Page 32 of Only You

London

Sarah focused on breathing in and out. Despite the smoke in their air that made it feel like someone was trying to choke her, she breathed.

She filled her lungs and relaxed, thankful there was another breath to take.

She did so until another wave of pain shot through her side, knocking the air out of her.

Gritting her teeth, she curled into herself.

Nineteen and her life was already over.

‘Keep pressing,’ the man, David Wright, barked.

Sarah huffed and pressed harder against her side. She gasped, shuddering as the pain radiated through her chest, but kept the wound covered half-heartedly. Slowly, she blinked as she watched him board up the window.

As if there weren’t Zeppelins outside and people panicking every which way. As if they weren’t in the middle of a war.

‘A pointless one at that,’ she mumbled. She felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness, David’s thundering footsteps bringing her back.

‘I keep telling you to press on your wound,’ he barked, putting his hand over hers and pressing roughly. She cried out. ‘Get over it,’ he said, looking around the room. ‘I’ll see if I can find a cloth.’

‘It won’t help,’ she mumbled.

Ignoring her, he looked and continued his search.

The previous residents had been away from home, long gone by the time she and David had scrambled inside after the raids.

The cupboards and closet doors were open with suitcases nowhere in sight.

She could even make out spots on the wall where pictures were missing. She rolled her eyes.

Who was taking pictures at the end of the world?

‘You know, I always wanted to go to Paris, but I must say it’s probably just like here. Half destroyed with smoke everywhere. If I close my eyes, I could be on a holiday,’ she mused.

‘Not funny.’

‘I’m not even sure it still exists. Maybe all of Europe has finally burned down. Perhaps, all this will finally end…’ She trailed off shivering, but it was difficult to tell if it was the cool, night air or the blood leaking through her fingers.

They had never stood a chance.

It had been the end of a typical day for her, heading home with a large bag of laundry.

The sky was already dark, and she was readying herself for a full night of washing.

She was walking as quickly as she could, arms crossed, shoulders stiff and eyes on the cobblestones so as to not attract any attention from any men leering nearby.

She heard some murmuring but ignored it; some people still treated Black people like a carnival attraction.

It was only when everyone stopped, the crowd’s mumbling growing louder as they pointed towards the sky, that she realised something was out of the ordinary.

She looked up and froze as she spotted the cause for all the commotion.

High above, lit up by a searchlight, was a German Zeppelin.

It reminded her of a whale, massive, grey and silent as it slipped in and out of the clouds.

She had heard of them from the papers but seeing one so close made her dumbstruck.

At least, until the bombs dropped.

The crowd erupted into chaos. People scattered every which way as the ground shook.

The screams made her move, dropping the laundry bag as she tried to duck into an alleyway, when another load of bombs dropped.

The blast sent her to her knees as the ground rumbled below her.

Rocks and glass rained down and she cried out as a shard cut into her, burying itself into her side.

She tried to stand but the pain was overwhelming.

People started to step on her as they scrambled to get away.

She was certain she was going to die in the middle of the street.

Then, a stranger pulled her up.

‘Are you okay?’ the man asked, propping her against the wall. She started to slide down, her knees weak. ‘Hey! Talk to me! What’s your name?’

‘S–Sarah,’ she answered, her throat dry.

‘I’m David,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to help get you out.’

And she, who was usually wary of new people, took his hand.

‘Focus on me,’ David yelled, and Sarah’s eyes shot open and she returned to the present as he roughly wrapped her abdomen. Under the grime and dirt, his expression was grim, maybe even concerned. That wasn’t a good sign. ‘Keep looking at me.’

‘To think the English conquered the world just for this…’ she said, futilely trying to push his hands away. He brushed them off as he tied a knot tight enough for her to wonder if that was how corsets felt.

‘Just hang on,’ David said. ‘It’ll be over soon.’

‘We don’t know that.’

‘We’ll figure it out.’

‘No, we won’t,’ she argued tiredly.

