Page 62

Rafferty

I saw him flee. Saw her race after him.

And I tried to follow, I did. But my mother was there, blocking the way. Somehow she’d gotten Alexander’s gun and she was pointing it right at me, spouting obscenities, screaming about how it would have been better if I’d died in her womb. If I’d never been born at all.

For so many years I’d repeated those very same words, but now, now I don’t believe it. I was meant to live, meant to exist, if only to stop her, to stop them.

She pulls the trigger but either her aim is poor or she’s not as determined as she’s pretending to be.

The bullet goes wide, skittling past my ear, through the air before embedding itself in the skull of one of Alexander’s men.

I don’t give myself a second to contemplate his death, the fucker deserved it considering he was working for my brother.

I launch myself at her, and we roll on the floor, both of us now grappling for the revolver. She’s still screaming, still bellowing insults. Her spit flies through the air, landing on my face. I knock my elbow into her nose, beating her back until I can get the gun free.

I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for any of this.

Scarlett is out there; Alexander is out there. She’s not strong enough to fight him on her own.

I wedge the thing under her chin, pulling the trigger with far more confidence than she ever had. Her eyes widen. There’s a millisecond, a moment where it feels like time freezes, where she seems to register it, the bullet, the action, me, her son, doing what should have been done a long time ago.

The back of her head explodes. Blood, brains, all of it splatters and her body slumps. As soon as it does I’m racing for the door, racing out into the darkness and to where I know my brother and Scarlett are.

I stare down, stare at the water. At the darkness, and the stark contrasting mass floating in it.

No. No. NO.

Something grips hold of me. For the first time in my life, I feel totally helpless.

The waves lap around the two bodies as I scramble over the razor-sharp rocks.

Scarlett.

SCARLETT.

I throw myself into the freezing depths. The shock of it almost makes my heart stop. But I keep my eyes on her, on her body, on how she isn’t moving, how she isn’t swimming, how she’s just lying there, face down, immobile.

“Scarlett,”

I scream her name, shout it so many times my voice goes hoarse and I’m swallowing water, gulping it down as I swim like a mad man.

She’s so far away.

I think the ocean is taking her out. That it’s dragging her out, dragging her far from me.

Scarlett, darling, wake up. Wake up.

Her body bobs with the waves and I want to convince myself that she’s moving but I know she’s too still. I can see it.

“Scarlett.”

My hands reach out, I grab her arm, and I pull her towards me, pull her safely into my arms.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur, rolling her over, lifting her head, seeing how pale she looks, how blue her lips are, “I’ve got you, just hang on.”

I swim back, pulling her with me. Alexander is still floating in the water and I leave him there, half hoping the sharks might just start ripping him in two.

When we get to the rocks, I drag her up, hauling her out. I’m too frantic now to be gentle.

“Scarlett,” I whisper, brushing the strands of hair from her face, “Scarlett, wake up, wake up,”

She doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, doesn’t show any signs of life.

I lay her down, pinching her nose, opening up her airways and trying to breathe some oxygen into her. There’s still time. She’s not gone yet.

She’ll come back; she just needs a moment.

I push into her chest, pushing out the water that’s filled her lungs.

And I breathe another long deep breath. “Come on, Little Bird, come back to me, come back…”

My voice turns to a wail as the minutes pass.

She’s going to wake up. I know it. She’s going to sit up, and cough and then those beautiful blue eyes will meet mine and it’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.

“Scarlett…”

Why isn’t she waking up?

Why isn’t she coming back?

“Don’t leave me. Please…” I don’t care how pathetic I sound; I don’t care how weak I sound. I just need her to hear. I need her to listen. To wake up. To make this all alright.

“Scarlett, please…” I bury my face in her neck. Even though she’s soaking wet, I can still smell her, I can still smell that sweet, intoxicating smell.

But she feels so cold. Too cold.

“Come on, baby, come on…”

I stroke her hair, stroke her cheek.

“Wake up, baby, please just wake up.”

But she doesn’t wake up. She doesn’t move.

She’s gone. I know it, I can feel it. She’s gone. My Scarlett is gone.

No.

I can’t lose her. I can’t. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve survived.

It’s not meant to end like this. Not meant to end with us separated, with her going somewhere I can’t follow.

“Scarlett,” I pull her right into my chest half-snarling, half-sobbing as it hits me that I’ve lost her. That she’s really gone. That I’ll never see her smile now, never hear her laugh, never be able to make up for all the awful things my family did to her.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

I shut my eyes, my hands grasping at her hair like it’s my last connection to her.

“Come back, baby, please, just come back.”

Why won’t she just wake? Why won’t she just take a breath?

My eyes dart about, trying to find something, anything that might fix it.

As they land on the discarded gun, a realisation hits me.

She might be gone, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay here. That doesn’t mean I can’t follow her.

I pull her body with me, haul us further up the rocks, and I reach for the revolver.

Death was never really something I’d thought about. Not something I’d considered. I’d never been one of those people concerned about my own mortality, but as I hold her to me, I know that this is the only way, that this is the logical thing to do.

I can’t live without her. I can’t go on without her. Can’t pretend that my life has any meaning or purpose when Scarlett was my purpose. Was my reason for existing.

Even if there is nothing after life. Even if I pull the trigger and the only thing that meets me is nothing, then it would still be worth it, still be the right call.

Because I can’t exist in a world where Scarlett doesn’t.

And I refuse to even try.

I take a deep breath, a calm resolute feeling replacing barely a fragment of my grief.

My finger finds the trigger, I place the barrel against my temple, holding Scarlett against my chest and as close to my heart as I physically can.

I promised Scarlett I would never leave her. I promised her that it was me and her, together.

And if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“I’m coming,” I murmur. “Hold on, Scarlett, I’m coming.”

The End