Chapter 32 - Charlie
The Death of Peace of Mind - Bad Omens ?
I t's been a whole 24 hours since Porter woke me up in a shitty mood, one I'm still not entirely convinced I understand. He stormed up to the roof in such a huff I didn't want to check on him. He was still so obviously grumpy when he came back down a couple of hours later that I high tailed it out of there.
I headed straight to Beans to catch up with Nova and her conjoined twin Ace, before popping in to see how Mila was doing. It was almost dinner time when Dante received a phone call, quickly passing it to me where the conversation was limited to Porter saying every night and me reluctantly agreeing.
When I returned to the bar I let him know I was back and went to take a long shower. I didn't hear the bathroom door open nor did he make a sound until his hands wrapped around me pulling me into him. After my initial scream and a swift elbow to his ribs, he took his time washing my body before he led me to bed and I fell asleep with his body wrapped around mine.
Which leads me to this moment now, where I'm standing in the freezing cold, staring at my boyfriend sitting by himself on the roof.
“Hey. What are you doing out here?” I ask, wrapping the blanket from the couch around me tightly.
Walking across the rooftop deck, Porter sits on an old sofa beneath an awning. The snow falls all around him in a soft lazy flutter and I'm not sure he realised he left the roof access door open. The cold breeze crept through the apartment waking me from sleep.
He looks a little vacant when I approach him and I’m sure he’s thinking about us. About what happened and everything in between. His walls have been up since the other night and for the hundredth time I repeat the words I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want to myself.
“Come sit with me, moye spaseniye [12] , ” he says, holding out a hand and pulling me onto his lap.
Moving the blanket so I'm snuggled into his chest, he is surprisingly warm considering he has been sitting outside in the dark. The early morning sky threatens to change as we sit in silence. Taking his hand in mine I can't help but run my fingers over the name he has tattooed on them. I've managed to piece together all of the little hints and clues I've found out over the past few months and I know who Lila is. I want him to want to tell me about her though, so I sit here in the grey of dawn and wait, hoping this is that moment.
“I'm not a good man, Charlie. I've done things. Horrible things. Some of them deserved it and some of them didn’t, but it didn't matter. I was obsessed with my revenge and needed to be sure they could never do anything like that again. The pain I felt ...”
His breathing is slightly faster and if I wasn't resting against his chest I don't know if anyone could tell. He’s always so under control of himself that in the moments he breaks his facade for me and lets me see all of him, it reinforces every feeling and want I have about us.
“The pain I felt was all consuming, I thrived in it. Basked in the glory of feeding soul after soul into the unknown abyss. Into the darkness that awaits us.”
Squeezing his hand, I can't help but whisper, “Is this her?” As I tenderly rub my fingers across his knuckles.
“Lila,” he breathes her name as if saying it aloud will conjure her spirit. “She was so innocent to my world that in the end, everything I was trying to protect her from was why she was killed. It was why it was my fault ... I couldn't give her up.”
He practically whispers the last few words.
“What do you mean it was your fault?” I say trying to prompt him further. I'm not sure he has ever spoken about this to anyone and I can feel how his body tenses with each word he says. Trying to calm him I pull his arm around me further so I have his forearm and hand pressed tightly against my chest, gently rubbing my hand across it.
“My father had arranged a marriage to another family, one that I didn't want. I was young and already in love. The best enforcer for generations.
If something needed to be done, I did it, the messier the better. I was invincible and nothing could touch me.
So they found the one thing that would be my undoing and killed me that way. I offended that family when I rejected their offer of marriage. My father called me to his office the night I was going to ask Lila to marry me.
You can't turn the Pakhan down when he calls you, so I met with him and completed the ridiculous errand he wanted me to do. One that any number of the working street runners could have done. I remember thinking it was unusual at the time but my father was always a little odd.
He believed in superstition and it was not unheard of for him to make a strange request. I just brushed it off as being one of those times. It took a little longer than I expected and I arrived home far later than I had planned.
She wasn't watching TV in the lounge or the kitchen when I entered our apartment. The lights were off and I thought she had gone to bed so I took the ring from my pocket, ready to crawl in with her and apologise.
I was going to distract her and slide it on her finger, let her figure out what I was doing.
I was so excited to see her reaction, see how long it would take her to discover my plan before I asked her for her hand.”
Looking up at him I can see a small grin appear as he thinks of her, his love still strong even after all this time. For a moment he is lost in a memory but almost as soon as I spot it, it disappears.
A coldness I've not seen before makes his eyes dull and lifeless as if he's no longer with me. Reaching up, I try to ease the hard crease on his brow before gently bringing my hand down to hold his cheek. A small sigh escapes him as he closes his eyes and leans into my hand, his shoulders relaxing with my touch.
Keeping his eyes closed he takes my hand and brings it across his face, as if he's trying to draw strength from it, making sure we are connected.
