Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
EMMA
I t felt like forever that I sat still and stared at them, dumbfounded, shocked, numb with fear and insurmountable grief until, one of them moved, rolling onto his back, groaning.
I held my breath as he ran his hands over his face and then he sat up. Tears streamed down my already damp cheeks when I saw the face of the man I loved.
That’s right, I loved him.
My Alex.
Not Arran’s, but mine.
I could see blood on his white shirt, and I gave a muffled cry, but he didn’t hear me. He was in a haunted daze, stunned and staring down at Arran, who lay there with crimson billowing from his chest where the gunshot had hit.
Alex reached forward and touched his brother’s cheek, a caress as if to say goodbye. Then he hung his head and brushed his hand over his brother’s face to force his eyelids closed.
He leaned down to whisper something to him, then sat back and throwing his head back he let out a scream, howling to the night sky in pain.
I knew what had happened tonight would haunt him forever. His brother was a tortured soul, but Alex still loved him. And after hearing their story, I knew his guilt would go with him to his grave. The battle might be over, but the war would never be won. It was a fight that was unconquerable. There were no winners here today.
Alex knelt beside his brother for a while, sitting in silent respect for the life that he’d lost, the childhood he’d been robbed of, and the future he’d destroyed.
Then, with a heavy sigh that I felt in my heart, he pushed himself to stand.
He walked over to me with hurt in his eyes and the weight of regret evident in the slump of his shoulders. When he reached me, he knelt down and pulled my head into his chest, kissing me as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He held me for a few seconds, rocking me in his arms. Then he took a deep breath and lifted his head. “Let me get this off you,” he said, pulling the tape off my ankles first.
Then he moved to my wrists, hissing when he saw the blood oozing over my hands from the deep cuts of the plastic. He didn’t have a knife, so he leaned down and bit through the tie, then kissed my bloody wrists, whispering more apologies.
Finally, he pulled the tape from around my head and mouth, moving slowly and with care, so as not to pull my hair or hurt me.
And when my mouth was free, I sucked in lungfuls of air, then gasped, “I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry.”
Alex hugged me, telling me, “You don’t need to say sorry.”
But I felt like I did, and I cried as I told him, “I love you. I’m so sorry and I love you.”
He started to cry too, as he buried his head in my neck and whispered, “I love you too.”
We clung to each other, and I wished the whole gruesome scene around us would fade away. That we could escape this life. Transport ourselves away from it all and just disappear.
But we couldn’t.
His brother’s body lay behind us, a horrific reminder of what we’d endured tonight, and I told him, “We need to call the police.”
But Alex shook his head.
“No. No police. I don’t want them involved. No police. No inquiry. No trial. No circus. No newspaper reports. Nothing.”
“But we can’t just leave him here and pretend this didn’t happen.”
Alex hung his head, and in a quiet voice he said, “He already dug a grave. I think I need to make use of it.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying or what you’re doing. You can’t bury him here. You can’t do that to yourself.”
I didn’t care about Arran. But I cared about Alex, so fucking much it hurt. I didn’t want him to have to go through anymore trauma tonight. He’d been through enough.
He peered up at me with haunted eyes and said, “I have to. I have to do this. And I need to do it alone. I need to put my brother to rest.”
What could I say to that?
I wanted to call the police, but I also understood where he was coming from. This was his twin brother. A brother he still felt responsible for, even in death. If he wanted to bury him this way, I wouldn’t stop him.
How could I?
So, I nodded and stayed on the floor as Alex stood up.
He walked over to his brother and knelt beside him.
“I can’t lift you like I want to,” he said, speaking to Arran. “But I know, if you were here, you’d tell me to just fucking drag you to where you needed to be, so...” Alex stood up, took hold of Arran’s ankles and started to drag his body across the forest towards the grave. I turned away. I didn’t want to watch this part.
Eventually, I heard the thud as Arran’s body hit the soil at the bottom of the grave. Then Alex went back to fetch both of the guns from tonight and threw them in, too, to be buried with Arran. Lastly, he walked over to the tree where Arran had hung his jacket. Slowly, he took it off and draped it over his arm, then when he got to the grave, he draped it carefully over his brother.
“Goodnight, Arran,” Alex said quietly. “I hope you find more peace in the next life than you did in this one.”
He stood up and walked over to where I sat. Then picked up a shovel I hadn’t noticed behind the tree. He walked back to the grave and began shovelling the soil back into it, stopping every now and then to wipe his brow and sigh.
I wasn’t sure how he’d get over the trauma of having to bury his own brother, but I watched as he kept going.
“Are you okay?” I called out with concern.
“I’ll be better once this is over,” he replied, sweat pouring as he worked hard at filling the grave.
Eventually it was done, and he stood for a moment, looking down at the unmarked grave where his brother was.
“It’s over,” I heard him gasp to himself. “This has to be over.”