Loss

Despondency

She came racing down the stairs - “There’s been an accident!”
“Calm down.”
“There’s been an accident!”
“Breathe in and out. Calm down.”
“There’s been…”
“In and out.” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
She collapsed within his grasp and he guided her fall to the ground. She began to sob. He gently stroked her back as he knelt down beside her. It tore at his heart to see her like this; six months hadn’t numbed him at all. She was a fragile, miserable, damaged mess.
He sat with her and consoled her until the sobbing and shaking ceased. She became perfectly still, and her gaze didn’t shift from the cold floor tiles upon which she half-lay half-sat. “Was it a dream? Was it all a dream?” she asked, her voice pure desperation.
“No.”
“Tell me it was an f-ing dream!” she screamed pleadingly at the impassive sea of marble, her voice echoing as it bounced from wall to wall of the cavernous room.
“I can’t. It happened. They’re gone – you’re never going to see Michael or Gabbie again.” He hated this part. It was all he could do not to break down himself.
She looked straight into his eyes; he could see the path the tears had taken on their voyage down her cheeks. “No... You’re lying... Why are you lying to me?”
He ran a troubled hand through his hair. That was the thing – he wasn’t lying, although sometimes he wished he could. It seemed like it would be so much easier. He felt that his resolve was weakening – he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Night after night he went through the same thing. Night after night he felt like a piece of himself broke off and shattered. It was just so hard, so draining. He was only twenty-one.
He swept a ringlet of blonde hair away from her eye but she seemed oblivious to it. She just kept staring at him quizzically. He looked into her sad eyes earnestly, “I’m not lying Case. You don’t know how much I wish I was, but I’m not…”
She slapped him, as hard as she could. Shakily she got to her feet and ran back up the stairs, her nightgown flowing along behind her. She managed to look so graceful at the most impossible times. For a few minutes he stayed kneeling on the floor, his cheek stinging. Eventually he got to his feet and turned off the lights. Slowly, he made his way to his bedroom, climbed into bed, and lay awake with his thoughts.
And I saw it all.

* * *

Guilt

Her shriek must have reverberated off every wall and high ceiling in the manor. He was on his feet in seconds; it was not a normal scream. His bare feet pounded against the icy tiles but he didn’t notice their coldness. As he sprinted down the hallway in his boxer shorts her safety was his only concern.
He came to her door and it flung open centimetres from his face. Before he knew it a man clad entirely in black set upon him. The shock of seeing this intruder immobilised him for a split second, but it was all the time his assailant needed. A fierce blow to the stomach left him doubled-over and winded, a kick to the side of the head knocked him to the ground. His head throbbed and his vision was blurred, but he managed to roll away and quickly get back to his feet. Then he saw past the black-clad invader into her moonlit room; her white nightgown had caught his attention. Suddenly he could see with perfect clarity. She was writhing under the clutches of another man just like the one before him. An intense anger enveloped him.
His attacker didn’t waste any more time and lunged at him. He had no time to side-step – his back slammed against the wall. The plaster smashed from the force of the tackle, causing a painting to fall to the ground; its frame met the tiles with a resounding crack. She shrieked again hysterically, “Where are you Michael? Where are you?”
He wasn’t Michael but he was all she had. He began to beat desperately at the man’s head as hard as he could. The invader started to retaliate. Blow after pained blow he struck at his combatant. From the other room her squeals became muffled and all he could hear was the sound of breathing. Tapping into a desperate, angry strength he swung his arm in a wide arc, catching the invader in the temple. He felt the man go limp almost instantly. He staggered to his feet and focused his eyes on her room.
Rather audaciously he stumbled straight through the doorway. He readied himself for pain once more, but none came. His gaze fell upon her. She had her back to him and was standing eerily still. Her shoulders were slumped. He peered around her to see what she was staring down at. He saw a lifeless black shape lying in a small pool of blood. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Michael’s not coming, is he?” she said quietly.
“No,” I whispered to her, racked with guilt. Although of course she wouldn’t hear me.
“No.” He answered, taking her in his arms.

