“Tell me about your relationships with the members of your family.”
“Sometimes strained, but mostly good, just like everyone else in the world,” I muttered.
“You didn’t say anything about your father.”
“I don’t have a father.”
“As in you do not know who he is?” he questioned, crossing his legs.
“No. I know who the sperm donor was.”
“Was? Is he deceased? Or just not in the picture?”
Images of putting a bullet between Roger’s eyes flashed through my mind. I did my best to suppress the shudder. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. How about we talk about your relationship with your mother.”
“How about we are done for the day,” I suggested. PJ sat forward in the chair. “I need some rest. If you haven’t heard already, I’m having a procedure done today.”
“Right. Maybe you will be in the mood for a chat next time we see each other.”
“Doubtful.”
He stood and walked toward the door. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder before placing his finger on the print reader. “Good luck with your procedure today, Luke. I hope it goes well.”
I rolled to my side, my back to him. The seal to the room broke and the door opened, then closed again.
“Thank fuck,” I whispered.
I lay in bed for a good hour-and-a-half before Erik, Michelle, and Dr. Barter came in to begin the harvesting. When the doctor gave me a sedative, I went out like a light.
Chapter 3
-Gamebridge, New York-
The fatigue felt overwhelming, but sleep didn’t come easily for Anne. The dark circles and dull, lifeless eyes were proof. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking—all she could do since Henry’s death.
Remorse.
She had failed her son, bringing him into this world with that man…that piece of shit…that abuser. She clenched her fists and let out a grumble of frustration. This was not what she wanted for her beautiful baby.
A life wasted, unable to reclaim.
Roger forced her to go through labor in her small cottage. Laughed when she cried out in pain. Scolded her and the newborn, calling them whiny, insignificant, worthless.
He would phase in and out between kindness and pure evil. The kind side of him allowed her to rest after delivery, but the evil side made her get up minutes later and fix him a meal, regardless of the pain and blood dripping down her legs.
As the years passed, the evil took over, especially when he made them move into his flat in London, locking them inside.
She swiped at the tears running down her face.
In her mind, Henry could take his passion and pigheadedness and move mountains. He persevered through so much, but he was lost. All because of his father’s inexcusable actions.
She tried to get away from him. Her poor baby was a victim of circumstances, which she felt were all brought on by her choices.
She couldn’t hide them well enough.
She couldn’t stash away enough money to leave the country.
She couldn’t release the fear binding her to the man she thought once loved her with all his heart.
Anne scrubbed her face with her thin, bony hands, feeling empty and lost.
“Why, Anne?” she whimpered. “How could you do this to your own son?” She dropped her hands to her sides and continued to stare at the ceiling.
Closing her eyes as more guilt lay heavily upon her chest, she wondered if she would’ve just done everything Roger ordered, maybe they would have never been in this horrid situation, losing the one thing that gave her life any meaning at all.
Lifting her wrist, she glanced at her watch, then sighed. She could grieve at another time. For now, it was time to get the day going, making it as normal as possible for Nicky, her grandson.
Waking in the darkness, Elaina groaned and rolled to her side. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked the time. Seven forty-five. She tossed it back onto the table, listening to the thud as it landed.
For a brief moment, she wondered if Henry’s suicide was just a vivid nightmare. Throwing her arm out to his side of the bed, hoping to find him, all she felt were a cold pillow and his journal.
Henry was gone forever.
Alone.
Dark.
Gut-wrenching sadness.
It all spoke of her truth.
Tears welled and flowed, an unstoppable river surging, taking control over everything in her life. She choked as more sobs poured out, her heart hurting so badly, she thought her chest would crack wide open.
Would it be so terrible if it did? Then she could be with the love of her life. The man so mentally messed up, you never knew which Henry you would get from one hour to the next. There were so many versions of him, blinded and divided by tragedy, it was no wonder he behaved erratically.
Elaina swiped at her tears, fearing it would be an endless battle between her sorrow and helplessness. Not to mention the fear she felt about having to face the everyday ugly world.
The apologies, the hugs, the words of sympathy she’d rather not hear. No one would understand how much of her life left with him.
The door creaked as it opened. The dark sanctuary disappeared with the unwelcome morning light pouring in from the hallway. Elaina groaned, feeling as if it assaulted her already battered body. She slapped her hand over her eyes in an attempt to block it out.
Fearful of disturbing her, Anne stepped into the room and whispered, “Elaina?”
“No…,” she whispered back.
“Nicky is up and—”
“I said no!” Elaina roared. “Go away and leave me be!” She snatched one of the pillows and threw it across the room toward Anne.
“You can’t stay in bed all day. Nicky needs you.”
“I can, and I will.”
“We all are grieving,” Anne said, voice cracking.
Elaina huffed and got out of bed. She stomped over to the window and lifted a slat in the blinds.
The bloodstained shed.
Anger, an uncontrolled rhythm pulsing at a speed she couldn’t handle, rolled through her body.
She dropped the slat and walked back to the bed.
