Full Circle (Shattered Lives, Book Five)

by Rissa Blakeley

  “That’s bullshit! You were scared.”

  “Wouldn’t you be if someone was spitting mad in your face? Do you even know what you said when you blacked out? The way you said Henry after Michelle called you Luke when you were semi-conscious?”

  That did it. I began to tremble as fear danced through my body.

  “I never logged in anything on your chart for one reason. I wanted the perfect moment to find your weaknesses. It seems your masochism is just that.”

  “I am not weak,” I growled, stepping into him.

  “Whoa… Maybe we should cool off,” the nurse said, grabbing my elbow.

  “The fuck you aren’t. You allowed the control. You, Luke Richards, are a weak man.”

  I shoved him, making him stumble backward. “Do not ever call me weak. You know nothing about me. Nothing at all. You have no idea what the fuck I’m capable of.”

  “W…e…a…k,” he said again, enunciating every goddamn letter with a giant fucking smirk.

  I belted out a rage-filled scream, turned and faced the bag, pummeling it until I couldn’t breathe. Bent over at the waist, I gasped for air. When I finally stood straight and faced him again, the nurse had left and PJ sat in the chair.

  “Are you ready to talk now?” he asked in a much more subdued tone.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I rasped, trudging back to the bed, sitting on the edge.

  “Now, tell me… What’s going on in your head?”

  I didn’t want to look at him, too humiliated to take the slightest glance. Fighting the ball of emotion, my eyes began leaking…again. I shoved my hair back and took a few deep breaths. I was normally a pissed off badger when cornered, but it was pointless this time.

  “I hear voices,” I whispered through the tears.

  “Could you say that again? A little louder?”

  “I hear voices,” I said clearer, covering my face.

  Long seconds passed before I felt warm hands on my arms, tugging them away from my body. “Look at me.” I gazed up, completely broken. “I want you to understand one thing. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m going to do everything in my power to help you overcome and take control. When I look at you, I see a man full of passion. One whose heart may be broken, but who is ready to put all his pain behind him and move forward.”

  “Do you really think I can?” I asked, my voice still rough.

  “As stubborn as you are? Yes, I do. But understand this. This fight is going to be a long and difficult one. It’s not an overnight process or something a magic pill can cure. It’s going to be a lot work, both for you and me.”

  “How long?”

  “Years. I need to talk to Dr. Barter about any current medications and what we can do, medically speaking, about your psychosis.”

  Psychosis? “Uhh… That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

  He leaned forward slightly. “Are you disagreeing with my assessment of your mental stability?”

  “Isn’t psychosis attached to schizophrenia?”

  “And what exactly do you think you are?”

  “I wouldn’t say schizophrenic,” I muttered.

  “So, after telling me you hear voices in your head, you can safely say you don’t experience delusions or hallucinations?”

  “I’m a little more comfortable with knowing I have PTSD than delusions and hallucinations.”

  “Correction. You have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This diagnosis is in addition to your C-PTSD. If you had been a little more forthcoming, we could’ve already gotten you on medication.”

  “I’m troubled with the term hallucinations, though.”

  “Luke, hearing voices is a form of auditory hallucination.”

  “Gotcha.”

  So there it was. I was legit crazy. Perfect. I knew I had some serious issues, but to be officially deemed barking mad didn’t exactly thrill me. I planned on hanging on to the hope that most of this madness was related to the virus; however, I wasn’t too sure about how much I could say to PJ.

  “As I’ve said, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Some of history’s most remarkable individuals had voices taunting them.”

  “Don’t patronize me,” I muttered.

  “I would like to talk about one more thing. You said you have unfounded anger coursing through your body.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Please elaborate.”

  “It’s just like this buzz in my body. I used to be able to get my anger out at the gym, but not now. It sneaks up on me and takes hold at the oddest and most inappropriate times.”

  “I want you to try something next time this anger surfaces. I want you to step back in your mind and take a few cleansing breaths. Settle yourself. Control your emotions. Don’t allow them to control you.”

