Forever We Fall

by Chloe Walsh

“Jesus, I’m in big trouble.” Leaning across the seat, Kyle used his hand to tug my chin up to meet his face and when our lips brushed, I sighed in absolute contentment and then I full on yawned . . . into his mouth.

  “Boring you, am I?” Kyle teased as he pulled back and smiled at me. “Or were you intentionally trying to suck the air from my lungs?”

  “Sorry,” I snickered. “And neither. I’m just happy.”

  “I’ll just get Derek and Karen,” he chuckled. “And then I’ll take your happy little ass out to buy all the necessary protective gear to keep me alive for the next few months.”

  Kyle started to climb out of the car, but I stopped him. “I’ll get them.”

  His brow rose in surprise. “You sure you want to go back in there? You’re positive?”

  “As my last pregnancy test,” I replied with a smirk. Kyle’s cocky grin made a reappearance as he nodded at the sonogram on the dashboard.

  Climbing out of the car, I strolled up the porch steps. Thoughts of my father flooded my mind, but I fought back against the guilt and walked forward. I pushed the sorrow away from my heart. I embraced our new reality. We were here in the now. Together. I had nothing to feel sad about. Cam’s face entered my head and I smiled because it wasn’t the god-awful image of her lying on the kitchen floor that had tormented the last year of my life. She was smiling at me. She was happy, at peace . . . My sister . . .

  Loud voices were the first thing I was met with when I opened the front door and I found myself closing out the door quickly. “What’s up, baby?” Kyle called out from the car.

  “I think they’re doing it,” I hissed quietly, my eyes bugling when I heard Karen scream out the word finally.

  “What?” he shouted louder.

  “S.E.X,” I mouthed and pointed my thumb in the direction of the front door.

  Shaking his head, Kyle climbed out and walked around to the front of the car. He leaned his hip against the hood, shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush like that.” He crooked a finger at me. “Come on down here, princess, and I’ll give you a reason to blush.”

  I stood on the porch steps, grinning like an idiot, reveling in the ecstatic happiness I was feeling.

  My smile faltered when I noticed the dark shadow of a man approaching my husband from behind. His face came into my vision and I blanched. The sharp blade of sliver he held in his hand caused my heart to pump violently and my feet to move quicker than my brain could process what was happening.

  Perry moved so fast, lunged at Kyle’s back with such speed, that I knew I was too late when I flung my hands in the air and screamed, “Kyle, get out of the way!”

  Kyle’s smile faltered, his brow creased, first in confusion and then in pain, as his hand reached up to clutch his neck. His eyes locked on mine and the fear I saw in those blue depths almost paralyzed me. He moved his hand from his neck, shock encompassing his features as he stared blankly at the blood dripping from his fingers.

  His eyes landed on mine once more and I could see the tears pooling in them, the pain-stricken awareness in his blue eyes, as he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” before dropping to his knees.

  “Kyle,” I screamed, rushing down the steps towards him on weakened knees. “Help me. Please . . . oh god, somebody help me . . .” Tripping over the last step, I landed on my hands and knees and crawled over to where my husband lay crumpled on the ground.

  His eyelids fluttered rapidly, his legs twitched, his body shuddered violently. Blood gushed from his neck, seeping onto my clothing, coloring me red. “Prin . . . cess.” He gasped for air as he reached up and cupped my cheek. His hand was trembling so much it shook my head. “Don’t . . . cry . . .”

  “Don’t leave me,” I begged, clenching my eyes shut, feeling them burn from the pressure of keeping my tears on the inside. This wasn’t the time for falling apart because Kyle wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. It was not happening. Not after everything we’d been through. We were always breaking. Falling apart. ‘Forever we fall’ . . .

  The unwelcome thought penetrated my mind and I quickly batted it away. We would not fall today. No more Pain. “Keep breathing, baby,” I sobbed as I pressed my hand to his neck and put pressure on the wound his blood was seeping from.

  He flinched, groaning in agony, but I didn’t remove my hand. I pressed harder against the deep laceration in his neck, holding his skin together, stemming the flow of blood with my hand, praying I could fix his broken pieces. Somehow heal him.