Just as she lay down, Anne said, “Elaina, my son died. It hurts my heart to see his son suffer the absence of two parents.” She placed her hands on her narrow hips. “I hope you can get up for Nicky. He needs his mummy.”
“And I need Henry,” Elaina choked through another onslaught of sobs. “But I can’t have him because part of his brain is out there on that fucking shed!”
“I’ll bring you up a cup of coffee. That should help a little.” Anne stepped out of the room and shut the door, sealing in the darkness once again.
Fumbling through the bedding and pillows, she searched for Henry’s journal, finally finding it. She hugged it close to her chest. His personal thoughts, the entries laced with sadness and fear… She wouldn’t ever let it go.
She ran her fingers over the stitched edge, feeling the tiny knotted flaw in the upper left-hand corner, something Henry complained about when she bought it. He rambled on for several minutes over how he had to have perfection to maintain his sanity…until she screamed the only other one available looked as if a unicorn had vomited on the cover.
Her face twisted as more tears fell. She wished she had been more attentive to his needs, even if they seemed outrageously difficult.
The fact of the matter… It really didn’t matter. A journal with a perfect cover wouldn’t have kept Henry from putting a bullet in his head. It was just as perfect as he was—flaws leading to the rest of his story.
Elaina rolled to her side, the journal’s hard edges leaving indents on her skin. The ache in her heart intensified as tears continued to fall. The pain would always be there, lingering, stealing life from her. The black hole in her soul would just expand further and further every day she was forced to live without him until she, herself, disappeared, too.
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“Henry…,” she whimpered. “W-Why did you do this to me?” She choked as the last word fell from her lips.
After shutting the door to Elaina’s bedroom, Anne let out a harsh, frustrated breath.
She walked down the hall and into Nicky’s room. “Good morning, monkey,” she said, doing her best to maintain a singsong voice. Nicky squealed as she approached the crib. “Mummy is still sleeping, so we have to be quiet,” she said, holding her finger over her lips.
“Shhh,” Nicky said, giggling.
“That’s right. Let’s get that nappy changed, then I will make you breakfast.”
He held his arms up as Anne hoisted him from the crib.
“You are getting so big.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
Once she finished changing and dressing Nicky, she carried him downstairs, walking through the kitchen and into the family room.
“Here you go. I’ll be right back.” She placed him in his portable play crib and handed him a couple toys and books. Before walking away, she kissed her fingers and touched his head.
Even though she wanted to put them to rest, more crippling thoughts and emotions stirred in her mind, radiating throughout her body. Wrapping an arm around her torso, she stood in the middle of the kitchen, sucking back her tears. She was so very sad for the little boy who would never truly know how wonderful his father was.
The first time she saw Henry hold Nicky, she knew her son would be the father she always wished he had. So attentive to the baby and his needs, she would find him staying up until all hours of the night to keep him calm so Elaina could sleep.
She pressed her palms to the countertop’s edge, leaning her slight weight onto them, taking several deep breaths to settle herself so she could stand strong and be the woman everyone needed.
“Come on, Anne. Get with it,” she whispered, straightening.
She reached up into the cabinet and pulled out the container of coffee. Once she readied the machine to brew, she stood in silence, her hands steepled in front of her lips, peeking in on Nicky, watching him quietly playing with his toys.
She poured coffee into a mug, then headed upstairs to try to get Elaina up and going.
She paused at the door, wanting to get herself completely under control before she walked in. After another deep breath, she knocked and opened the door, stepping into the darkened room.
“Elaina…”
“Please, leave me be, Anne,” she said, her voice muffled in the bedding.
She pursed her lips, fighting the surging anger. “Listen to me,” she said, walking over to the bed. She sat on the edge, setting the mug on the nightstand. Shifting, she ran her hand through Elaina’s hair. “I love you so much and I am so sorry…” She had to pause to pull herself together. “I’m so sorry my son left you like he did. I wish I could’ve stopped him.”
“He said some odd things to me before we left for the store.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me everything would be okay. I knew something was off, but I thought he referred to us getting back what we once had in our relationship. I had no idea he meant you, Nicky, and I would be okay without him.” Elaina curled around Anne, wrapping her arms around her body, resting her head in her lap. “It hurts so much.”
“I know it does,” she said, running her fingers through Elaina’s knotted hair. “Don’t blame yourself for not noticing the cues. We all know he was always a little bit off-kilter mentally. His words could’ve meant so many different things.”
“I feel so sad and angry. I hate that we have to live without him.”
“Me, too, sweetheart.” Anne patted Elaina on the back. “Drink your coffee. I need to get back downstairs and feed Nicky. You know, how about I make us a nice breakfast. Pancakes or eggs… Whatever you want.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat.”
“I don’t feel like it. Maybe later.”
“That’s all I can ask, I guess.” Anne shook her and tried to stand, but Elaina held her down on the bed. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me go.”
“No.”
“I need to take care of Nicky until you get up.”
Relenting, Elaina released her grip. Anne patted her on the back, got up, and left the room.
