Cole walks out of the flames, looking untouched. That is my breaking point. At that moment I am served with a five-course serving of rage that tastes bitter. I punch him in the face. Shaking my hand from the stinging after taste, the urge to do it again becomes overpowering. Much like coffee, its bitterness draws you in, knowing that with each sip you will feel more awake.
Gentle hands pull me back. I sink into their arms, tears run freely down my soot covered cheeks. David is gone. The thought runs over and over in my brain.
I stand looking at David’s tombstone. I still find it hard to believe that he’s gone. They say the pain of losing someone dulls with time, and that things get better. But how can things get better when the reason the pain isn’t so bad is because I will have forgotten? Over time, the memory of your presence will leak from my mind until you are a distant shadow, I will no longer see your face in strangers, and the memory of the things we once shared will no longer bring tears to my eyes. If getting past the pain means forgetting you. Then I choose to suffer my entire life. You were the one to bring me hope when I had none. It was you who brought light when all I could see was darkness. You taught me how to love and be strong. You made me who I am. I will hold you in my heart for as long as I live.
I stand looking at David’s tombstone. I still find it hard to believe that he’s gone. If they’d never come upon me that day so many years ago, David would be safe, and Clara’s heart would not have been shattered into a million pieces. It’s my fault David’s gone. The King and Order of Terror took them because of me. Now David’s dead.
I turn away from the grave and follow the narrow path out of the graveyard. Then walk down the cobblestone path that leads to my grandmother’s house.