  This can’t be happening.

  This can’t be happening.

  The frantic throbbing pain in my chest was becoming unbearable and I used my free hand to clutch at my clothing, pulling it away from my chest so I could breathe. I didn’t help. ‘Please keep his heart beating, keep his lungs filling, keep his soul inside of his body,’ my silent plea reverberated inside of my mind, tormenting me until the hysteria festering inside of my brain bubbled to the surface and I cracked.

  “Oh god . . .” I felt a gush of warmth and wetness ooze between my fingers and I applied more pressure to the hand I had pressed against Kyle’s neck.

  The knife smeared with Kyle’s blood lay on the ground by my feet and I kicked it away quickly. “Why him?” I screamed, the words tearing from my throat, exposing my agony.

  I stared in confusion and despair at Perry’s retreating frame as I held Kyle’s body in my arms. “Why him?” Why not me?

  Perry didn’t answer me.

  He merely shook his head and he backed away slowly as if in a trance. I saw something in his eyes then, something that resembled regret, but it was too late . . .

  “Lee . . .” I felt something cold–something freezing cold–touch my chest. Kyle’s hand, I realized and panic spread through my body. “Shh . . . baby . . . I got you.”

  “Don’t talk, baby,” I begged as I cradled his head to my chest. “Keep breathing, Kyle. Please just keep breathing . . .”

  “I’m . . . not . . .” he paused, gasping for air. Grabbing the back of my neck, he dragged my face to his. “Not . . . leaving you . . . not now . . . not ever.”

  “Jesus Christ, Kyle,” a familiar male voice howled in distress, followed by a woman’s piercing scream.

  “You bastard.” I heard Derek’s battle cry moments before he charged past us, chasing after Perry, who was now running down the street.

  I could hear Karen’s voice coming from somewhere behind me as she spoke about ambulances and hurrying, but I couldn’t turn around to check.

  The sound of sniffling alerted me to the fact that someone was kneeling on the ground beside me, sobbing quietly, stroking my arm–a gesture of comfort–but still I couldn’t check.

  I couldn’t do anything but keep my eyes on my husband and my fingers on his neck. I felt the air being squeezed from my lungs. The fear choking me. Burning me. I tried to catch my breath, to keep calm, but nothing happened.

  “Hold on, Kyle,” I wept, as I brushed his hair back from his face. “Hold on, baby.” I kissed his hair and rocked him in my arms. “There’s an ambulance coming.”

  “Lay him on his back, Lee,” a voice coming from my left said and I shook my head, protesting vehemently.

  “You need to lay him on his back,” the voice persisted. “He’s gonna bleed out if you keep jolting him.”

  A tsunami of guilt washed over my body as the awareness that I was doing more harm than good tore at my heart. Maneuvering Kyle as gently as I could, I kept my hand on his neck and placed him on his back.

  “Shh,” I whispered soothingly when I heard his weak mumbling protest. Hovering over his big beautiful body, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not leaving you either,” I vowed, my free hand finding his. “Ever. I’m right here.”

  “Sing for me,” Kyle whispered as his body shook and his eyes rolled back in his head. Exhaling roughly, he flinched in pain and squeezed my hand. “Please, baby . . .” He hel
d onto my hand with an almost frantic grip. “I need you to distract me . . .” He groaned and kicked his legs out as he forced himself to drag air into his lungs. “Keep me . . . with you.”

  I looked through tear-filled eyes at my husband as the first line of the first song he ever sang me fell into my mind and poured out of my mouth. “I’ve been loving you a long time.” I allowed my tears to flow freely as I covered his body with mine and half-cried-half-sang the lyrics of A Rainy Day in Soho by The Pogues.

  Kyle’s trembling hand clutched at my cheek, the other held onto my hand for dear life, and I poured my heart into the words I was whispering into his ear. I could smell his fear. My fear. It was pungent.

  Dread was strangling my heart and every word that came from my throat was torn, cut, and a silent prayer to god, to anyone who could hear me, to take this fear and dread away.

  Raising our joined hands to his face, I wiped the tears from his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

  The sound of a siren approaching caused me to cry out in relief. “I. . . I can’t remember the words,” I cried out franticly, my mind emptying as a state of blind panic set in. “I can’t remember the words, Kyle.”

