Bound for Nirvana

by Kendra Leigh

  We started with her Dad.

  The sniveling, cocksucker was so much in his element, he was practically frothing at the mouth when he spewed his venom. A mass of poisonous, disease-ridden bullshit. What kind of crazy fuck comes up with that shit? And worse, spends most of his life believing it.

  For the one second it took for me to realize what the stench of bull was, I got a glimpse of what it was like to die. My heart ceased to beat, too strangled by the earth-shattering pain lancing through it to even try.

  That’s when I knew.

  Knew that if I didn’t find her and find her fast—I might never see her again. Might never get to see her perfect face, or smell her heavenly skin, or taste her or hold her or bury myself inside her. And my heart would never beat again.

  Christ only knows the agony she must have suffered in those five days. The lies fuelled by jealousy and a deluded mind driving her to self-destruct, her body and mind enduring a slow, torturous suffering with only one unimaginable culmination.

  That fucker had laughed with the depraved malevolence of Satan himself when he’d read the so-called “love letter” aloud. A tatty scrap of paper that had exacerbated his delusions, inflamed his paranoid, erroneous conclusions to the point in which he’d thrived on them. He said he’d followed Angel’s mom to the building where my parents lived in the penthouse. He’d seen her give the note to the doorman, but he’d intercepted it before the man had chance to deliver it. Paid him handsomely, he said. Then he went to Central Park, to Gapstow Bridge where he confronted her about the affair.

  He’d been waiting for this moment ever since. He’d fed and housed my father’s bastard, just to deprive him of her, and vice versa. Felicity had left a piece of her behind, but he was damned if he was going to let Richard Wilde have it. Mine and Angel’s relationship, he said, was the cherry on top of the cake—ultimate revenge.

  There was never a second of doubt in either of my parents’ expressions as he relayed his story and reeled off the words on the page without even looking. Fury, incredulity, pity even, but never doubt. And when I heard Felicity Lawson’s voice speaking out from that piece of paper, I realized Harley Lawson’s mistake immediately.

  R

  Can’t let you go without saying goodbye, I’d never forgive myself. And Angel would hate me for it.

  Meet you in the usual place, 4:30 p.m.

  Love always

  F x

  My mother had snatched the note from his hand, her countenance fevered with realization and grief. “You stupid, crazy fool of a man. Is this all you’ve got apart from your sick, twisted mind? This is why you sentenced that poor girl to a lifetime of sheer hell. You murdered my best friend—tried to kill your own daughter, because of this?” My mother’s voice, strained with tears and regret slapped him in the face with brute force anger. “The R is for Ronnie—Veronica. The note was meant for me. She was waiting for me—and you killed her.”

  It took all my strength not to kill him there and then with my bare hands, but all I could think about was finding Angel. My last words were a promise of what I would do to him if I didn’t. “I will torture you slowly. I will puncture your spineless neck, hang you by your feet, and watch you bleed to death, you fucked-up, worthless piece of shit.”

  The fucker wasn’t laughing when we left.

  We spent the next five days chasing our tails in fucking circles. Checking everywhere we’d already looked and then checking again. The hospitals came up with nothing, airports the same. The police were next to fucking useless, and with no tracker on the Volvo, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack—a very precious, very delicate needle. Finally, it was Abby talking to Alisha that gave us the clue we needed.

  Folding the piece of paper in my hand, I pushed it back inside my pocket. I’d lost count of the amount of ways I could have avoided Angel’s slow decline into Hell. Lost count of the amount of ways I could have misused that single, precious minute that was the difference between her living and dying. But as I gazed down at her breathlessly beautiful, sleeping body, closed my hand around her warm fingers, laid my head against her beating heart and bent to kiss her rosebud lips—I thanked God again for that one fucking minute.

  In those moments when I thought she was dead, I realized just how much I loved and needed Angel Lawson. I needed her in order to function, to eat, to sleep, to fucking breathe. When I thought I’d lost her, my world came tumbling down around me—body, heart, mind, and soul trapped in an avalanche of complete, soul-shattering destruction.

