51. FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-ONE
Using a wheelchair is not easy. Growing up, I never broke any of my bones, so I’ve never used crutches let alone a chair like this. But I can't bring myself to blame Finn. What happened then is just… not now. It’s nothing like now.
It’s not as if I don’t know it was wrong. It’s easier not to think about it most of the time. What’s the point in letting something I can’t control fester in my mind? Finn is all I have, and he really is trying.
He does everything for me. I know his love is genuine, I know that. Does it mean I don’t wish things could be normal? No, of course not. I really wish we could be back at my place, cuddling with Chalupa on the couch.
But we can’t.
Regardless, I’ve got the hang of it—but it’s a lot more exhausting than I thought it would be.
Wheeling over to the door, I snatch one of the big blue jackets with fur and put it on.
My attention shifts to the back door, and although the snow outside is scary I won’t let it deter me from what I want to do.
Taking a breath, I push the door open and venture out into the snowy December afternoon. There’s something magical about my breath turning into white wisps in front of me, and how the entire world is so quiet out here in the woods.
Before that would’ve terrified me, but now it’s relaxing. How many nights did I spend listening to the TV play before finally falling asleep? Too many to count, but never again. Never again.
There’s a beaten path for me to follow, but of course it isn’t going to be smooth sailing. I’ll do it slowly, dirt crunching underneath my wheels as I get over the first little incline. The rest of the way is oddly serene.
Pretty trees, the idle chirping of birds, and a world of possibility out there. What will Finn and I do later? Tomorrow? Our whole lives are ahead of us, and that's beyond exciting—isn't it?
By the time I make it to the patio, my arms are dead and my hands are frozen. But I made it! The first thing I notice is how the shed door is finally swung open, and I have no idea where Finn is.
Moving closer, an unfamiliar scent grabs hold of me. Something sweet—but not good. It’s thick and greasy and rotting. I gag immediately, covering my mouth with my sleeve before I catch a glimpse of what’s inside.
What?
A figure is slumped over in the darkness, head hung forward as its withering body rests awkwardly into the corner. It’s too hard to make it out at first, just a blend of pale reds and sickly looking bruises. Then I make out a pair of eyes, clouded yellow and sunken in.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Panic takes over as I try to push myself back, but the stupid fucking thing won’t move. I hear myself breathing heavily before I really feel the terror of it all. What is that? What is that?
But I already know. I already know. The same wide nose. The same wavy brown hair. It’s his dad. Oh, god, it’s his dad. I’m going to be sick. Clamping a hand against my mouth, the roaring sea in my stomach becomes unbearable.
“Duncan…?”
No. No. No, no, no.
“W-What are you doing out here, Duncan? It’s cold, and…” Finn’s voice trails off, and even though I can’t see him I know he’s looming behind me. “You shouldn’t be here, bunny.” The dark color of his voice is almost haunting. “Go back inside. Now.”
Spinning around, terror sprawls across my face as our eyes meet. “What is this!? What the hell happened? You… you didn’t…”
Finn takes a step forward, stabbing the shovel he's holding into the ground. “I told him to stop.”
No. This isn’t happening. My last shred of resolve finally snaps. The ugliest, most guttural sob I’ve ever let out rips through the trees around us. But no one is around to hear it.
He continues talking but I don’t care to listen, sending myself down the hill in some weak attempt to escape. I need to be away from him. I can’t stay here. I don’t want to die. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.
“Fuck—!” My wheel snags on a rock, the chair falling onto its side after sending me flying forward onto the ground with a thud. I’m trembling, but not from how cold it is out here.
A strong hand grabs me by the ankles, flipping me over and sending a jolt of pain across my frame. Finn is staring down at me, an expression so neutral it’s almost worse than anger.
“I told him to stop,” he repeats. “But he just had to keep saying it. Keep on calling me that horrible word. My mom always said it was so foul. So f-fucking foul… but he didn’t stop.”
Neither of us move an inch.
“Even when I got older he thought he could do whatever. Thought he could hit me like he used to. Thought I’d just take it. Thought… G-Guh…” Finn’s fists tighten in balls. “No. No! I-I didn’t do anything wrong! Don't… D-don't make that face! Y-You don’t know… you don’t understand!”
“You killed him.”
He pounces on me, and although I raise my hands up protectively he doesn’t hurt me. Once again, his hold is a prison. Finn’s arms don’t feel safe the same way they did before. “He killed my mom. Buried her where no one would find her. He had it coming. H-He killed my mom, Duncan!”
“Finn…”
“S-Stop it, Duncan! Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what!?”
“Like you’re scared!”
My heart drops into my stomach. “You…”
“No. I’m not... No, no!” Finn begins marching back towards the house, his fingers digging into my skin so painfully deep. “It’s not over. This isn’t over. You still love me, right? You love me? P-Please say you love me.”
Wiping my tearstained cheeks, I can only sniffle. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I had to,” he growls. “Say you love me, Duncan.”
I can’t. How can I? Not even pretending would fix this. He’s a murderer. I know that his dad was awful, I do. I really do. But he killed him. He killed him! Am I supposed to just ignore that? How can I? I can’t. I can’t!
“Why aren’t you saying it?” The door hinges scream as he kicks it open, heading straight for his bedroom. “Duncan?”
“I… I-I just…”
Finn blinks. “I’m not giving you up. I won’t. You’re mine. So love,” he takes a panicked breath, “me. You… we’re in love! Say it, Duncan! S-Seriously!”
“I-I can’t… Finn,” I gasp, “I can’t.”
He angrily throws me onto the bed before slamming his fist into the wall. “Fuck!” Another punch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Three more punches. “This can’t be happening. T-This can’t…”
Finn goes silent, only turning back to me once his breathing goes back to normal. “Please, Dunk. Please. You have to understand. He… He really was so awful. Wouldn’t you want to do the same to your parents?”
“N-No!” I find myself screaming. “No I wouldn’t!”
“They wanted to ruin your life! They wanted to change you! Doesn’t that make you angry!?”
“Of course it does! But I wouldn’t… I couldn’t hurt them!”
His face contorts into pure disgust. “But you wanted to hurt yourself? Huh?” His tone is so unlike himself.
“But—”
“But nothing!”
Suddenly, it’s as if nothing has changed. Like I’m back in the basement pleading for my life. Everything we had worked so hard for is gone in the blink of an eye, and I don’t know if we can get it back this time.
Why did it have to end this way?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry.”
“Say you love me!”
“I love you!” I do not. I can’t. But I’m too scared to find out what will happen if I won't tell him what he wants. “P-Please, Finn. I love you… I love you so much…”
Sobbing, my body convulses in a way only genuine panic can cause. It’s like I’m shutting down. Like the horror of seeing an actual dead body has only caught up to me now, and I can’t. I can’t. I really can’t.
I’m sorry, but I can’t.