  Control my emotions? How the fuck do I do that? “Yeah… Thanks.”

  Reaching out, PJ clapped me on the shoulder. “I think that’s enough for today. Michelle’s coming back in with your anti-serum. How about you lie back and relax, try to get some rest before the treatment.”

  “Yeah. Good plan.”

  “You’ve done well,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m proud of your progress today. I will see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as he left the room, I heard the demons.

  Weak. Everyone knows how weak you are.

  “Shut up,” I growled, lying back in the bed.

  Not this time, Liam. We’re best mates until the end. The very bloody end.

  I slapped my hands over my face, feeling worse for wear. If all my issues weren’t virus-related, how would I tell Elaina her husband would always be a fucking joke?

  My son deserved better, as did my wife and mum.

  Chapter 14

  -Gamebridge, New York-

  Time passed. Was it a few days or maybe a week? With having to care for a wild toddler and a woman who refused to put an ounce of effort into life, Anne wasn’t sure.

  She understood…for the most part.

  Elaina lost the man she thought she saved, then lost herself during her mourning. Her grief overshadowed Nicky’s needs.

  A phone call came in after breakfast, causing Anne to struggle in making decisions regarding her son. When the doorbell rang, she was glad to see Gunther standing on the porch.

  She smiled as she opened the door. “Come in and sit.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking sullen as he walked through the doorway and into the dining room.

  Anne walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee. When she came back, he had already seated himself at the table.

  She considered his dark circles and the unhealthy, dull look of his face. He seemed to be sagging in his skin. Might even have lost a bit of weight, as well. It made her tear up seeing a man, who was just as broken as her son, harboring such guilt over things she learned he couldn’t control.

  Setting the coffee near his hand, she took the seat adjacent to him. She spent a moment gazing at his scarred face, hoping to understand how he felt.

  “Look at me,” she said. Gunther shut his eyes for a moment, turning to face her.

  The pain he saw in Anne’s eyes was unrelenting, just as much as his. He wanted to vomit. He knew he was partly to blame for the stupid thing Henry did. He had many things he wanted to say; however, nothing but a whisper of air pushed through the tightness in his throat.

  “I want you to understand I don’t blame you, Gunther.” As the tears cascaded down his cheeks, collecting in his stubble, she took his hands and rubbed the backs with her thumbs. His legs began to bounce as he tried to hold it back. “It’s okay. You can let it out.”

  He tipped his head back, hoping to keep more tears from falling. “I’m trying to be strong.”

  “I know, and you’ve done well. So well for all of us. My son was privileged to have you as a friend. Regardless of your past, I see you as an honorable man.”

  “Fuck… Sorry.” Pulling his hands from hers, he rubbed at the
ache in his chest. “I thought I was doing okay until I started making phone calls to find someone to help me with the financial side of Edge. It seemed surreal. Why? Why should I keep his dream alive? Edge was his idea. I went along with it because, well…what else could I do? But then I realized, while it wasn’t my true dream, I love what I do. It would be the best way to honor him.”

  “I’m sure you’ve made him proud thus far.”

  “I hope so.”

  “How are things with Cora?” A soft smile lifted his lips. “Good then?”

  “Yeah. Slow and steady, but we’ve made big strides. She’s been amazing, so supportive of the decisions I’ve made.”

  “Good. I’m pleased to hear that. She’s a great woman.”

  “She is. We have this connection. We both lost our spouses. I know, technically, Quinn and I weren’t married, but it felt that way to us. We’ve brought our families together and… Can I just say I love being a father? I feel it’s my calling.”

  “Henry looked up to you because of it.”

  He bit his bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath. “I love all these kids. When I look at them, I see a future for us. All of us. They are going to do well and make this world a better place.” Anne smiled. Gunther let out a sigh and wiped his cheeks again. “I came over to check on you guys. Seems as though I was the one who needed the comfort.”

  “You being here for us comforts me. I know I can count on you.”

