Page 44

44

Ronan

M y body trembles violently as shock sets in. The pain is gone now, and I’m grateful for that.

The scents of fire and gasoline filter into my nose, but it’s not strong enough to suffocate me—not that my lungs are functioning properly anyway. I have no doubt I’ll bleed out before the fire reaches me, but I wish it would hurry up.

Something taps against the floor, and suddenly, feet come into my line of sight. Red heels cover pale skin. It isn’t Calista—she’d never be caught dead wearing those out here. Not just because she’d break an ankle, but she’d never be able to run fast enough in them.

I wish I could have had more time with you, baby girl…

“Such a waste.” I’d never mistake that voice.

Now that I think about it, I remember her in the courtroom. How when they passed judgement and sentenced me to fifteen years, she screamed out how unfair it was. That I should die like her brother did.

Samantha kneels down beside me, but I close my eyes. The last face I want to see is Calista’s, even though she’s the one who put me in this situation.

I suppose that’s wrong. Technically, I killed this crazy bitch’s brother, but still. All my baby girl had to do was just tell me what was going on.

“Tell my brother I got his revenge for me if you see him in Hell.” At least she isn’t stupid to think he’d be anywhere but burning there.

Heat builds in my throat, and I let out a cough, thick liquid spilling from my mouth as I do. Breathing is getting far too difficult.

I can’t feel anything except the pressure building in my ears. Death is not peaceful, even after you’re numb. It’s loud and obnoxious.

Samantha suddenly stands, but I’ve lost my hearing. The weight in them has overpowered the ability to perceive even the smallest of sounds.

I blink and try so hard to open them again but the abyss of the dark swallows me whole and reminds me that it’s my time to go.

I do love you, Cal. Even if it wasn’t for as long as I wanted. At least it gave me a taste of what happiness was, and what it would’ve been like for someone to hold my weight up as their own.

For the first time since I was ten, I don’t feel the burden of my trauma.

I don’t miss the child I wasn’t allowed to be.

I don’t feel anything but peace.

And I don’t feel heavy.