The Sorrow

by Azhar Amien

Epilogue: Three Years Later

  I awoke. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds. A warmth had spread throughout the room. I heard the sound of birds outside. I rubbed my face. There had been no nightmare. I glanced up into the mirror. I looked an aged man. Maybe the beard was not working for me. I dressed and proceeded with the morning preparations; a mechanical process. I walked out into the kitchen and saw breakfast already made. Orange juice, pancakes and sunny side up eggs on toast. I smiled. My idea of a perfect meal. I moved towards the front door, opened it and shielded my eyes from the bright morning sun. I retrieved the mail from the letter box. I browsed through. There was nothing that required my attention. I felt a pang of sadness. It had been such a long time since I had last heard from her. But that time was gone. Another part of my life that I had had to bury. I entered my home again and closed the door behind me. I walked past the table and back into the darkness of my room. I felt unusually sad. I did not know why. I sat down on my bed with a sigh. I moved over to the bedside table and picked up my wallet. I started to reach for the picture that I knew was inside. My hand stopped. I hesitated. The ache was still there. I dropped the wallet.

  It had been three years, and I couldn’t even remember my wife’s face anymore. I knew that I had loved her with all that I had had to give. I remembered what she was like. Her mannerisms, her words and her personality. I would never forget the way that she had made me feel. I could not. Yet she was a phantom; a ghost of a time long gone. A different life. All my life I had loved her. There had been no one else. What cruel God would condemn me to forget her face in the end? I knew that I had the picture in my wallet. I could look upon it and I would remember again. But I did not have the courage to do it. Would it bring back the pain? Would I feel anything at all? Would I fall apart? No. I was fooling myself. I knew the truth. I was not afraid of the sorrow. I was afraid of something worse. The hardest thing I could be asked to do.

  I was afraid of letting go.

  Was three years really enough time to get over someone? To get over the love of your life? It could not be. The years had gone by so quickly. If it took a lifetime to build an eternal love, then surely it took another lifetime to let it go? I missed her. God knew that I did. But lately I had been coping. I had been facing each new day without the pain. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Some days it brought guilt, and others it brought relief. I had only one comfort in my life to that pain.

  Nicole was dead. But it was alright. I had my little girl.

  There was a knock on my door. I looked up.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes honey?”

  Jess entered my room wearing a pale pink dress. She had grown so fast. She was just twelve years old now, but she was already an adult. She surprised me every day. I smiled at her with love. It was because of her that I had made it.

  “Can we visit mom today?”

  I forced my smile to remain.

  “Sure baby. We can go now if you’d like.”

  In minutes I was driving our car down the field. It was old and crummy, but Jess loved it. She loved driving down the countryside. She loved nature’s beauty. Just like her mother. I looked across at her in the passenger seat. She held a bunch of flowers in her hands. Handpicked. White roses. I smiled. They were Nicole’s favourite.

  “I love you, princess,” I said, rubbing her cheek.

  “Dad, I told you to stop calling me that,” she giggled, pulling a face.

  “What? You love it!”

  “I tolerate it,” she grinned.

  “Whatever, I like it,” I laughed.

  She jumped over and kissed my cheek.

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  Soon we had parked the car on the side of the road, and I walked with my daughter over the beautiful grass. She held my waist and marvelled at the trees. I smiled. I had the daughter I loved back. It had taken a long time. It had taken the years for her to no longer wake up screaming from nightmares, and crying from something she had seen but would not tell me about. It had taken the years for her to no longer want to know the truth about what I had done. It had taken the years for her to no longer want to learn to wield a firearm. It had taken the years for her to accept that she was safe, and that one day she would not be forced to commit murder to protect herself or even me. She was only a child. I did my best for her every day, with everything that I had to give. And lately I could at last see the daughter I had always loved. I had my Jess again. Her smile gave me strength more than anything else.

  She had only told me a little about what she had been through with Desmond and Hale. But I had found a way to be okay with that, because they had been really good to her. She had even said that they had grown fond of her, yet I found that difficult to believe. I was grateful. I could not even fathom how much. I had only ever had one chance to thank them, and I was glad that I had taken it. It had been before they had left. They had brought me to this place, and had given me the chance to start a new life. They had helped me and Jess to acquire new identities. They had not told me the specifics of how they were able to pull it off. They had always been vague. They had simply said that they had to be prepared for every contingency, and the networks they had built over the years had all been illegal. Black market and off the grid. I guessed that I never really cared how they had done it. We had made it. It was all that had mattered. But I could not lie. I did feel sadness. Desmond and Hale had played such significant roles in allowing me to have a life with my daughter. And yet, once they had given me what I had needed to live, they had vanished and I had never seen them again. They had only told me that they were disappearing the same as me. That between the three of us we had earned our retirement. That had been three years ago.

  Jess sometimes told me that she missed them. I had accepted that.

