Roman
Ipull up on the drive and turn the engine off.
My skin is crawling; I had to get out of there.
Seeing Fae’s face in the aftermath of me beating her brother is not something I want to remember.
I slam my hand against the steering wheel and scream until my voice goes hoarse, the sound clawing up my throat as it rips out of me again and again, louder each time like if I push it far enough it might actually take some of this pressure with it. It doesn’t. It just leaves me gasping.
“Fuck.”
Everything is too loud in my head, like no matter what I do, I can’t escape it. I’m too scared to sleep. Fuck, I’m too scared to even close my eyes. Every time I do, my mum’s dead body flashes in my mind as if the ghost of her is haunting me every second of the day and reminding me I failed her.
“FUCK!”
My hand slams against the wheel again and the car rocks with the force of it. I suck in another breath through my teeth, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t work. Nothing fucking works anymore.
My chest feels heavy as I drag my hand down my face, pressing my fingers hard into my eyes like I can physically force the memories from my brain. I drop my head against the headrest as I count to ten, repeating it over and over again to try and calm myself down.
“Fuck it,” I mumble as I shove the car door open, harder than I need to.
My foot hits the gravel as I step out and the slam of the door behind me cuts through the countryside air. The noise bounces around the open space before dying off too quickly, like even that doesn’t want to stay here.
Everything feels wrong.
The house stands in front of me exactly as it always has. It’s as if nothing inside has changed, and maybe it hasn’t. Maybe it’s just the outside that has been ripped apart.
A sense of bitterness rises in my chest.
It’s unfair.
How can the rest of the world keep turning?
Why does the sun mock me every time it wakes up?
How does the earth still spin when mine feels like it has exploded?
This house. This fucking house should have been blown up; it should be in rubble at my feet, but instead it stands exactly as it always has.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the roses my dad brought Mum for their twentieth anniversary and, without thought, I run up to them.
Bending down, I use my hands to rip them from the ground.
The thorns scratch and dig into my skin, but I barely feel it.
I go back in for more, pulling and digging and ripping to make them as dead as she is.
How dare they look healthy. How dare they exist. My hoarse voice lets out another scream as rage bubbles up in my stomach.
I stamp and crack every branch possible.
My chest heaves as I finally look at the destruction.
The leaves scatter on the floor under my feet in a sea of red.
The image of Mum and Dad’s bloody bodies on the church floor hits me so hard I stagger back.
Nausea hits me out of nowhere and I collapse to the floor, bending over on my hands and knees as I empty my stomach on top of the blood-red rose petals.
The vomit burns like fire as it crawls up my throat and tears spring into my eyes.
I count to ten again before trying to focus on good memories. Fae’s smile. Her bump. My weapons room.
When I finally feel settled, I get off my hands and knees and go to stand, turning quickly so I don’t see the destruction of her flowers.
I run up the steps to the front door. One after the other until my hand rests against the door handle.
Before I can even think about it, I open the door and it swings inside without a noise.
The thing that hits me is how quiet it is.
The music that usually welcomed me when I opened the door is gone.
Dad’s phone that rings off the hook doesn’t make a peep.
The gentle hum of the oven perpetually baking something has been turned off for the very last time.
My hands curl into fists as I move through the hallway and head straight for the kitchen.
I freeze at the doorway and sigh as I take a look around.
For the first time in days, that anger is replaced by a deep emptiness.
I’m not sure what I was hoping to see here.
She hasn’t been home in weeks anyway. Maybe I wanted some proof of her life, like she was just playing hide and seek.
It’s fucking pathetic. I’m a grown man. I watched the life drain out of her and every time I close my eyes, I will see that for the rest of my life.
I walk over to her radio and press play. ‘Un-break My Heart by Toni Braxton’ blasts out of her speakers. I walk over to the drinks cabinet and pull out my dad’s most expensive whiskey. Forgetting the glass, I make my way over to the bay windows and fall onto the window ledge.
The burn of the whiskey doesn’t help; I throw my head back and take two long drags before the alcohol swirls in my stomach.
My head drops against the wall as I overlook the garden, and my grip tightens around the bottle as my eyes drag over everything she spent years perfecting.
The hedges are cut too clean, the paths are too precise, the flowers are arranged in those stupid colour patterns she used to explain to me like I actually cared, like it meant something beyond just looking right.
I shake my head and push myself up off the ledge. This can’t be healthy, right?
What is fucking healthy anyway… my future wife is pregnant with her rapist’s baby, my dad is the reason for it, and I became an orphan overnight.
Jesus fucking Christ. The worst thing out of all of this is Mum would know.
She’d tell me how to navigate it. She’d tell me how to be balanced, and now she can’t.
I haven’t even buried them and already it feels like I’m being buried under everything they’ve left behind.
I drag my hand along the countertops before putting the bottle back to my mouth and taking two more big gulps of liquor as my fingertips follow the same path hers did multiple times.
The motion slows as something catches under my palm, a faint ridge in the wood where she once complained it had warped slightly.
She should be here. She should be moving around this kitchen, telling me to stop drinking straight from the bottle, telling me I look like shit, telling me to sit down so she can fix whatever I’ve just made worse.
Instead, I’m standing here alone, holding something that belonged to him, in a house that still feels like hers, surrounded by pieces of a life that hasn’t caught up to the fact she’s gone.