Kissing my palm, he lowers his hand to my neck. The stark realisation that all of the times he's held his hand like this as he collects himself, is not an act to control or to dominate me.
I'm only now registering that his fingers press in ever so slightly, searching for my pulse, the steady rhythm of my heartbeat seeming to centre him, confirming there's life flowing beneath his touch.
“I didn't turn on any lights. I didn't want to wake her so I crept over to the couch and took my shoes off. I thought she must have spilt something because the rug was wet but when I turned on the side lamp to get a better look I saw the blood pooling on the floor. My world stopped at that moment.
The life I had planned for us dying along with her. They had hung her from the ceiling, ready for me to see her when I turned the lights on.
They raped her, then hung her from the ceiling to bleed out. Her wrists were cut but they tied the rope under her arms and around her shoulders so her death was slow. Her life slowly faded as each drop of blood left her body.
By the time I found her and cut her down she was a ghost of herself, so pale she was iridescent in the darkness.
I held her until the morning, just me and her while I told her everything I had planned for us. The life we were going to share together. How I had arranged to get the tiny fluffy dog she wanted as a wedding gift. That we could buy whatever house she wanted anywhere in the world.
She knew I didn't want my own kids but I was softening to the idea of fostering. I begged her to come back to me and I'd give her however many children she wanted. Begged her to stay with me just a little longer. Begged her to take me with her, because if she wasn't here with me then I didn't want to be here either.
Dimitriy found me in the morning still holding her cold body. He knew I had planned to propose and had come to celebrate. When he eventually convinced me to let her go it was with the promise of revenge, so I started to plan their demise. Taking the lives of the men who did this was not enough. They had to be destroyed, quashed, eradicated from this world. Their family was not allowed to exist any longer than I would permit them to.
She faded away from this world while my father summoned me. Stopping my ability to protect her and making his act of betrayal the ultimate sin against our family. His would be the last name on my list. He would know the meaning of punishment by the time I was done with him.”
The way he grits out the word father makes me reel, gasping at the realisation of what he just said, the rapid-fire way my brain puts all of the information together. “Your father, he—”
“He had arranged for me to be busy so they would not be interrupted. He was angry that I rejected the offer as well, that I defied him. So this was his retribution,” he grits out.
“I'm so sorry, Porter. I'm so sorry this happened to you … to her.” I whisper into his chest, trying to get closer to him and comfort him however I can.
For a long moment we just sit here. The sky changes with soft pinks and dark purples as the sun threatens to breach the mountain range in the distance. I continue to run my hand across his chest and down his arm, anywhere I can touch him to let him know he's not alone, that I'm with him.
“She was religious, Lila was, I mean. That jar of blank coins on the mantel, the one you moved. They were a little joke for her, an homage for if she was watching down on me from heaven. She believed you needed to pay for your passage into the afterlife. A lot of different religions have used versions of this for centuries and I wanted to ensure the souls I took in her honour never got close to her again.”
“Your pendant,” I gasp, reaching under his collar to pull out the gold medallion he has hanging from the chain he never takes off, remembering the few times I've wondered about it and the patterns stamped within the centre. I always thought it looked like a coin but never had the courage to ask him.
I respected him as a man who kept everything close to his chest. The type that if he wanted to tell you he would, so I just waited for it to make sense, waited for him to let me in a little deeper. Placing his hand over mine, he squeezes it gently, keeping it pressed over his heart.
“I had three made. Two were placed on her eyes at her funeral. I needed to make sure she had all the currency she would need to make it to heaven. And one I had made into this necklace. I used the gold from the ring I picked out so we would always be together.”
I'm so overwhelmed with sadness for him. The pain he must have gone through and the weight of everything he's said is utterly heartbreaking. How he could have survived is a strength I will never understand.
“There were six men who were in the room with her that night. That was where I started my revenge. I took my time with each and every one of them, making sure they had slow and painful endings. One, I tied to a chair and left in a room full of hungry rats. I listened to his screams as they slowly ate their way into his flesh. Another, I forced into a steel barrel and lit a fire underneath it. Taking peace in his pain until he stopped screaming for someone to save him. One by one I found them and stomped out their existence. It didn't matter what I did to them, they all begged for forgiveness at the end. I carved out the eyes of each and every one of them, putting those blank copper coins inside the empty socket. They would be blind in the afterlife with no currency to pay anyone if they needed to. Kept in eternal darkness, their eyes constantly searching for a light they will never find. I was baptised by the dawn while adding another layer of confusion for them to overcome in their pursuit of redemption.”
Breathing heavily, I can't help but wonder if the man Dimi was talking about down in the bar is somehow tied up in all of this. He had said you missed one. At the time I was confused but more focused on the fact that I had found out Porter and Dimi were brothers. But now another puzzle piece clicks into place and I'm worried for all of us that history will repeat itself.
“How many did you … How many people did you kill, Porter?”