  I kissed the top of her head, returning my attention to our task at hand. We had found a wonderful place by a pond that we knew Nicole would have adored. Jess had insisted that we made some sort of memorial, just for us, for Nicole. I had done it for her. And I had visited it for her all the years. We emerged into the familiar clearing, and Jess let go of me. She sat down in front of the small memorial stone we had placed, and set the white roses to rest upon the grave.

  “Do you still miss her daddy?”

  “Every day, baby.”

  She looked down at the wedding ring on my hand. I still wore it. I had never taken it off. I could not tell what she was thinking. She had hardly said anything about it for three years.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes sweetheart?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  I sat down next to her.

  “About?”

  “We’ve been coming here a lot, and every time I keep hoping to myself that today would be the day you’re ready. But every time I go home disappointed, Dad.”

  I frowned, “What do you mean? I thought you liked visiting your mom.”

  “Of course I do. But that’s not it.”

  “Then?” I said, putting my arm around her, “You can speak your mind, baby.”

  She looked into my eyes then. I knew my daughter. I knew that she would mean the next words she spoke with the utmost sincerity.

  “I think it’s time for you to move on, Dad. Mom would want you to be happy.”

  I looked down at the ground.

  “Dad?”

  “I don’t know how, Jess.”

  I forced myself to look back at her, into her beautiful eyes. And for the first time since Nicole’s passing, I did not see pity. I did not see someone completely out of their depth about what I felt. I saw only love. I knew then. She understood.

  “Dad, for a while I might have felt the same. I probably would have resented you for moving on from her. But I was little. I didn’t understand. But being with you these years...you know I love you Dad, so much, but you’re not living. I don’t want you to be like this anymore.”

  She started to cry.

  “I don’t wa
nt you to be alone! I can’t handle it.”

  “Oh no, Jess, don’t cry,” I said, holding her tightly to me and kissing her gently.

  She tried to contain her sobs.

  “Daddy’s not alone. I have you, sweetie. You make me happy,” I said.

  She gave me a small laugh, “Don’t do that, Dad. You know what I mean.”

  I smiled.

  “I do, princess.”

  “I just want you to be happy. I know that you say you are, but Dad I know that’s just to make me feel better. I see you get lonely. I see you get sad. You haven’t moved on from mom.”

  What could I say? My daughter was right. I could only hold her and listen. She was so grown up. She understood what I felt. I know she wanted the best for me. It was just so hard. We sat for a while after that and just enjoyed the sun. Jess laughed and giggled as I told her stories about her mother. I told her how we had met, and we joked about her idiosyncrasies. I told her stories about when she had been a baby and how Nicole and I had been so overprotective as parents, afraid of the slightest noise. We just reminisced, and it dulled the ache in my chest. Eventually it was time to leave. I felt lighter, unlike any other time I had come. Jess and I were pleasantly quiet during the drive.

  When we got back home I put the breakfast Jess had made into the microwave, and then we ate together. She told me that she wanted to go horse riding with her friend Merissa, who stayed close by. I said it was alright, as long as she obeyed our rules. She rolled her eyes and called me a dweeb. My rules were simple enough. She carried a mobile phone at all times. Every few hours I expected a message. If any plans changed I expected a call. And lastly, I did not allow her to use social networks. I wished that I could have labelled it as parent paranoia, but it was not that. I could not chance that anyone would recognise her. Three years may have passed, but I was not going to take the risk for an unnecessary website like Facebook or MySpace. The smart girl had insisted on Twitter though, and had eventually got me to agree provided she would not use her own picture as her profile mug shot or avatar or whatever it was called. She had definitely outwitted me on that argument.

  I smiled. She challenged me, and I liked it. She was never rude. She just always made me smile, and taught me to see things in new ways. I loved her with everything that I had. She had made me whole again. I waved her goodbye and gave her some money as she charged out of the house with enthusiasm. She loved horses. As did her partner in crime. Merissa was a sweet girl. She was someone I was happy for Jess to be around. I was so happy she had a friend. The two of them had hit it off really quickly and got along so well. I had got to know her parents too. They were great. Like me, they tried to teach good values to their child. They were at least friendly faces. I was alright with Jess walking around in our new home. It had taken me a long time to give her that freedom. It was a really safe area, and was like a small community. I knew that it was what she needed in her life right now. She needed our home. I thought about myself then. I would not admit to her that it was when she was gone that I felt the ache. The pain of loneliness.

  And it took my mind back to Sarah.

  After we had begun our new lives I had written a letter to her. I had explained everything that I had done. I had told her the truth. And I had sent her a picture of Jess holding the present day newspaper. I felt that both of us deserved that closure. I thanked her for the part she had played in my life. I thanked her for all that she had done for me. Initially she had not replied. I had supplied her with a way to contact me in the letter, but it had been nothing incriminating as I had been far too paranoid of the letter not reaching her or falling into the wrong hands. And I had waited, growing increasingly more upset with each day. I needed the closure. I needed to know that she did not hate me. But I also knew that she must have been dealing with her own pain, and the mess that I had left her with. I had read online that she had left the police, citing personal reasons. That had hurt me greatly. It had been her life. And I could not imagine her doing anything else.