‘Shut up. We are not dying. I won’t let us.’

That Sarah could believe.

David’s determination was something she had never seen before.

Between sewing her up across from a burning church and dragging her through the city for shelter, leading her out when the shelter started to flood, he had shown her a level of survival she could barely understand.

The grit baffled her. Even as the bombs continued to shake the walls around them, he just kept moving on.

At first, she respected it, trudging alongside him.

Now, hours later with her hastily sewn wound reopening from the constant moving, her head was pounding, the pain growing and she was tired of pretending to act hopeful. She’d had enough.

‘You should stop helping me,’ she said. ‘Get to a real shelter.’

‘We will. I just need to fix you first,’ David insisted.

‘Is that what you are? A fixer?’ she asked, groaning as she shifted, agitating her wound. ‘Why did you even help me?’

He looked at her incredulously, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You need it. Why not?’

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘So, you’re a hero.’

His eyes widened before he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with her description.

She wondered if he did that a lot. He was comfortable showing his frustration in front of her, but from what she could see, every other emotion was off-limits.

Meanwhile, she had only grown bolder as her despair did too.

She turned her gaze to the ceiling. ‘It won’t matter.’

‘We’ll find another shelter. We just need—’

‘No,’ Sarah cut off. ‘It won’t matter if you save me. Eventually, this horrible night will be forgotten, and everyone will move on like it never happened, as humans always do.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he commanded, his voice dipping to a dangerous timbre.

She looked at him curiously. Was he patriotic? He didn’t seem like the type, but she doubted she would have enough time to find out. ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘Nothing is going to change.’

‘After all of this ,’ he waved towards the window, ‘it has to. Humans survive and adapt.’

She sighed, her lids feeling heavy as she continued to half-heartedly press her hand to her wound. ‘Well, I don’t want to anymore.’

‘Fucking ungrateful,’ he murmured. ‘There are thousands of people out on the battlefields, trying to protect you! And—’

‘And what?’ she snapped, the anger she had suppressed all her life roaring up like a raging fire.

‘They go back home with chests puffed out, “saving the world” like they always have. Then they go back to hating the same people they hated before while we scrape by, hoping that our children’s children’s children will finally be treated with decency.

Finally, not a lamb for the slaughter? Well, you know what?

It’s tiring. It’s exhausting existing just to prove a point or change something that doesn’t want to be changed.

Dying here, dying there – what does it matter?

I’m sick of surviving a never-ending battle with the whole world hating me . ’

David’s face fell and a part of her felt a sick vindication that he knew she was right.

After all, wasn’t the world falling apart for that very reason?

Yet, as quickly as the satisfaction came, it swiftly left.

A looming dread replaced it as she watched David search for the right words.

She frowned, wondering if she hit too much of a nerve.

She may not have any hope of surviving, but she didn’t want him to give up with her.

‘Can’t think of anything to say?’ she asked, sarcasm laced in her tone but not in her eyes. Fight with me , she asked silently. Keep going.

David stared at her before taking a deep breath through his nose.

Before he could open his mouth to argue, the familiar sound of explosions filled the air.

He jumped, covering her body with his own as the ground shook again.

Sarah looked at him, could tell from his wide eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

The bombs were getting closer.

David put a finger to his lips before creeping towards the back of the house.

He looked out the window, trying to spot something moving in the night sky.

It was hard since there was no moon to provide light.

Still, he strained his eyes until he saw something slowly traveling across the sky, too small to be a cloud.

He heard shouting down the street and ducked away from the window.

He shuffled back to the dining room where he left Sarah.

He wondered if he would come back to a corpse or not.

Logically, this would be the best time to die.

All she had to do was loosen the knot and drift off.

He felt a moment of panic, slowing his steps, hoping that she wouldn’t leave him alone in this.

War was hard enough already. He didn’t want to think about having to hide in a house with the body of a girl he had tried to save.

He peered at her, her back facing him. Luckily, he saw her body move with each pained breath she took.