  “I’ve got to say, Anne, I never saw this for me. A family, friends…love. Even if we are engulfed in this sadness right now, I still feel hopeful for all of us.”

  “While the tunnel may seem long and arduous to travel, there is always an end, a beacon of light guiding us there.”

  “No truer words have ever been spoken.”

  Anne shifted in the chair, feeling good about Gunther’s emotions settling. It was now her turn to lean on someone. “May I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “The funeral home called earlier. Henry’s…” She pursed her lips, not believing what she was about to say. “His ashes are ready, but I’m doubtful Elaina will go with me. Can you take me to pick them up?”

  “Absolutely. I can take you tomorrow morning. Is that good for you?”

  “Perfect.”

  Gunther took a long swallow from the cup. “Thank you for this. I probably should get going. It’s getting late, and Cora will need help wrangling the little buggers.” They both stood and pushed in the chairs. “Anytime you need to talk, call me or Cora. We will always make time to sit and chat with you.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  “Cora made mention she wanted to host a remembrance for Henry. Is that okay? Or do you want to do that here?”

  “Oh, that is so sweet. Thank you. It would be wonderful if she could.” She looked around the untidy room. “It would be so helpful.”

  “Consider it done. I believe she’s already making lists of what she’ll need to get.” He leaned over and wrapped his long arms around her seemingly frail body. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, letting go.

  Anne smiled and gave a quick nod as he headed out the door. She let out a long sigh, finding it difficult to hold herself together, but then Nicky started wailing through the monitor.

  “Breathe, Anne. You can do this,” she whispered, climbing the stairs.

  As Gunther crossed the yard, his phone chimed. He pulled it from the pocket of his pants, seeing a text from Jake as he continued to walk to the house.

  Congrats, Grampa G :)

  Attached were a few pictures. As they loaded, he gasped. “Cora!” he yelled, slamming the front door.

  She jogged down the stairs, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. “Wha’?”

  “Look!” He turned the phone to her.

  She yanked the toothbrush out and accidentally swallowed the toothpaste, grimacing for a second. “Oh, my god! Look at them! So tiny. All those cords and tubes, though… They look to be in intensive care.”

  “Hold on a sec…” Gunther trailed off, turning the phone back to him, typing out a reply.

  Congrats! Well done. They are brilliant. Is everyone good?

  He paced, waiting for a reply.

  “Just call!” Cora said anxiously.

  “I can’t just call, Cora. I could be interrupting the doctors or if the wee ones are sleeping—” When his phone rang, he couldn’t tap the ANSWER button fast enough. “Jake? How’s my lass?”

  “Hey, Gramps. She’s good, just exhausted and resting. The surgery took a lot out of her. The anesthesia made her sick.”

  “How about the babies?” Gunther asked as Cora wrapped a hand around his bicep, standing on her tiptoes, trying to listen.

  Jake sighed. “Well, they are really small. Jos talked to you about the names, yeah?”

  “Yes. Quinn, no matter if the baby were a boy or girl.”

  “They’re identical girls, but Quinn is three pounds, two ounces, and Summer is two pounds, eleven ounces. Summer is…was my mother’s name.”

  “Such an honor, Jake.” Gunther squeezed his eyes shut, begging himself not to get emotional. Cora noticed his struggle and rubbed his back.

  “We are honored to have been touched by Quinn’s love.”

  “How are you doing?”

  Jake let out a chuckle. “Well, it’s tough for a father to see. They need help with their breathing right now.”

  Cora dug her nails into Gunther’s arm, making him cringe. “That sounds serious, mate.”

  “Yeah, but the doctors said it’s not uncommon. We just have to wait and see.” Mumbled voices came through the phone. “I’ve got to jet. My daughters…” Jake chuckled. “That’s so weird to say. Anyway, their doctors are here.”

  “Understood. Call or text us anytime with updates, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Ending the call, Gunther turned and faced Cora. He smirked and reached out to swipe away a dollop of toothpaste foam. Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks…Gramps.”