  “Yes . . . you can.” He forced a small smile as he writhed on the ground, gasping–fighting–desperately for air. “Finish it.”

  Forcing myself to keep my eyes opened and focused on his, I forced the words out through my quivering lips.

  “You’re the measure of my dreams, Lee Bennett,” he whispered before his blue eyes fluttered closed.

  His body stilled, his grip on my hand went slack, and when I screamed out I barely recognized the feral noise ripping from my throat.

  “Wake up,” I whimpered, shaking his motionless body. “Kyle, please,” I begged.

  Cupping his face with my free hand, I bent down and kissed his ice-cold lips. “Please, come back to me.” I felt hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from him, but I shrugged free and crawled back to him. “Stay with me.” My voice was rising to a high-pitched scream, but I couldn’t focus on that. “There’s no me without you,” I bawled.

  “Calm her down,” a harsh voice demanded. “Get her out of the way now.”

  A pair of strong hands clamped down on my shoulders and I was dragged away from Kyle’s body kicking and screaming. I futilely fought every step I was taken further from my husband, and when I heard Derek’s voice in my ear, begging me to calm down, to think of the baby, that if I didn’t calm down they were going to sedate me, it did nothing to ease the blackened, poisoned hatred that had taken up residence in my heart.

  “He’s going into cardiac arrest,” I heard someone shout in the distance, and it was in that exact moment I felt myself, my sanity, slip away from me.

  Gone. Blank. Empty.

  Something of great significance had separated from me. I had lost my mind.

  “Keep it clamped . . . keep it covered . . . got it . . .”

  The high-pitched keening noises that were scaring me were coming from my own throat, I knew this, but not even my hands on my mouth could make it stop—make me stop. I couldn’t stop this. They were wrong. This was all wrong.

  I concentrated on the voices, knowing something terrible was happening, but for the life of me I couldn’t make my mind remember . . .

  “Clear.”

  Bang.

  “Nothing.”

  Screaming.

  “Clear.”

  Bang.

  “Nothing. Dammit, come on, kid.”

  Wailing.

  “Call it?”

  No, no, no . . .

  “One more time.”

  Thank god . . .

  “Clear.”

  Bang.

  “Nothing.”

  Heavy sighs.

  “Call it.”

  Quiet murmurs.

  “Time of d . . .”

  “NO.” My mind kick started in a panic and I lunged towards the crowd of people gathered in a circle, blocking me, keeping me from where I needed to be. From who I needed to be with. “Don’t you dare give up.”

  Derek’s arms around my body gave me no comfort and I scratched, bit and tore at his flesh as I tried to fight my way back to Kyle.

  “Let me go.” I screamed hysterically, struggling against his hold. “You don’t understand,” I roared. “He’s afraid. He’s scared of being on his own. I promised him. I promised I wouldn’t leave him.” I shook my head and tried to break free. “He’s fine,” I screamed so hard my voice cracked. “He was happy. Happy. We’re having triplets . . .” My voice broke and I clawed at my stomach. “He’s so happy. We’re going shopping later. Picking you up first . . . the babies. He’s happy. Don’t make me leave him.”

  Drawing on all my strength, I threw my head backwards and thrashed my body in a desperate bid to free myself from his hold. “Derek, get your hands off me . . .”

  “Please stop, Lee . . .” Derek begged. His voice broke and I flinched, digging my fingers into his arms, breaking the skin. “He’s . . . gone sweetheart. Kyle’s . . .” he choked on his words, crying hard and ugly. “He’s dead.”

  “No,” I roared, shaking my head. My vision blurred, my legs gave in and I fell to the ground vomiting. “He’s not dead,” I spat. “You’re a liar. He’s Kyle Carter. He can’t die.”

  On my hands and knees, I tried to scramble back to Kyle, but Derek caught me again. “Don’t touch me,” I screamed, kicking out at him, but Derek didn’t listen.

  Pulling me into his arms, he rocked me gently as another man hovered over me. My whole body stiffened. I felt the sharp sting of a needle piercing my neck and everything became blurry, light, with the exception of my heart. The darkness was looming, waiting for me to embrace it, to take the easy way out, but I knew I had to push back.