David hurried, crouching by her side. ‘It looks like the Zeppelin is a few streets over,’ he said, nervousness slipping into his tone. ‘The best we can do is try to shield ourselves—’

Another explosion shook the house and they both recoiled. Sarah wrapped her arms tightly around herself as David moved the wooden kitchen table, so it covered them. He heard her laugh weakly, when a shiver ran through her.

‘I’m cold,’ she said, surprised.

His eyes widened and he looked down at the bandage he had rewrapped around her abdomen earlier that night.

It was soaked through with blood, meaning that the crude stitches he had sewn hadn’t lasted.

He pressed his hand to her wound and she didn’t flinch.

His breathing started to quicken as he looked around the bare kitchen.

He couldn’t see anything that would stop the bleeding.

So, it is the end .

‘… You need to go.’

‘What?’ he asked. His eyes met hers, the electricity of all the things never said burning between them.

‘If you’re going to leave, then you need to go now.’

He knew she was right and that the window was only getting smaller. But leaving her alone, on the floor of a stranger’s house… he couldn’t make himself move to the door.

‘I told you, we’re in this together. I’m not leaving you by yourself,’ he said, his determination winning out against his instinct to survive. Still, her eyes dimmed, glazing over as he made his choice. ‘Then, lay next to me,’ she said softly.

‘Hold my hand until I go,’ she pleaded, her voice quivering with all the tears it was too late to shed.

He shook his head, tearing his gaze from her, but she gripped the arm of his shirt. ‘Stop—’

‘David,’ she cut off. ‘I–I can’t. I’m too tired.’

The silence after the explosion filled the space between them and he gritted his teeth before slipping from beneath the table and her grasp.

He frantically opened the cabinets, looking for a sewing kit or cloth – anything that would help.

When the kitchen came up empty, he ransacked the bedroom and bathroom but those were also bare.

He covered his mouth, holding back a scream.

The shouting outside continued, the words ‘take cover’ echoing as they travelled down the street.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. Time had run out. There was nothing left to do other than wait and pray. And he already knew where that would lead.

Heart heavy and tired, he went back to the table.

He had only been gone a few minutes, but Sarah already looked smaller, curled up with tears falling out of her eyes.

He took a shuddering breath, joining her on the ground, laying on his side.

With his size, it was a bit awkward, but he managed and she shuffled closer until her knees touched his.

He looked at her then and he could see the fear he felt in her eyes.

She held out her hand. He took it, eyes lingering on their interlocked fingers.

‘My little brother volunteered for the navy,’ he confessed suddenly.

‘He wanted to make me proud, get out and save the world. Every day, I prayed for hours that he would survive, that he would come back. He died in the first battle he went into. I know it’s part of war but…

part of me couldn’t help but feel like this is God’s answer. The reaper coming to harvest.’

He could still remember the way the wood dug into his knees every morning he prayed and when he’d collapsed from the news.

One of his favourite people in the world, the person with a smile that he swore lit up the world, was gone and no war victory would bring him back.

It had been his biggest heartache until that moment.

Now, it took a back seat to lying next to a girl with a wounded heart like his that he wanted more than anything to save, knowing he failed her.

‘I lost my brother, too,’ she told him. ‘Years ago. He moved to America, promised to pay for a ticket for me as soon as he could. One day, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time… I loved him more than anyone in this world. Even war was easier to swallow than losing him.’

‘And now…’ The last part of David’s sentence was drowned out by the sound of another bomb exploding, practically on top of the house. His grip tightened around her hand, and Sarah nodded in understanding, another tear falling.

Now , he thought, this would be the only legacy we have.

Words left unsaid. Arguments never to be had. A connection forged in the darkest of days. The rare chance to not be alone in the end.

She pressed her forehead against his. ‘Close your eyes,’ she whispered. He did, holding on tight as a loud whistle pierced the air.

The light that followed was blinding until the building crumbled around them.