  And then she’d taken a breath.

  I’d been unable to speak or even move. I just remember the long, painful, piercing howl exploding through the silence, a sound that emanated from me.

  Her eyes had opened briefly, but had seemed devoid of awareness, just blank and unable to focus. Her body was limp and unresponsive, destitute of all sentience, and in that second a fresh wave of dread had passed through my ice-laden heart.

  Not capable of reacting, I’d watched as my parents wrapped her in the blanket, my mother rocking her and stroking her face. My father racing to meet the paramedics arriving, it seemed, from nowhere. Her body had begun to shake uncontrollably, her eyelids fluttering with disorientation, bluish lips trembling.

  In the hospital, she was wrapped in heated blankets, her motionless, sleeping body steadily replenished with IV fluids. And then all that was left to do was wait. Wait and hope and pray to a God I doubted even existed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  …Mommy smiled down at me and my heart thumped once against my chest, startling me. For some reason it felt different—warm and whole and mended.

  “Thank you, Mommy.” I smiled back up at her beautiful face, so happy to see her. I’d missed her so much.

  “What for, honey?”

  “For mending my heart. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It feels better.”

  She laughed. “Oh, that wasn’t me, Angel.”

  “Oh? Then who was it?”

  “It was Ethan. He mended it. You just needed me to reassure you that it was okay to feel it again.”

  My heart thumped again, sort of stumbled awkwardly in my chest, before settling into a faint but steady rhythm. It felt nice, like its presence suddenly freed me from an incessant ache, the weight I’d been carrying for… ever.

  Suddenly, the breeze gusted against my skin, bringing with it a soft, muffled resonance. I strained my ears to listen to what I thought, at first, was a soft musical hum. But as the sound became louder, I realized it was an anguished cry—a desolate, mournful keening.

  I heard his words, so filled with grief they were almost indiscernible. “Please don’t go, Angel. Please don’t leave me.”

  Suddenly, I was struck with an overwhelming yearning. My newly-healed heart was beating strong and steady, surrounded by a glowing heat that seemed to radiate from my chest. I placed my hand over it, trying to listen to what it was telling me, and suddenly it was clear. My heart was pining.

  Mommy’s footsteps faltered as she looked down at me, her expression warm with understanding. “What is it, Angel?”

  Looking off into the distance, I realized that the bright aura of light which had seemed so welcoming before, suddenly felt wrong. My eyes flicked up to look at Mommy, and slowly I lifted her fingers to my cheek, wanting to feel her skin against mine, commit her scent and every nuance of her to my memory. A solitary tear drizzled down my cheek and rolled gently into the seam of her clasped fingers.

  “What is it?” she repeated.

  “I want E, Mommy. He needs me. And I need him.”

  “I know.” Lowering to her knees, she folded me into her arms, an embrace that was brimming with love and affection and would stay in my heart and my memory forever. She kissed me gently on the tip of my nose, turned me around, and tapped me on the bottom. “Off you go then. Better hurry.”

  I ran off toward the doleful sound of crying, calling out to Mommy over my shoulder. “Thank you, Mommy. I love you.”

  “
And I love you, Angel.” The soft, tinkling notes of her voice dwindled on the wind. “I love you.”

  An unexpected gust of wind hit me full force, and I had the sudden sensation of being out of control, spiraling downwards in a violent vortex. Blurred images passed by me at speed, the narrow vacuum I’d been plunged into devoid of air and causing my lungs to burn viciously. Blood rushed through my body, invading every cell, every vein, and every organ—awakening me to a brand-new feeling of life. Oxygen was suddenly pumping into my lungs, my body sucking it in greedily as muffled noise and fuzzy images filtered into my senses. My body began to shudder violently, the tremors undulating through my overwhelmingly exhausted body, and suddenly there was nothing but black…

  Am I dead?

  The idea filled me with terror, but at the same time was devastatingly alluring.