  Gunther laughed. “Such a sassy granny.” She yipped when he swatted her on the ass as she turned to head upstairs.

  Chapter 15

  Anne woke, not looking forward to the day’s activities. The thought of having to take care of Nicky and Elaina felt less daunting than picking up her son’s ashes. Doing so made it real.

  Henry was gone.

  Gazing at the clock, she saw it was seven-thirty AM. She stood and stretched, then listened for any sounds coming from Nicky. Hearing nothing, deciding to take a quick shower before he woke, she tip-toed out of her room and into the bathroom.

  As soon as she shut off the taps, she heard him in hysterics, screaming himself hoarse in his crib. Soaking wet, she pulled on her robe and rushed to his room, fearing he was hurt.

  Anne shoved the door open, seeing Nicky standing in his crib, red-faced, tears flowing down his cheeks. Anger filled her, not believing Elaina didn’t get up for him.

  She picked him up. “It’s okay, little monkey. Granny’s here,” she murmured, lips pressed to his forehead.

  “Mum-ma,” he cried, hiccupping and choking.

  She tried to control her rage, but it was a lost cause.

  Anne stormed into Elaina’s dark bedroom, Nicky still crying in her arms. Another bout of rage rolled through her when Elaina didn’t even acknowledge the situation.

  “Elaina! Did you not hear your son screaming?”

  “Yeah…I heard him,” she said, her voice muffled in the pillow.

  “Then why didn’t you go to him? He could’ve been hurt!”

  “He’s not, so all is well.”

  “You need to get your head out of your arse! I am done with this…” She waved her arm at Elaina, “mourning you’re doing. Nicky needs you! He was crying for you.”

  “So sorry, Anne. I’m a little out of it since I lost my husband,” Elaina grumbled.

  “And I lost my son. Neither loss
is greater than the other. Don’t you dare go all holier than thou with me! Stop being a bloody brat, get your arse out of bed, and take care of Henry’s son!” Elaina hissed, feeling Anne’s harsh words and sharp tone stab her like a knife. “If it matters to you at all, I am going to go pick up my son’s ashes today. Nicky is staying here.” Anne placed him on the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Nicky crawled onto Elaina. “Mumma,” he cried.

  “What’s wrong, sweet boy?” She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He nestled into her, touching her hair as it fell over his arm. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I do love you, I swear, but I’m struggling to breathe since Daddy left us. I miss him so much.”

  “Da-da,” he whispered.

  “Yes, Da-da. Do you miss him, too?”

  “Da-da,” he repeated.

  Elaina took that as a yes. “Are you hungry?”

  “Belly,” Nicky whimpered, patting his stomach.

  Not wanting to deal with more of his crying, she decided to get up and tend to his needs. “Let’s get you breakfast.”

  Anne milled around in the kitchen, straightening things she had already, but stopped when Elaina appeared in the doorway. She leaned against the counter, wrapping her fingers around the edge, gripping tightly so she wouldn’t grab something to throw.

  With rich anger in her tone, Anne said, “I have lost my only child twice, Elaina. Twice. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? Or what I went through watching his own father horrifically abuse him? I didn’t think I would ever see him smile again. I finally get him back, but he was so mixed up and out of sorts, functioning like a normal person wasn’t within his grasp. He was sick. Destroyed. Annihilated to the point that he loathed himself more than his father did. Do you have any idea how guilty I feel over bringing him into this world?”

  She glared at Elaina, who had tears streaming down her cheeks, her chin trembling as Anne continued.

  “My son was destined to be ruined at birth, but this life does have some meaning. It’s more than about being sad and depressed over his death. It’s about the strength and fortitude to carry on that I work at every minute of my life. As much as I want to curl up into a ball and die, I’m continuing for him…for his son. It has become apparent to me that’s something you cannot do. Be strong, be powerful, and show your son you can survive. Because if you can’t, Nicky will perish, as well.”