There is a little light around. From wind chimes and glass flowers scattered about, the moonlight reflects on them when it’s not being covered by the rain clouds, making them look like stars dusted throughout the grounds. This won’t do. I need to see his name. I veer off and walk towards one of the groundskeeper shacks. There must be torches in there. I locate the silhouette of the small hut and approach it, finding a thick chain through the latch. Who the fuck locks up a shack that has nothing of value in it?
This refreshes my anger. I’m running on nothing but animosity and adrenaline. This must be how Caden feels all the time. No wonder he’s so strong. I feel like I could fight a fucking bear right now.
I kick at the hut door, rather aggressively. Obviously, it does nothing. I can’t kick through a metal chain.
I huff and walk round the shack, seeing if there’s a way in through the back but find something even better than that. There are some tools that have been propped up and left. Including a couple of shovels. Perfect.
I grab a shovel and go back round to the front and absolutely assault the chain until it breaks and falls to the ground. The rain mingles with sweat on my skin, the warmth from the exertiondisarming the chill of the raindrops. I fling the door open and search blindly through the shelves and drawers.
Eventually, I find a torch. I walk back out, grabbing the shovel again. It’ll be good to keep in the car on my travels, a bit of protection until I can get my hands on a gun or something better. That was another thing I messed up in my frenzy to escape. I should have broken into and raided Caden’s armoury.
Basically, I’ve made hardly any excellent decisions tonight.
I light the way, the grass and mud squelching underneath my bare feet. Perhaps I should have spared five seconds to grab a pair of shoes. Perhaps I should have done a lot of things differently now I reflect on it. But that’s what we always do, isn’t it? We act on impulse, instinct, desperation, and it’s not until the dust settles, the adrenaline fizzles out, that logic decides to reappear and point out all the stupid decisions you made during your flight-or-fight moments.
It’s done now. I may not have shoes, or money, or dignity, but I have my freedom. I did it. I got away. That’s all that really matters now.
I reach Lewis’s grave again and let my body collapse to the ground. Mud splatters up around me, but I couldn’t care less how dirty I am. I’ve been dirty far more often than clean in my miserable little life. I drop the shovel and torch and place my hands on top of the grass where my brother lies beneath.
“I did it, Lewis. I got out,” I whisper, letting the tears finally well up and my nose starts tingling. “It was fucking awful there. It’s been awful everywhere without you. But I made it out. I hope you’re proud.”
I imagine what he’d say. If he’d say he was proud or if he’d scold me for being so stupid.
You have no plan, no back-up, El, what the fuck were you thinking?
I shake the thought away. He wouldn’t say that. If he knew how bad it was, he’d have told me to escape sooner.
“It’s been so hard, Lew, so fucking hard.” The tears are falling freely now, my voice cracking with my cries. “Why did you have to leave me, Lewis? Why? Why you?”
Devastation seeps in quickly. Tragedy. Memory. Fear. Pain.
It all swells and floods in so fast the next thing I know I’m thumping my fists onto the ground.
“Why leave me, Lewis? I can’t do this shit without you!” I scream, the force scratching at my throat like glass. “This is all your fault!” The agony rips through me, becoming a living thing that begins shredding through my chest. “You left me and now look at me! Look what I’ve become!” Mud goes flying as I bash my fists into it, splattering my face. “You’re a bastard!” Racking sobs hack my throat, talons rake at my heart. “I hate you! I hate you!I hate you!”
I fall forward, my weight too much to hold up any longer. My forehead lands on my forearms, fingers dig deep into the sodden grass, burrowing into the dirt. Rain pummels my back as I bow over the ground covering my brother’s grave. My devastated wails being carried off by the relentless wind as my chest cleaves in two.
“Caden was right,” I say, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know who I am without you.” My body rolls to the side and I curl my legs up to my chest. “I am empty.” I sniffle. “I am dead.”
Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s psychosis, but I hear him.
“El?”
My breath disappears. “Lew?”
“El!”
My eyes pop open. I roll onto my hands and knees. “Lew, what the fuck?!” I bang my fists on the ground. “Can you hear me?”
“El!”
Panic sets hard and heavy in my chest. Without thinking, I grab the shovel. It sinks into the ground easily, like a knife through butter, thanks to the rain.
“Lewis,” my voice breaks, “you’re telling me you left me alone all this time and you weren’t even fucking dead?”
He doesn’t respond, and that makes me dig harder. “Lewis, I’m coming, hang on!”
If he’s alive I’m going to fucking kill him myself. How could he leave me for so long? How could he let me suffer without him?