  I could hear a voice—I think—distant and tinny, as if it were echoing off the surface of a dark, empty chamber. Then I realized I was trying to listen over the distraction of a steady drumming noise that seemed prominent in my audible awareness—the faint beating of my heart.

  Your heart doesn’t beat when you’re dead.

  The voice came again, and I desperately summoned all my energy, straining my ears to listen.

  “She’s mildly hypothermic, severely dehydrated. From what we can tell, she can’t have been in the water for more than three minutes. There doesn’t appear to be any lung damage, and as she was resuscitated at the scene, this significantly reduces the chances of brain damage, although we’ll know more when she wakes up.”

  Resuscitated?

  I felt a flutter of panic in my chest.

  If I’m not dead, then why is it so dark? And why won’t my body respond?

  The panic turned into fear. What if I was stuck between life and death? I shrank back into the darkest corners of the blackness. This wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to hear, don’t want to think. Where was my oblivion?

  Suddenly, I felt exhausted, beyond any kind of tiredness I’d experienced before. Thoughts and questions trickled through my mind like water through my fingers, too flimsy and intangible to be attainable. I was just too tired.

  With no choice but to succumb to the fatigue that pursued me, I allowed myself to fall—sinking back into the comfort of the darkness and the silence, oblivion closing around me and sucking me under once again.

  What’s that noise?

  The sobbing again. This time it was louder than the drumming of my heart, a shattered, dejected sound steeped in misery and anguish.

  Ethan.

  Now I remembered. I was on my way back to him. Mommy said it was okay to stay. Suddenly my heart bloomed with hope, daring me to see beyond the despair of before. Our love would defeat the demons, could conquer anything—we’d find a way. But I needed to find him. I tried to push my way through the darkness, fighting against the dense fog toward his voice. Then suddenly, I heard him speak.

  “Why won’t she wake up?” His tone was strained, broken, as though the words were scraping past an agonizing pain. I felt the pining feeling again, my insides clenching with yearning.

  Who’s he talking to?

  I tried to open my mouth to ask the question, but the words just wouldn’t evolve past a simple thought.

  “She’s just sleeping. She’s exhausted.” It was a woman’s voice, delicate and filled with the concern and affection of a mother. Veronica.

  I’m here, E. Come find me. Christ, why won’t the words come out?

  The darkness was overwhelming, suffocating. Why could I hear him, but couldn’t see him? Then a thought struck me. Closing around my heart like a sinister, malevolent shadow.

  What if this is Hell?

  What if I was stuck in a place where I could hear him, but could never be with him? Alone in this darkness with no way to comfort him.

  “How do you know?” Ethan’s panicked voice trickled into my fearful thoughts.

  “You heard what the doctor said. Her body’s endured a tremendous amount of suffering these past few days. She was probably in a fevered state when she entered the water. The lack of food and water, alongside the mental turmoil and excessive alcohol intake, has taken its toll on her. She needs to replenish her fluids, gain back her strength.”

  “You heard what else the doctor said as well though, right? He said in cases like this, the patient has to want to wake up. Her body may be healthy, but if her mind doesn’t fight…” His words crumbled into a sob.

  Ethan, I’m okay, I’m here.

  “Ethan, you have to believe in her. Her body is weakened and her defenses are down, but I’ll bet she’s still the strongest person you ever met. She just needs to rest. It’s only been a few hours. When she’s stronger, her body will convince her mind to wake. She’ll be back, Son. Try not to worry.”

  “But what if her mind doesn’t want her to return? When she fell asleep, her heart and soul were consumed by his lies. If she doesn’t know the truth, how will she find the will to wake up? What will I do then, Mom? How will I find the will to live without her?”

  “Then tell her, Ethan. Talk to her. If she can hear you, maybe knowing the truth will convince her to fight.”

  What truth? What lies? Tell me!”

  Hear me, goddamn it! Where the hell am I?

  The sobbing had stopped, replaced instead by a soft humming, a low musical sound—a melody. The darkness wasn’t as impenetrable as before, and I felt stronger, like my heart was glowing again.