* * *

Promise

“It’s not safe here anymore, we have to leave,” he said, sounding much less afraid than he felt. Inwardly he was still in shock – not only by the suddenness of the attack, but also by her admission of the permanency Michael’s absence. Since his brother’s disappearance she’d been in a perpetual state of traumatised denial. The attack must have jolted her out of it. Seeing a sign of progress fortified his will.
He winced as she gently touched the side of his head. “You’re bleeding.” Blood had been running down the side of his face since the first kick from the man in the hallway. A man who could wake up at any moment, they had to get moving.
She touched his bottom lip softly; he could only guess that it had been cut and was bleeding too. Then she slowly ran her hands over his smooth, hard chest. The sensation was amazing, but uncomfortably wrong. He took her hands in his, removing them from his chest. “Come on Case, we have to go. Grab some clothes and as few other things as possible. Can you do that?” She nodded twice and cast her eyes downward. He gave her hands what he hoped felt like a reassuring squeeze, then turned to walk back to his room.
“Nick.” He was at the doorway.
“Yes?” She looked like a bloody angel.
“Thank you.” He smiled painfully and walked back down the hall.
I prayed Casey would take Gabbie’s photo with her.

* * *

Hope

He watched as she rubbed the sides of the photo frame over and over between her thumb and index fingers. She was gripping it so tightly that her knuckles were white. He often saw her sleeping with the photo lying on her pillow; as though she was sleeping with her daughter next to her again.
He shook the memories of his niece from his mind – he had to think, to figure out where they could go that would be safe. He thought of the men still inside the house. He didn’t want to ask her how she’d managed to kill that man, and it didn’t really matter anyway. He had done his best to tie up the other one, so hopefully they had enough time to get away before he summoned others.
She was still staring intently at the image of Gabbie as the first light of morning shone through the windscreen and into the car. The photo in her hands seemed to illuminate; streaks of light shone and bounced and danced off the silver frame. “Home.” She spoke the word with such assuredness. “We need to go home.”
He sat motionless for a moment, and then against all of his better judgement said, “Home it is.”
He turned the keys in the ignition.
I rejoiced.

* * *

Truth

Night had fallen once more as they pulled into the driveway of the single-storey suburban house. She had lived there with his brother for six years. She had been through incredible joy and unknowable hurt whilst living within those walls. He could only imagine how she must have been feeling seeing it again.
They got out of the car. “So what now?” he asked, nervously scanning their surroundings.
“The swing.”
“What do you think you’ll find?”
“I hope we’ll find answers, Nick.”
He looked at the photograph of Gabbie that she was still clutching. It showed her sitting on a swing hanging from the giant maple tree in their backyard. It looked as though it had been a sunny autumnal day. Patches of sunlight had crept through the dense foliage and the ground was littered with leaves; at least two were frozen in their slow descent just beside her. The expression on Gabbie’s face was sweet. She was a very pretty little girl. Her eyes sparkled as if she knew something the photographer wasn’t supposed to know.
They walked through the house. It had been ransacked – furniture was upturned and smashed, unimportant documents were scattered about the floor – but she seemed unperturbed. She just walked on through it all resolutely and then out into the backyard. He marvelled at how much she’d changed over the course of just one day.
He watched as she stood before the swing and grabbed hold of one of the ropes, as if making sure it was real. She lingered there for a moment before approaching the great tree. There was a small hollow about a metre up from the ground. She reached inside and felt around. Suddenly her arm was still – she’d found something. She pulled her hand out of the hollow and he saw that she was holding an envelope. There was one word written on the front: ‘Casey.’ She carried it back to the light of the house, and he followed along behind her.
He’d received a letter from his brother too: six months ago. It instructed him to take Casey to a manor far away in the mountains in the event that anything untoward happened. Only there would they be safe, and it was there that they must stay. His brother gave him no explanation, only his eternal thanks and love.
They were in her bedroom now, and she sat down on the underside of her overturned bed.
He sat down next to her. She opened the letter slowly, taking care not to tear the envelope. She unfolded it; he felt her tremble slightly as she read the first line.

I thought that I could save Gabbie, I really did. I thought that if I had enough money I could fix the whole thing. But you can’t fix cancer. And especially not with money. I watched my wife and brother as they learnt the truth about what I’d done. How my inability to cope with the promise of loss undid me, and forced them into hiding. How ashamed and sorry I was. How I hoped that they would forgive me. How I prayed that no harm would come to them.
A wave of relief washed over me; they knew the truth. And now she was strong again. They would be ready to face whatever lay ahead of them. They had each other and they had hope. And I would continue to watch them, and be with them, be it only in spirit.