53. Ryder
I love you, Ryder.
The sound of her voice echoes in my hazy mind. I replay the sound again and again as I come to. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I wake to an empty bed. A pink envelope that looks all too familiar rests on her pillow where I could have sworn she was just lying. My hands shake as I reach for it, dreading its contents.
My dearest Ryder,
I spent too much of my time believing that the hunt would bring me closer to her, closer to peace. But instead, it brought me to you. I will always mourn her… but you helped me to stop mourning the part of me that was taken with her. To be the recipient of your fullness, your kindness, your touch, your heart… is both all-consuming and unbearable.
I couldn’t do it, Ryde. I couldn’t take something from you, even when he took everything for me. Because the irony is that without him, there is no you. And you, Ryder… you are everything.
Take the time you need to hate me, but don’t grieve. We did enough of that together. Too much, I’d say. Once you are done, remember our mirrored souls and the promises we made. Then, remember that you love me and hold onto that until your own time runs out.
If fate is kind enough to allow us to bring some memories with us, I’ll be remembering the way your lips slightly part right now as you sleep. I’ve memorized you memorizing every inch of me. I’ll never forget being wrapped in your whiskey and oak scent as it clings to me long after you’ve let go. I’ll remember the pain, but only because I don’t want to forget a single ounce of us. Mostly, I’ll try to remember that even in a perfect world, there would have never been enough time for me to love you, and I know that once that thought settles in your soul, you’ll understand why I had to be the one to choose myself.
I was just a chapter. You still have a whole book to finish. When you are done here, and your next chapter begins, come for me. In this life and the next, I know you always will. But remember your promise and meet me where it all began.
A photograph is tucked in the envelope. Trying to understand what I’m holding, the bottom of the page reads the final words that ignite my feet, pushing me from the bed.
There are no truer words than the ones I will leave you with here. I love you deeply. I love you fiercely. I should have told you sooner. I love you for loving me, and I know you will love me after you hate me for what I’m doing now.
I will love you always,
Your Devina
I glance over to the nightstand and the drawer is pulled slightly, absent my gun. My feet ignite into motion before my brain fully catches up. I sprint down the hall, still unable to find my voice. The tears cloud my vision as I steady myself with the banister and fumble down the stairs in a panic.
I turn the corner to the study and swing the door open with a thud.
There she stands in her yellow dress, eyes gaunt and gun to her temple.
Our eyes connect and in that moment, the fear dissipates from her body. I see relief and I know that she is asking to be let go. Not from me, but from the pain. From the prison of her body that has become just as agonizing as the torture of her mind and heart. She is ready to be free. She is begging me to let her go. Our last standoff.
Time stands still. I can feel the rage, the shame, the grief leave her and she looks frail, beaten down but victorious. Angelic. Her soul pleads with mine. I can feel it, I can feel her. And mine thanks hers for the gift of this one last intimate moment, for I cannot deny her of the freedom she so desperately deserves. Her gaze begins to drift past me and I wonder if death would be so cruel as to take her just moments before she has one last opportunity to do the only thing she could choose for herself.
But she is determined and she breaks our gaze with a soft blink. I release the letter I’ve been clinging to and it floats gently to the ground. In a moment of selfishness, I lunge toward her.
Her eyelids meet one final time and she pulls the trigger.
I’m too late.
I catch her as she falls to the ground. Cradling her to me I release a sound that I’ve never heard before.
No.
No.
No.
You can’t be gone.
You can’t leave me.
“No, Devina. No. No. No!” I shout into the empty room.
Desperately, my hands scramble to try and piece her back together as I shatter around her.
Blood. There is so much blood.
Pieces of her are scattered against the wall behind us, dripping to the floor.
Deciding I have already spent too much time in this life without her, and full of agony, I grab the gun still in her hand.
Raising our hands to my head desperate to go to her wherever she is, I don’t hesitate. I plunge.
Click.
Click.
Click.
She knew. She knew I’d come for her and she forbade it by only allowing for a single bullet in the chamber.
“FUCK!” I scream as MaryClaire runs into the room before coming to an abrupt halt. A deafening cry echoes in the room around us. She falls into Declan’s embrace as he approaches her. Confused, he turns to look at the grotesque scene. His eyes become wide as he cradles MaryClaire and braces himself weakly against the door frame. They fall to the ground, MaryClaire’s shoulders shaking with sobs.
I don’t care. I can’t care because I can only feel the tacky wetness sending a tidal wave through my senses.
Blood.
More blood.
The crimson fluid begins to thicken, seeping through my skin to my bones until I taste a mixture of copper with the salt of my tears.
It is then that I think of her green eyes fluttering to mine as the sun shines through our sheer curtains. I Remember the feeling of her soft cheek against my fingertips, as I cradle her and hold what is left of her head against me. I remember her voice as she purrs my name just before drifting off to sleep. I remember the last words she gifted me.
I love you, Ryder.
I remember my last promise and I know what has to be done. I gently place what is left of her on my lap, frozen in place, as people begin to move around me.
“I’ll come for you, my little sparrow. I’ll come for you.”
A whispered promise that I will keep in this life and every one after.