  She eventually had reached out to me. It had taken days and days. She had told me that she was sorry that she had doubted me. That she did not have the words to explain how she felt. I had realised too late that it had been asking for the impossible by expecting her to convey her feelings about it in a letter. She had simply said that it was wonderful I had found Jess. I had glimpsed faint smudges on the page, and the smallest hint of dark spots. I guessed that she had been crying while writing the letter, and I could not imagine how she must have felt. But she had said more in the letter as well. She had also told me that she was heartbroken and she needed to move on with her life, and get back what she had lost.

  I had understood. I remembered what I had told Teresa Brooks three years ago. Not everyone gets a happy ending. Neither of us had - not with each other. But it was alright. I was grateful knowing that she was going to be fine. There was always the possibility that one day we would see each other again. But I didn’t think so. We had kept loosely in touch over the years, but eventually I came to discover that she had met someone and was planning to settle down. I could not even comprehend that, but I had to hit myself to remember that she had been married once before. She had told me over a year ago that she was happy, and she felt it was time we went on with our own lives. After that we did not speak again. In a way that had made me a little sad, but I came to realise over the last few years that a lot of life was about letting go of the past. I smiled to myself. I was still trying to figure out how to do that.

  I thought about the city I had left behind then. Sarah had told me during our conversations that the people still spoke about me. I was the subject of a never-ending debate. Depending on who you asked I was a cult hero, a saviour, a hated murderer or a psychopath. I had somehow saved the city, but the great contradiction was that I was its big villain. I doubted that I had truly saved it from anything. That place was tainted, and it would take a long time to clean out all the filth. But perhaps the police would finally be able to make a difference with the mob having been reduced to a manageable threat. I had long stopped paying attention to it. I no longer cared about that awful place. I could breathe again having left it behind. Its fate was its own.

  I stretched. The day was still young. Maybe I would go fishing. I had never tried it before. But I had been running my mouth to Jess over the past few months telling her that I would get to it. She had insisted that I wouldn’t, because I didn’t really try new things. But she had kept reminding me and encouraging me nonetheless. For some reason she liked that particular image of me. On most days I had free though, I went for walks. I talked to people. I tried to just feel like a person again. And each day it had got a little easier. I had never thought that I would have been able to come back from what I had done. But Jess had been my inspiration. She had reminded me that we were capable of picking ourselves up again from even the darkest of places. She had helped me get to where I was. I owed her my life.

  It had not been easy. At times I could not believe that we had made it at all. The first year had been unbearably difficult. The hardest part had been the first few weeks when she had been really sick. That was how I had first met Merissa’s parents, Jason and Angela. They had helped me nurse her back to health. They had been kind to us. Angela was really good at taking care of people. But after that I had been left to face the uncontrollable panic each night, fearing that Jess would be taken away from me again. That I would lose her. That took a long time to go away. It took a long time for the demons to disappear, and the horrors of what I’d done to no longer rule me. In the end Jess and I had made it. We had held on, and we had fought like hell to make it. We deserved it.

  I suddenly heard screaming and shouting.

  Without thinking I ripped open my bedside drawer and pulled out my Beretta. I knew that it was loaded. I cocked it and bolted off my bed as I ran to the kitchen to look out of the window, unable to quell my rising fears. My heart hammered against my chest.

&
nbsp; What I saw took my breath away.

  Jess and Merissa were screaming in delight, the way you’d expect young girls to, as they rode beautiful horses across the field. They were being watched by an instructor and Merissa’s parents, who stood arm in arm grinning widely. Angela saw me then, and excitedly waved me over to join them. I slowly placed my Beretta onto one of the shelves above, relieved to be relinquished of the weapon. My heartbeat calmed.

  I smiled.

  And then I felt it, deep within my heart.

  Hope.

  Three years were swept away in a gentle breeze; a sudden euphoria.

  I saw my beautiful daughter full of laughter and smiles. I saw the happiness on her face. I saw my little girl, and I saw the life she had ahead of her. Jess had been right. It was time to move on from all the pain. She had done it. It was up to me. It was my choice to make. I looked at my hand, and my eyes found the remains of my agony.

  I slowly removed my wedding ring, and gently kissed it.

  Goodbye, my love. You’ll always be in my heart.

  The silent farewell at last gave me the closure I had never thought I would have. I set the ring down on the counter to rest. It barely even hit me. All these years. And it had been so quick in the end. I did not even take a moment to realise the gravity of what I’d done.

  I just no longer wanted the burden.

  I no longer wanted the sorrow.

  I grinned and walked out into the sunlight to laugh with my little girl.

  And I knew.

  It would be a good life.

  ###

  Thank you for reading The Sorrow, I appreciate it enormously! If you enjoyed it or if you have feedback of any kind, I would absolutely love to hear from you. Please get in touch!

  Connect With Me:

  Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Tody_ZA

  Friend me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/azhar.amien

  Check out my blog: https://darklywritten.com/

  Drop a review on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20820947-the-sorrow