  “Kyle,” I whimpered, shaking my head to clear my mind. “Kyle . . .” I fought against the cloudy darkness trying to drag me under. Trying to take me away from Kyle.

  Taking me where? I blinked and stared blankly at my hands. Why am I bleeding?

  “Shh.” Someone kissed my head. “I’m here.” Someone held my tighter. It wasn’t Kyle. “I’m gonna take care of you,” I heard someone vow. Someone familiar. “I won’t leave you on your own, ice. I promise.”

  “You’re silly,” I mumbled groggily. “Silly Derek.”

  “I found Perry,” I heard Derek whisper in my ear and I stilled.

  “He’s dead, Lee,” Derek continued as he rocked me back and forth. “He paid.”

  He’s dead, Lee.

  He’s dead, Lee.

  He’s gone, sweetheart.

  He’s dead, Lee.

  He paid.

  “Who’s dead?” I mumbled drowsily. “Where’s Kyle?”

  My vision failed me, my body betrayed my hearts plea to fight, and I gave in to the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and sleep.

  “We’ve got a pulse,” was the last thing I heard before the darkness possessed me once more.

  When I was little, I never dreamed about the things other children dreamed about. I knew fairy tales were exactly that; fairy tales. Pretend. Make believe. Lies. There would be no knight-in-shining-armor that would ride into my world on his white horse and rescue me. I made peace with that at a young age. I accepted the hand I’d been dealt.

  But then something extraordinary happened to me.

  Something much better than a knight with a white horse.

  When I was eighteen years old I ran away from home and straight into the arms of a hot-tempered, complicated, beautifully broken man. I fell in love with that broken man and he changed my world. He altered my mindset. I became a different person with him. He broke down my walls and picked up the pieces of my shattered childhood. He put me on a pedestal. He played me like a yo-yo. He made me feel safe . . . and then he snatched it all away. And then, when my whole world fell to pieces, he waded in and saved me. Put me back together again.

  He was my he
ro. He was my heartache.

  He was my best friend. He was my most frustrating antagonist.

  He was my biggest doubt and my truest conviction.

  He was my start, middle and end.

  I was bound to him.

  In life and in death.

  Forever and Always.

  When I was little, I never knew one person could feel the pain I have felt.

  When I was little, I never knew one person could feel the love I have felt . . .

  “Mom!” The front door slammed loudly, causing me to jump, and I quickly closed the journal I’d been writing all my feelings and memories in for the past few years before stashing it away in a cupboard filled with cleaning sprays. The cleaning cupboard was the perfect hiding place in this house because, let’s face it, I was the only one who ever opened the door . . .

  “It’s over,” Hope announced in a shrill tone as she stormed into the kitchen, threw her schoolbag on the table, and began to pace the floor in frustration. “He broke up with me, said he needs space,” she hissed, her voice laced with disgust. “Said he’d call me.” Hope unwound a white chunky knit scarf from her neck before dropping it on the table, along with her matching hat and blood red coat. “They broke him down, mom. I know they did.” Her almost-black hair fell in lush curls to the middle of her back, her cheeks were stained pink from—what I hoped was—the cold, her sapphire-blue eyes bulged in her oval shaped face, and her thinly shaped eyebrows were set in a deep frown, letting me know that she was mad. Burning mad.

  Oh boy . . .

  “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” I asked, feeling incredibly confused.

  “He loves me. Jordan loves me, mom. I know he does,” she declared fervently.

  “I know he does, sweetheart,” I agreed. Hope didn’t need to make a believer out of me. She was preaching to the converted. Jordan Porter had been in love with my daughter since as far back as I could remember, and I thought—and I was the only one who thought this—they made a wonderful couple. “He’s a lovely boy.”

  “You know whose fault this is, don’t you?” she ranted, chest heaving, ignoring my question. “Who’s responsible for ruining my life?” She bit into her glove as she ripped it from her hand. “He finally scared him off,” she puffed as she dragged the other glove off. “And now I’m living in hell. In. Hell. Mom.”