat accumulating over my skin.

Suffocating torrid air filled in the room covering my skin with glaireous sweat but at the same time I was freezing.

I retracted the antecedent event of this morning and previous days that I have attested.

First I saw her crying while running away somewhere at night that dramatic mysterious encounter with Patrick near the stud and the other time I hearken unto she pleading for clemency to Henson.

Those time I haven't gave away a fucking fly about what happened with her or what she have done but now it seems like something cubic was related with her dead. A woman won't take her life while hanging her body with a ceiling fan just for fun. It was an incontrovertible matter to let things slide.

"Neona!" A worried and scared voice echoed in the room attaining my attention.

Neona has fallen on the ground and I assumed she had lost her sentient. Beside me my husband was staring at Nova without any fear or emotions in his eyes. Henson took Neona's body in bridal style in his naked arm while walking out from the room not even making a comment about one of his employees being committing suicide.

The Styles Mansion has fallen into an atrabilious romanticization.What else anyone could expect when a person died under this roof. That night I didn't sleep,  stared at the ceiling thinking I wish I could ask her for once what happened to her.

I spent my night pondering,wondering and watching my husband sleeping circling his arms around me while hiding his face at the crook of my neck.

How strange is that right? I couldn't sleep because someone died in this house but my husband was sleeping peacefully as if nothing happened. Harry hasn't blazoned an ouch of emotions when he saw Nova's dead body the way he stared at her. For a moment I thought he was looking at one of his toys.

Then again, who I am complaining to.

Henson called the police to investigate the case though it was a pure self-annihilation because in Nova's room a letter was found where she wrote nothing specific just a few lines and those lines were an egregious reason because of why I haven't slept the whole night.

It was saying two futile lines

"I am sorry, I can't do this anymore."

These two lines were pestering me to my death.

What did she mean by those lines? what  was that she couldn't do anymore?

In the morning two police officers put in an appearance and took their seats in the living room with Henson.

A thin shade of brown shade was occupied under the green-blue eyes of Henson's when I saw him earlier this morning.he was looking chivied as if he hadn't slept the whole night.