Epilogue
EPILOGUE
EVERYBODY’S DEAD INSIDE – ALISSIC
RIPLEY
Present Day
In the interview room, horrified silence reigns over my audience. I take a sip of my water, some slopping over the edge due to the incessant shaking of my hand. It does little to relieve my throat, raw from hour after hour of talking.
Staring down at his notebook, Elliot is speechless. It’s an amusing sight. He brought me here, expecting a story. Boy, has he got one. Perhaps not the tale he thought he’d tell, though. The truth is never simple.
Relaxed against the wall, Hudson stares into space. He hasn’t made eye contact once throughout the entire afternoon or evening. I’m sure his own bleak memories of that time are rising to the surface. We all lost something inside the institutes.
Elliot clears his throat. “Well. That was quite the tale.”
“I warned you.”
“Details of Incendia’s experimental program are few and far between. Hearing a firsthand account… It is harrowing.”
“The world ought to know. They still see us as monsters. Freaks. Criminals.” I curl my lip in distaste. “The ones to blame .”
“No one blames you, Rip,” Hudson croaks.
Looking into his crystalline stare, I ignore Elliot observing us in my periphery. Hudson isn’t one for emotions, but so much is simmering behind his blue eyes. All manner of rage and bloodlust.
“I blame me. It took experiencing the true extent of their evil for me to wake up to the truth. To choose the right side.”
“You were trying to survive.”
“So was everyone else,” I refute.
Head hitting the wall once more, Hudson blows out a breath. “The world will never understand what we sacrificed to still be here today, able to tell this tale.”
“And that’s why we’re here.” Elliot caps his fountain pen. “So the world will know.”
I’m not sure what good it will do, a whole decade down the line. Evil and atrocity continue to this day. Society has a short-term memory when it comes to injustice. What happened back then taught them nothing.
I don’t care if anyone watches this interview. I don’t even care if it’s ever broadcast to the nation. Old Ripley resolved not to run, and this Ripley can’t do it for a moment longer either. The ghosts I carry need to be excavated.
Only then can we find peace.
Only then… can I begin to forgive myself.
Elliot stretches his shoulders, chatting quietly to his cameraman. Taking another sip of water, I glance at Hudson who’s taking a hushed phone call. He acts like he isn’t studying me from the corner of his eye.
“You think I’m done?” I watch Elliot rise.
He startles, looking up at me. “Uh, I just assumed?—”
Bitter laughter escapes me.
“That was only the beginning of the story.”
“Would you like to continue?” Elliot asks, eyes wide with surprise.
“Well, I’m still here.”
With a slow nod, he settles back in his seat. Hudson finishes his phone call then waves to grab my attention. He mouths an apology, stepping outside to let someone else in.
It’s almost like he planned it.
Scheming bastard.
Warner takes his place, briefly clasping his arm as they cross paths. Over the last ten years, his dark hair has become peppered with silver. It looks good on him. Glancing around the studio with his attentive gaze, he gifts me a tense smile.
I return it. Somehow, it seems only right that he’s appeared to witness the retelling of what came next. After all, it’s his story too. We wrote the next chapter together.
Elliot turns to a fresh page, plucking the cap back off his fountain pen. “By all reports, Harrowdean Manor fell into violence. A riot broke out overnight. Incendia kept it quiet, though.”
“They were losing the fight. That’s why.”
He nods, poised to take fresh notes. “Tell us what happened next, Ripley.”
“Harrowdean wasn’t just my kingdom anymore. It was all of ours.” I look to Warner, still here all these years later. “Right, Langley?”
His baby blues twinkle.
“Right.”
To be concluded in…
Burn Like An Angel (Harrowdean Manor #2)