Sabie Cottonball

“A new day brings forth fresh beginnings,” or so they say. For some, it brings fresh sorrows.

– Reverend Casey Horseshoe

***

I exhaled a hopeless sigh, awaking from my slumber. I grimaced upon noticing patches of tear-stains and wrinkled spots on the blue bed.

Had I really wept that much?

The memory came back. I shut my eyes, begging for it to stop. I heard the thunderstorm. The haunting phone call at midnight. The crackling voice at the other end. The thunder that clapped as I collapsed onto the floor, screaming. I couldn’t even remember how I got into the bed. I must’ve been in tatters when I fell asleep.

Gasping a fragile breath, I tore open my eyes, vision blurred with tears. Anxious, I gazed around the bedroom, trying to connect back to reality. Like a rude call, the clock on the nightstand jingled merrily, reading 06:45. Oh, yes, I’d set that as my alarm. Well, time to get up.

Like a sloth, I alighted from the bed and made my way towards the bathroom sink, briefly wondering why I even bothered to continue the routine. Splashing water would wake me up, but it would never wash away the wreck that disgraced the mirror’s reflection – swollen cheeks, tightened eyes, frazzled verdant mane.

But never mind about that. I didn’t want to go out today.

The apartment was silent. The gloomy skies outside illuminated my surroundings in tones of gray and white. I stepped into the kitchen with a pang of… hopelessness. It was dark. Icy. Devoid of the warmth that Hank always radiated. He was gone. And gone for good.

I stumbled, fighting back tears. The scene from last night replayed without mercy.

“Is this, uh… *crack* Sabie? Mrs. Sabie?”

“Y-yes, who’s speaking?”

“I’m from the *crack* police department. It’s about your husban–”

“Hank? Why, what’s wrong, o-officer?”

“We, uh… *sigh* *crack* We’ve found his body…”

It finished as quickly as it came. I collapsed onto the hard floor and curled into a ball, bawling like a foal.

“Damn you, Hank…” I choked. “Why… why?!”

Of course, there would be no answer. That stallion was gone. I was now left to survive this wretched world by myself. Alone.

Alone. How I hated that.

I don’t know how long I laid on the cold, marble floor. I only remembered that I rose up, rubbed my eyes, and went to the house phone. I imputed a familiar number, and waited.

“Hello?” asked the other end.

“M-Mina? I-it’s me, S-Sabie,” I answered.

“Ah, Sabie! Sorry, I couldn’t recognize the number,” she offered.

“O-oh…”

“Um… you ok? You don’t sound so good there,” she inquired.

I paused, swallowing a lump. “Hank… h-he’s…”

“Why, what’s wrong? Is he alright?”

I choked, heart sinking. “He… d-died.”

The gasp was immediate. “D-Died?! But… but how?”

The lump expanded. “T-they found his body… in a drain.”

Mina was silent for a long while. Perhaps she, too, was trying to process the accursed news freshly delivered to her.

“I’m sorry… Sabie,” she offered, after a long silence.

“T-thanks. You… don’t know how much it m-means to me,” I mumbled.

“Take all the time you need. Are you… gonna see the body?”

She asked that question with a blatant pause and restraint. I understood why, of course. It was sensitive, and I really wasn’t the best at emotional control.

“I-I have to,” I answered shakily. “B-but first, I’ll be going down to the police dep to receive the report.”

“What time?”

“About 10-ish.”

“Alright, I’ll… I’ll take you for lunch. Meet me at Cafe Nervosa. Eleven sounds good?”

Despite my grief, I managed to crack a shadow of a smile at her kindness. No wonder she was Hank’s and my friend for so many years.

“S-sure. Thanks… Mina,” I offered.

“Anything for a friend,” she responded softly. I could hear the smile cracking on her own face at the other end. She was truly a friend.

I ended the call with a trembling nod. There was plenty of time till 10:00, but my appetite had gone somewhere else, so I opted to skip breakfast. With nothing else to do, I nestled into a soft couch and sucked in a deep, deep breath.

It would take a long time to overcome this sorrow.

***

I’d always wondered what police stations looked like inside. It turned out that I hadn’t missed much. Harsh whites, bland grays, and a garish assortment of potted plants offered themselves as I trotted to meet a Mr. Simony in Room 4.

With a depressed gait, I entered. Greeting me was a rather lean stallion, with sunken cheeks and a long snout. He resembled a chemistry professor more than a police officer, but I was not in the mood to further such musings.

“Good day… Mrs. Sabie Cottonball?” Mr. Simony addressed.

I nodded slowly. “Good day. And please, Sabie is fine, I’m not a grandmare,” I dumped dejectedly as I took my seat. The officer, however, took no offense, and he offered me a polite, if not sad smile.

“I understand. First of all, please accept my condolences,” he offered with a bow.