  Ethan’s words filtered into my thoughts—the lies, the truth—my father’s lies. Was my mind playing tricks or had I really heard Ethan tell me my father had got it all wrong? I wasn’t a sinner, after all. My love for Ethan was real, strong—virtuous.

  Hm-mm-mm, hm-mm-mm-mm-mm. I knew the melody. It was from my latest Disney addiction: Frozen.

  My body felt stiff, my eyelids weighted, but I was certain I could muster the energy to move them. I needed to figure out where that tune was coming from. Slowly, I pushed through the murkiness of my mind, heading for the tiny sliver of light just beyond my reach. The brightness was overwhelming at first, hazy, white light which seemed to become more lucid as I blinked away the thick layer of fog.

  My gaze flitted from the ceiling tiles above my head and down white walls, taking in the sight and smell of a hospital room, all the time searching for the humming sound and…

  There he was. My E—my Prince Charming.

  Sitting in a chair beside me, forehead leaning across his forearm on the bed. His free hand trailed light whispery fingertips over the back of my hand, circling gently around the huge diamond ring that represented our love and commitment to each other. His tousled hair was more unkempt than usual, and I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it. But his soft humming was hypnotic and the first smile, since I can’t remember when, ghosted over my lips. He must have been listening on the countless occasions I’d watched the movie. I hadn’t realized.

  The melody was building to a crescendo as he hummed the final chorus. I swallowed and although my mouth felt dry as sand, I parted my lips, the last line of the song scraping through on a husky voice.

  “The cold never bothered me anyway.”

  Ethan’s head snapped up to look at me. His bloodshot eyes brimming with emotion, propped open only by the bolstering dark circles underneath them. His jaw was covered in days’ worth of stubble, and he was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

  “Baby! You came back.” His words stumbled over a cacophony of muddled emotions, thoughts and unspoken words playing across his eyes and lips.

  Shifting my gaze, I glanced around the room, realization of where I was and what had happened steadily percolating through the remnants of the mist in my brain. My body felt heavy—drained—and my head ached. The IV line attached to my right hand made me wince at the sight of it. I hated needles. My first thought was: How much of what I’d heard was real, and how much had been conjured with futile hope by my delusional mind?

&nb
sp; “Angel?” A shadow had drifted over his face, his expression becoming suddenly grave with worry.

  Fear gripped me, my eyes searching his as his searched mine, both of us waiting for the other.

  “Did you find Sloane?” I don’t know where the words came from, or the angry tone at which I spoke them with. But later, I would realize, that in my fear, I was erasing everything that had happened in the hours and days since I’d seen him last. Everything that was potentially, irreparably destructive. I waited for him to speak, the huge gulp of breath I was desperate but too afraid to take lingering at the edge of my lips.

  Confusion marred his features, no doubt wondering if I was suffering with memory loss. “No.”

  I could sense his gaze reaching into my mind, trying to grasp tiny fragments of clues that might help him to understand where or how to take this conversation forward. And then the light in his eyes came on, his unique, intrinsic ability to read my thoughts enabling him to penetrate the protective barrier I’d built without even knowing.

  “Baby… What your dad told you…” His worried eyes watched the tear fall from the corner of my eye and trickle down my stricken face. He took a breath and shook his head. “I’m not… We are not... Angel, it was all lies.”

  I inhaled the breath I’d been withholding, the floodgates opening as my body began to quake with cathartic sobs. And then Ethan was pulling me into his protective arms and folding me into his endless love—the only place I would ever want to be.

  We stayed like that for an age, Ethan soothing me with whispered reassurances, his hands gently stroking my hair and back. Eventually, the nurse had insisted on checking me over, before being shooed back out of the room so he could be alone with me.

  We talked, or Ethan did, relaying the details of what had happened when he and his parents had confronted my dad. He told me about the note and how it might have been open to misinterpretation—especially by an unstable man already consumed with unreasonable jealousy. He told me how they’d found me, how the minutes had been precious, and how he’d saved me from the jaws of Hell with only seconds to spare.