Elaina tugged at the bed sheet, wiping her wet cheeks. She reached to the nightstand and switched on the light. A hiss broke from her lips, the brightness making her flinch. With her hand shading her eyes, she grabbed the mug of steaming coffee and took a sip. With no intention of leaving the bed anytime soon, she only drank to dampen the oncoming headache.
After downing about half, she grabbed the pen from the nightstand and opened Henry’s journal to the pages on which he wrote the suicide notes. Slow and careful, she read the entries several times, adding a tick mark for each, then closed the journal.
For a moment, she debated on her day. Pushing the sheets off her legs, she stood from the bed and walked over to the window. She lifted a slat in the blinds and, once again, the bloodstain on the shed overwhelmed her with sadness, hurt, and anger.
“I’m so sorry, Henry. I wish I could’ve saved you,” she whispered.
Dropping the slat, she walked back over to the bed and crawled in. There was no way she could act alive when her heart felt dead. She let out a shuddering breath and pulled the covers over her body, snuggling in, hoping she would wake from this nightmare soon.
Chapter 4
While sipping on a fresh cup of coffee, Cora watched her oldest daughter, Kate, push around a section of pancake on her plate. After smooshing it and stabbing the blueberry several times with the fork, Cora asked, “Do you want to talk about anything?” Kate looked up at her mother, eyes wide.
Cora glanced at her oldest son, Silas, as his gaze lifted from his plate. She glanced at the three youngest, Callie, Grey, and Everette, happily eating away.
“It looks like you two are done with your meal,” she said to Kate and Silas. “Come on. Let’s go into the living room for a moment.”
She stood and walked off, the two children trudging behind. She waved them to the couch, kneeling in front as they sat.
“Talk to me,” she encouraged.
“I don’t understand,” Kate whispered, squeezing her hands together in her lap.
“About Henry?” Both Kate and Silas nodded. Cora sighed and took both their hands. “He had a lot of things in his head. Things hurting his heart and clouding his ability to make good choices.”
“But why would someone use a gun on themselves?” Silas asked, voice shaking. “Guns are for undeads, not people.”
“I don’t know how else to explain it. He must have felt his pain would never heal and saw it as a way to make it stop. It’s very sad.”
“I don’t think it was a very good choice,” Kate said, still whispering.
“I agree, and it’s not something anyone should consider because there is always someone available to help. I want you both to listen carefully.” She waited until the kids looked her in the eye. “Know that I am always here for you. Know that Gunther is always here for you. Know that your brothers and sisters are always here for you. If you cannot find answers, you can pray for strength to find them.”
“Momma, can we pray for Mr. Henry and his family?” Silas asked.
“Of course.”
Tearing up, she watched with pride as they clasped each other’s hands and bowed their heads, whispering a prayer for Henry and strength for Anne, Elaina, and Nicky.
Gunther lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t slept much, wondering what to do and how to go about doing it.
Nerves frayed, he felt unsure of whether he should sob or beat the fuck out of something until it shattered into a million tiny pieces. Because that was what he felt like inside. Nothing but bits and shards left, no hope of putting himself back together.
The pain reminded him of when Quinn and his unborn died at the hands of those savages from the program. It would always
be an echo in his heart, mind, and soul. A visual that would haunt him until his own ugly ending.
He rolled to his side with a groan. Thankfully, the kids were settled and not disturbing him. The last thing he wanted was to try to smile with so much hurt filling him.
Glancing at his watch, he realized it was coasting into early afternoon. He knew he needed to get up, but lacked the desire to be a part of the living.
Henry’s death hit him hard, maybe even more than he wanted or expected it to. The guilt niggled in the back of his mind, wishing he had come home when Cora called about hearing a gunshot.
Survivor’s guilt.
He had survived the program.
Survived while walking as alive as the undead.
Survived the mental pain and anguish brought on by those cocksuckers.
Gunther gritted his teeth, knowing he was just as guilty as the rest. It all wrapped around his mind, bringing forward his feelings of responsibility for Henry’s suicide.
He nestled farther down into the bedding, relishing the soft warmth caressing his achy, weary body.
A light knock came from the other side of the door.
He groaned, shoving the covers back. “Yeah?”
The door opened and Cora stepped through, closing it behind her. “I wanted to come up and check on you,” she said, her voice soft and full of worry. Teary-eyed, she stared at him for a moment, concern playing with her expression and body language—her brows furrowed, her shoulders slumping. Trying to be strong, her voice shaking, she said, “You’ve been sleeping all morning and early afternoon.”
“I was awake most of the night, finally falling to sleep when the sun started coming up,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“I figured as much.” She approached and sat on the bed beside him, running her fingers through his beard. She wanted to cry as they locked gazes. His pain was evident, but she had no idea how to help ease it. “Can I fix you something to eat? Maybe bring you up coffee or tea?” He shook his head, looking away. “You need to eat.”
“You’re right, but I don’t feel like it,” he said, sighing.
She rolled her lips into her mouth and ran her fingertips over the heavy scar on his cheek. He turned his head, pushing into her gentle touch.
Full Circle (Shattered Lives, Book Five) Page 4
