Epilogue
Three Months later
Ryven
It’s funny how the district smells different with no more burning bodies laying around.
No need for more incense burning to mask the rot and decay of what we did.
Now we have just the clean air and the scent of morning bread from the market three blocks down.
Honestly, it still surprises me every time I smell it.
I’m not used to smelling such wonderful things.
Life smells normal when it’s not drowning in blood.
Our two bedroom house with an actual working locking door is what we call our humble abode now.
I lean against the railing on the balcony with my mug of tea in my hand, watching Rory move around our small front garden.
She is adorable with her bare feet and her dirty knees.
Her lips purse in concentration as she focuses on repoting something with big leaves. I wonder if it will take this time.
As I’m enjoying the view, a sound I haven’t heard before, filters through the air. She’s humming. Humming? Since when does she hum?
I don’t comment on it. I don’t want it to end.
The sound is soothing. It’s been three months since we took down the cult.
Three months since Cedric bled out at my feet after stabbing him with the knife that nearly had me joining him in death.
Three months since Rory screamed my name through the flames, and I ran until my lungs burned just to get to her.
We survived though. Barely, but we did it. Now, we live.
Even though Rory has taken a step back from the rebellion, it didn’t vanish.
It reformed into a smaller, more focused task force.
Jennifer took over as our head of the district along with a group of voted in members all working together to keep us healthy, fed, and safe.
Democracy isn’t something I would’ve ever thought I’d see in our district. But here we are.
Even though the cult is gone, people still look at me funny.
Some of them stare at me with fear in their eyes and walk to the other side of the street to get away.
I don’t blame them. I’ve done things I’ll never stop dreaming about.
Nightmares take over almost every night of all the wrong I have done.
But the mask is gone now. It was burned with the rest of the past, including Joey’s mask alongside mine.
The man I used to be when I wore it is long gone.
Now, I stroll with my family down the street. I carry groceries home from the store. I help rebuild our district one brick at a time. I sleep better than I deserve at night. I finally have my woman and a life that I can be proud of.
Rory, on the other hand, grows vegetables now. She teaches self-defence to the younger kids around town, and she refuses to lock our door even though it works. She has always been the brave one.
Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Stop staring and come help me with this damn thing,” she commands, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
I smirk at her and push off the railing. “Yes, ma’am,” I mutter, kneeling beside her.
After a moment, she reaches for my hand, and I let her have it. She looks at me for a long moment and licks her lips. Then she smiles softly. “I think I might be pregnant.”
I feel like someone has stolen all the air from my lungs. “You think?”
She shrugs. “I’m late. I haven’t been sick or anything, but I just know. I can feel it.”
This changes everything. We are building a life together.
We may have a child together. This is everything I ever wanted.
Right? Then why does it feel like I can’t breathe?
Why does it feel like the world is shrinking in on me?
Will I be a good dad? Will I be enough for this family? Am I worthy after everything I’ve done?
As my spiraling continues internally, her voice breaks the silence that seems to be getting thicker by the minute.
“I don’t know if this world is ready for a child yet.” She clears her throat. “But if there’s a chance that I can have this baby, Ryven. I want it. I want us to finally build the life we always dreamed of.”
I lean forward and rest my head against hers, kissing her forehead softly. “If it isn’t ready, then we’ll make it ready, Ro. That I can promise you.”
One Year Later
Rory
Sirens still blare in the distance sometimes.
Nothing like it used to be though. I still wake some mornings with old memories lodged in my throat I gasp from.
But even though I’m still haunted by the past, laughter is in the alleyways now.
There didn’t used to be any before. Now you walk outside and get to watch the kids run and play. Animals frolick in the grass.
This district is still far from perfect. But with Jen’s insight, we have become a better community. We’ve learned to work together to sustain this life.
It’s eight in the morning, and I’m currently following my morning routine.
I sit on the front porch of our home with my mug of tea in one hand, and our son in the other.
JJ is wrapped in a blanket we made from old rags, but it does the job in keeping him warm.
We named our son after my brother. I gaze at him, brushing my lips across the fuzz of his hair.
“You’re not cold, are you?” I ask, like he’ll answer and of course he doesn’t. I can’t help but laugh at myself.
The door behind me opens with a loud creak and Ryven steps out with his own mug. “What’s so funny?” He takes a seat next to us on the step.
“I just asked our son if he was cold like he could answer.”
He chuckles and smiles warmly at our son. He is good with our child. Better than I ever expected him to be. Not because I thought he’d be a bad father. It’s just all the trauma we’ve grown up around changed us, so I wasn’t expecting this tenderness from him.
There are times I wonder if our son will ever know what we came from. If he’ll notice when our hands flinch as someone knocks too hard, or how we both scan crowds of people without realizing it. The trauma the cult gave us, lingers. I don’t see it ever going away. But it doesn’t control us anymore.