“T-thanks,” I stuttered.

“Now, about your husband,” he began. A familiar lump formed in my throat, and I braced myself for what I was to receive. With a nod, he continued.

“Some sewage workers found his body in a drain, behind Gin and Rum’s Mill – I’m sure you know the place.”

Hank’s workplace. I nodded. “Y-yes.”

“We determined that he had fallen in and drowned, and–”

“It was an a-accident, wasn’t it?” I cut in. He was a good stallion; nothing foul should’ve occurred to him, right?

Ominously, his countenance blackened. “No, Sabie. It wasn’t.”

I squinted, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen carefully, Mrs– sorry, Sabie.” He breathed. “The autopsy report states that there was poison in his bloodstre–”

“Poison?!” I shot, slamming my hoofs onto the desk.

“Digitalis, forcefully injected by two assailants,” finished Simony. He shook his head as I stared into his iron face. “Hank was murdered, Sabie. The poison triggered a heart attack, causing him to fall into the drain and…”

My throat jerked shut. Breathing became difficult. I lost focus. My sight dimmed. Simony’s voice diminished into distant echoes. My legs crumbled. The last thing I remembered before darkness invaded my vision was screaming.

***

The darkness gave way to light. Silence crescendoed into noise. I slowly returned to the conscious world as my feeble brain registered murmuring, beeping, and a rumbling drone.

How long was I out for..?

A sharp tinge of disinfectant assaulted my nose. With a jerk, I opened my eyes. White colors of all shades presented themselves neatly before my vision – a little too neatly.

“Mrs. Sabie?” softly called a voice.

“Y-yes..?” I drawled. The voice loudly exhaled with a relieved glissando: Mr. Simony.

“Thank heavens, you’re ok,” he exclaimed.

“W-what happened?” I inquired hazily.

“You broke down, quite literally. After a minute of screaming, you… passed out.” He paused for a little while, then added, almost reverently, “I understand.”

Did he really?

“Hank’s been… murdered,” I recounted softly. Tears escaped as I shut my eyes. My love, a good stallion, murdered?

I never knew how much it stung. A broken heart was a real thing. And heartbreak gives way to anger sometimes.

“And you think you really understand, huh?” I raised, shaking with sobs.

A long, rigid silence played, interrupted only by the beeps of the heart monitor.

“Yes,” answered Simony, frank and direct.

I attempted to sit up, but was too feeble to accomplish it alone. Despite my foul mood, Simony graciously assisted me, and ensured my back was comfortably cushioned with pillows. He exhaled an elderly sigh, and grimaced.

“I lost my wife two years ago.”

I did not turn to look at him. But I would lie if I said that, at that moment, a small spark of sympathy did not ignite within.

“She was caught in a crossfire.”

This time, I turned to look at him. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a figment of my imagination. But I saw, lodged within that chemistry prof’s sullen face, two burning, young, and passionate eyes – a reflection, perhaps, of his younger self.

“In the force, we’re always surrounded by death,” he quipped wistfully. “So yes, I do understand.” He offered me a sad smile.

“Why?” I questioned. “Why him?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t give a proper answer yet. My team is still investigating the motives.”

A small fire kindled within my young heart. “Then… then do everything in your power to catch the scum who k-killed Hank, ok?”

He frowned, gaze hardening with determination. “On my word, Sabie. You can count on the Force. However” – his gaze literally petrified here – “there are a few things you need to know. It concerns life and death.”

I gulped. “What?”

He breathed. “Hank’s murderers aren’t just some filthy crooks. They’re the Failed Company gang, and they effectively control his workplace area.”

“Then all the more reason to shank them up,” I pressed.

“Sabie, these aren’t normal criminals,” he emphasized. “I’m talking about five murderers, two rapists, and a bomb-maker chumming like one family – and they killed your husband.”

“So? They’ve already done him good, what could they want from me?” I grumbled, irritated.

“You’re not safe,” he augured intensely, but then calmed down and sighed. “Your life is in danger, Sabie. And I won’t risk leaving you by yourself – not while the Company is still around.”

I brayed, throaty and frustrated. Even then, Simony was right, dammit. Hank was gone; who would protect me?

“What is your suggestion, then?” I cranked, giving up my own way.

“Consider this an order,” he started. “Move to Oort Apartments, in the East District, as soon as possible – the P.D will cover rent. Sort out Hank’s funeral, attend it, and after that… ‘disappear’, so to speak.”

“Till?”

After a short meditation, he spoke, “Till we’ve got them.”

“Fine…” I huffed. All these complications…

“Officer Marble Domes will be patrolling your area, effective by the time you move there.” He finished, stood up, and bowed. “Take care, Sabie. We will solve this case, and Hank can rest in peace, alright?”

I nodded, silent and resigned, as the officer left the hospital room.