“There were eighty seven people in their immediate family. Brothers, sisters, aunts, children. After I had finished with them, those who were still loyal were also removed. I lost count in the end but after the final soul was cast into purgatory I returned to my father and took my pound of flesh. I left him alive in the end but damaged his body beyond repair. Broke every bone from the neck down so he was left in a constant state of pain. I didn't touch his head though, I wanted his brain intact so every day he would suffer. After that, I disappeared and ended up as Porter Anderson, small town bar owner and overall grumpy guy,” he scoffs.
“I kept to myself where needed and I didn't let anyone else get close to me. That is until you, Charlie.
You seemed to have unlocked something in me I thought was long dead. And every moment we have together terrifies me because I want you so bad, but I'm so scared of losing her all over again if I choose you. I will not survive if something happens to you because of me and I will not survive if you ask me to give her up. Every morning I wait to see the dawn come in. It was her favourite time of day and the weight of what I did to her lightens, like she is granting me a new day of punishment and forgiveness. It's a small moment I take each day to grieve and reflect on everything and nothing all at the same time.”
Taking a deep breath, he brings his hand to my chin and tilts my head to look at him.
“I'm sorry I got angry when I overslept yesterday. It wasn't fair of me to put that on you. You didn't know how important each morning is to me.”
A single tear rolls down his cheek, a small sign his body is losing out on all of the emotions he is suddenly feeling.
Reaching up, I bring my hand to his face and brush it away, snuggling into him a little further, trying to find the right words to say. He was angry because he missed seeing the sunrise, missed his chance to connect with her in the dawn light. He thinks I would want him to give up her memory and it's the furthest thing from the truth.
“My mum died giving birth to me. I know it's not the same, but sometimes I feel like I killed her. That it should have been me who died so my dad and brothers could continue to have her. I feel all of these things for a woman I never met and when my dad tells us stories of what she was like, the guilt I feel can overwhelm me. When I was twelve I ran away from home. Left a note saying I was sorry I took her from them, stole all the money from the swear jar and disappeared. I made it as far as the bus station before my dad found me. He was so mad, but once I was home and everything calmed down, he explained that my mum wouldn't want me to be sad over her death. That she had died so I could live. That I needed to live for her.”
The tears silently roll down my face as I think of that day.
“I've never seen my dad so upset but it was the turning point our relationship needed. He never knew how I felt when he told stories of her and so a part of his frustration was for himself and not seeing how it was affecting me. I took everything my dad said that day and I started to live. I lived fiercely and still try to. I want to love you so badly Porter, but you have to want that too. I don't want to convince you to love me back, so for right now if this is all you can give me, then I'll take it willingly. But I also think that she would want you to live as well. If you want it, there is a world where you can love us both. I will never ask you to stop loving her but I need you to live with me as well.”
Getting up from his lap, the cold wind blows against me and I can't stop the shiver from rolling through my body. Letting go of the blanket I place it over him and quickly walk through the falling snow to the rooftop door.
“I think I'm going to go back to my apartment. Give you some time to think things over. Let me know what you decide,” I call out.
Wiping the tears from my face, I hurry down and collect my things. I've basically moved in since that first night, everything now spread out in all corners of his apartment. Taking a final look around I take a deep breath and leave. Continuing to keep the promise I made to my dad all those years ago, that I will choose to live, I just hope Porter wants to do it with me.
The cold wind smashes into me as I open the door to the alleyway behind the bar. Bringing my scarf up a little higher so it covers my nose, my warm breath making my skin tingle from the heat. The last snow for winter is predicted to fall over the next few days and I can't seem to shake this cold feeling from when I left Porter on the roof.
Is this one of those moments in life where that saying is relevant, if you love something set it free, if it returns to you then it was always meant to be. I want him to chase after me and tell me I'm the one, that I'm everything he's ever wanted. I want him to pick me as well as her, to have enough faith in me that I would never ask him to stop loving her. I can share him with her, love him alongside her but I just need him to want it too, and right now I'm not absolutely sure he does.
Taking a final look at the rooftop, I see him rise from the sofa, practically vibrating with anger. The first rays of sunlight hit him, catching the silent rows of tears that have fallen down his face, ones that I've not been there to wipe away. Abruptly he turns, taking a few steps to the rooftop door and punches the glass, the panel shattering under his fist. The soft tinkle of glass shards clinking together sound like a windchime for the few seconds it takes for them to hit the soft snow below.
Porter turns toward the sun and lets out a heart wrenching wail, the sound of his overwhelming grief as he drops to his knees and brings his bloodied hands to his face. I feel like I'm watching him fall apart as the echo of his gentle sobs travel across the wind to reach me.
What am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?
I've left him in the one moment he needs me. He needs to know that he doesn't have to be alone anymore, that I'm strong enough for this. Pulling the strap to my duffel bag a little tighter, I quickly head back to see if I can hold all of the broken pieces of the man I love together.