She is everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I push myself away from the counter as the bottle hangs loosely from my hand.
My feet carry me down the hallway on instinct alone until I’m standing outside his office.
I shove the door open and stumble slightly as my shoulder clips the frame.
The room looks exactly how he left it. Papers stacked.
Chair tucked in. Everything in its place like he’s just stepped out and will be back any second to pick up where he left off.
I move further in as my eyes drag over the desk before I drop into his chair and stare ahead. This is where he sat. Where he planned everything. Where he decided things that destroyed people’s lives without a second thought.
And I was too blind to stop him.
I should’ve seen it. I should’ve done something. I should’ve protected her.
My teeth grind together as the anger snaps back in.
Why the fuck didn’t they say anything? Fae’s twin is the goddamn best logistics officer we have seen in years.
If she was protecting me, then why not at least tell him?
I am so angry at her, at both of them. A pregnant woman and a fifty-year-old walked straight into a fucking trap, even a novice could tell you that.
Fae should have known better. Mum fucking should have known better. Why didn’t they know better?
“GODDAMN IT,” I scream and push his papers off the desk with a swish.
My eyes shift and land on the photo of me and him sitting on the edge of the desk. I stare at it as a dark feeling settles in my chest before I reach out and grab it. My fingers tighten around the frame as I look at his face and mine.
It feels like it belongs to a completely different life.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath before launching it across the room.
It smashes against the wall with a crack, glass shattering as it hits the floor, and I push myself up from the chair immediately and turn toward the door. My phone rings out but whoever it is can fuck off.
I can’t be in here.
I walk out, the sound of broken glass still echoes behind me as I move down the hallway.
I stumble slightly as the alcohol finally reaches my bloodstream.
I welcome the oblivion. My steps are uneven as I make my way to their bedroom.
The door is already slightly open when I get there and I push it wider as I step inside.
Mum’s scent hits me first. The fresh linen and cookies that only ever came from her engulf me.
“Mum…” The word roughly leaves my throat as my eyes burn.
Everything is in its place like the rest of the house.
Her presence sits in every corner without her actually being here and it is messing with my head in a way nothing else has.
I drag a hand over my mouth and walk further in.
Her cookbook catches my eye on the dresser and I step towards it.
My fingers brush over the cover. I flip it open.
Some of the pages are worn in places, whilst others look new.
Her handwriting fills the margins, and a small smile pulls at my mouth.
The pages crinkle as I turn them before stopping at the one she’s annotated the most. I chuckle at the title.
Roman’s future wife’s cake.
I wonder if it’s the one Fae had her heart set on.
My phone starts ringing again.
I close the book and set it back down as my hand lingers on it before I move to her jewellery.
There are pieces I’ve seen her wear my whole life sliding through my fingers.
Rings, bracelets, necklaces… things that wouldn’t usually matter, but they do because they’re hers.
They touched her skin when it wasn’t cold and lifeless but instead warm and full of possibility.
My throat tightens as I pick up a photo tucked beside the box.
It’s a photo of me, her and Fae at the ball Fae’s father put on after initiation.
My fingers trace her face as I see in real time the joy she had when she looked at Fae and me.
This is what I want to remember. Life, goddamn it.
Love. My phone rings again and instead of answering it, I take another swig of my drink.
The whiskey burns worse now, sitting thick in my throat as I drop down onto their mattress.
It dips under my weight and my arms come up behind my head as I stare at the ceiling.
The worst thing about this is I have so many questions that will never be answered.
From my dad, from my mum, from this whole fucked-up Company.
I once dreamed of giving my child a life that I had, but now the thought sits heavy in my stomach as fear overtakes me yet again.
Can I really keep them safe? Can I really be the father I’m meant to be or will I be chased by my dad’s ghost? My fingers drop into my pocket as I pull out my phone. Ignoring all the notifications, I scroll to the one thing I was looking for. My thumb hovers over the button before I press play.
My eyes close.
“Hey Roman, oh god, I’ve just found the cutest little outfit for your baby. I know you said not to buy any more but I can’t help it. How were you this small? Anyway, give Fae a kiss for me. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”
The room goes quiet as her voice disappears. I don’t move. Instead, I open my eyes and press play again.
“Hey Roman, oh god, I’ve just found the cutest little outfit for your baby…”
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time it hits harder, the words digging in deeper until my chest starts to cave in around it, and my breathing turns uneven as I bring the phone closer, like I can hold onto her voice if I just keep it playing.
“I’ll be home soon.”
My throat closes.
“I love you.”
A broken sound tears out of me before I can stop it, my face twisting as the pressure finally snaps and tears spill hard and fast down my face. I curl onto my side, pulling my knees in the same way I used to when I was a kid and she’d come sit beside me until I calmed down.
“She’s not coming back,” I choke as I grip the phone tighter and press it against my chest like it might bring her closer.
I press play.
“Hey Roman, oh god, I’ve just found the cutest little outfit for your baby. I know you said not to buy any more but I can’t help it. How were you this small? Anyway, give Fae a kiss for me. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”
Another sob rips through me, harsher this time. My body shakes as everything I’ve been holding in finally gives way. It’s ugly and uncontrollable and my dad would castrate me if he saw me. But he won’t. Because he’s not coming back.
And neither is she.
I bury my face into her pillow and let the pain take me under.
This time, there is no one here to pull me out of it.