Having always lived under the belief of going out in a blaze of glory being the better choice compared to wasting away behind the safety net of sense and stability, I had very little in the ways of true remorse for what I’d accomplished these past thirty-five years.
Choosing to embrace every thrill that came my way and push the limits on what life had to offer no matter the cost, I chased the rush and the risks and hardly ever looked back on the consequences that followed close on my coattails.
It was the illusions of a life well-lived that I’d once believed were proof I’d somehow beaten the odds, unlike my dad whose carefully cautious lifestyle had put him into an early grave.
A real carpe diem that had soon fallen short the moment the rocks beneath my feet had crumbled away and I’d plunged to my demise.
At least there was no pain now or a slow, agonizing pull into death to endure.
I supposed that should’ve made me happy. To have died in a quick accident rather than a long, drawn out one. A snap of a finger and the blink of an eye, my life snuffed out far too soon, just like my father’s was.
Poetic. Ironic. And a little bit macabre.
Was that the way the Knight men were meant to leave this world?
Here one minute and gone the next?
Did my mom ever suspect I’d follow in her husband’s footsteps so soon after?
God, my poor mom...
She was going to lose it when Silas called her to tell her the news. Both of her family members dead within two years of each other.
How was she going to cope?
She was a mess at my dad’s funeral. Soaked from the rain drenching the funeral procession while she cried against his coffin before I finally had to peel her off of it so the groundskeepers could lower it into the ground.
Burying me was going to kill her. She wasn’t supposed to outlive us both.
I never even told her I’d come up to Wakefield to spend the summer at a wilderness adventure camp, figuring what was the point in worrying her when I’d be back soon enough and with plenty of stories to entertain her over dinner.
Regret seized me hard.
To think the last time I’d stepped outside my house and into that cool, morning air had been just that. Getting drunk at the dive bar with Avery and Silas while they listened patiently to my romantic woes was the last time I’d ever see them. Talking on the radio to Blake to convince him to come up to Craigleith’s peak, only to find me already long gone.
What would he think?
What news had accosted him the moment he’d finally made that final ascension up to where our campsite was?
Sheer panic?
Confused worry?
Neither he, nor his staff, were at fault for my stupid moment of panic that ultimately ended with me going over the edge of that rock shelf. There was nothing anyone could’ve done differently. Not Elaine, or Talos, or any of the other fifteen who were there simply trying to enjoy the view.
I hoped my death wasn’t the end for his business. Having something like that on their record, even if it was a simple and tragic accident, wouldn’t matter to the masses of people who would see it reported in the newspaper and demand for the place to be shut down for negligence.
All because of a fucking snake.
Something brushed against my cheek causing my skin to tingle.
“I’m so sorry,” someone whispered from somewhere.
Yeah, me too.
I hoped Blake didn’t hate me. I hoped my mother could forgive me.
“They just called. Helicopter is being dispatched in five,”someone else said, farther away.
