One by One: A brutal, gritty revenge thriller that you won't be able to put down.

by Robert Enright

  He clenched his fists.

  More tears rolled down his face.

  Beep! Beep!

  Helen looked so much smaller, laid out on the table like a china doll. She was motionless, her thin arms resting weightlessly against her petite frame. She was covered by a white cloth but Lucas could see blood stains beginning to soak through.

  He trudged around to the side of the bed opposite the life-support machine, adjacent to the blood transfer and breathing apparatus.

  All of this just to keep her alive, to keep her safe.

  Something he hadn’t been able to do.

  He ran a hand over the top of her head, his fingers weaving gently through her messy, blonde hair which was now tainted by a few splatters of blood.

  He swallowed hard and then very gently scooped up her hand, running his finger over her wedding ring - the symbol of their love binding them together.

  “Hello my angel,” he whispered quietly, his words feebly dropping into the room. Helen’s fingers lightly squeezed Lucas’s hand. He looked at her hopefully, a tear dropping onto the table.

  Beep! Beep!

  “I’m so sorry, Helen. I should have been here. I should have. When we got married, my love, I made a promise to you. I promised that I would love you every day and I have. God I have!

  “But I also promised you that I would look after you. That I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. That I would protect you. I failed you, Helen. I failed.'

  Lucas looked at his motionless wife, his heart breaking.

  “And I am so, so sorry.”

  Lucas lowered himself to the side of the bed, his knees resting on the hard, cold floor. He still held Helen’s hand, but he bowed his head, sobbing. Resigning himself to going home alone.

  A wave of fear washed over him and he was suddenly aware of everything that Helen had done for him. How she had saved him all those years ago and how, throughout the years of their marriage, she had never given up on him.

  He felt the first wave crash against the walls she had helped him to build.

  “I need you, Helen. I need you. I can’t control…..I mean, I don’t know how to….please don’t leave me.”

  Beep! Beep!

  “Please!”

  Lucas pushed his head into Helen’s chest, his tears immediately absorbed by the sheet. He rested for a moment and cried bitter tears. Helen again, gently squeezed his hand. Lucas pushed himself up, rubbing away the wetness of his eyes with the back of his other arm. He looked at his wife, an avalanche of love falling upon him.

  “I need you so much, Helen,” he said, meaning every word with every fibre of his being. “I love you so much!”

  Abruptly, Helen’s swollen eyes flickered and she let the sharp brightness of the lights above her in. Nothing made sense. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, the smell of the room was peculiar. She heard the sound of a machine, and a hissing sound every few seconds. A high-pitched beep, like an alarm from a digital watch, kept piercing her ear drums every few seconds.

  The only thing she recognised was Lucas.

  She attempted a smile, but pain and something plastic hindered her.

  Beep! Beep!

  She slid her hand from Lucas’s grasp, she was sure she used to be able to do this with minimal fuss. Flashes of her life began to filter through, the moment her and Kelly, her younger sister, had put on a dance show for their parents. When her mum had brought home Buster, the Labrador she would love for thirteen years. The day she’d graduated from university, her dad crying tears of joy at her receiving her degree in psychotherapy.

  The moment she’d met Lucas.

  Their first kiss.

  Walking down the aisle towards him.

  Beep! Beep!

  Her vision of Lucas was beginning to blur and he looked at her, the bright lights reflecting off his eyes. His strong, handsome face was locked onto hers. She raised her arm, using every inch of effort that she could muster to reach a hand towards his face.

  A vision of Lucas surprising her at work with flowers entered her mind and left just as quickly.

  She reached beyond his mouth and then with a weak index finger, she pushed the end of his nose up. Lucas broke, the ‘pig-nose’ causing tears to pour forth and down onto his jumper.

  Helen didn’t say a word.

  A vision of Lucas lying next to her in bed, leaning on his elbows, filtered through bit by bit. The vision was grainy, the colour fading from it. Lucas told her he loved her. The colours all evaporated.

  Helen’s hand dropped to the table.

  Her swollen eyes closed.

  The breathing apparatus didn’t inflate.

  A long, constant beep from the life-support machine.

  Helen was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Time became a measurement that would never register with Lucas again. How long he’d remained beside Helen's lifeless body, he would never know nor care. He knelt, his watery eyes fixed on her motionless face. The swollen lids of the beautiful eyes he would never see again. He controlled his breathing, short, sharp exhales as the impending darkness of his lonely future took shape in his mind.

  No more surprise presents.

  No more security of holding a hand that wanted its fingers interlocked with his.

  No more Helen.

  A final tear formed in the corner of his eyes; he blinked a few times, his eyes sore. He pushed himself up to his feet, using his free hand to grasp the side of the table to support himself. He took a deep breath, looking down on the body of the woman he loved more than anything.

  The one person who had seen the man he truly was.

  Who had never given up on him.

  Who had pulled him from the abyss.

  He gently soothed the back of her hand, his fingers sliding over her delicate, lifeless skin. Her nails had been painted the pale shade of purple he loved so much. He looked at her for what felt like an eternity, everything around her fading to darkness. He didn’t even register the table, just his wife's face. The final tear rolled from his eye lid and took an eternity to roll down his face.

  He had no idea how long he’d been standing there for.

  He gently slid his hand around her finger, his fingers clamping onto her wedding ring, the humble symbol of their love. It wasn't worth much financially, but that didn’t matter. Lucas had never held anything that had meant more to him.

  Apart from Helen.

  Who he would never hold again.

  He gradually eased the ring from her finger and clenched his fist, squeezing so tightly that it left an imprint on his palm. He carefully put his hand into his pocket, releasing the ring so it stayed safely next to his wallet. He gently lowered her hand to the table, letting her fingers slide from his hand as he withdrew it. He took a few more sharp breaths, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. He placed a hand softly onto her head, running it through her hair. Her face didn't move. No warm smile to accompany the show of affection.

  “I love you, Helen.”

  He quietly whispered it as he leant forward, kissing her warm forehead as softly as he could, like he’d done every morning. He didn't want to wake her.

  She was now sleeping peacefully.

  He stood up straight and took one last hard breath.

  The final tear fell from his jaw.

  The splash it caused on the table sent an echo coursing through Lucas. He felt a strange measure of calm.

  His fists clenched.

  He looked at his wife one final time and then walked away.

  It had never been clearer in his mind of what he had to do.

  Helen didn’t say anything as he left the room.

  The moment Lucas had walked through the door to say goodbye to his wife, Starling moved quickly to console Alex. Realising how close this man was to Lucas, and his soon to be departed love, Starling felt so much guilt for not getting to Helen soon enough.

  Of course, logically he knew it wasn't his fault. Officer Mills had been right when she�
�d he had done all he could. But all that resulted in was an overwhelming sense of failure.

  He had failed this man who was crying for his fallen friend.

  He had failed Lucas, who was having to say his hard goodbye to the love and life he had cherished.

  He had failed Helen and her unborn child, both of them eradicated from a world where they would have been surrounded by love.

  “It's just so fucking messed up!”

  Alex was speaking whispered words between sobs, struggling to get them out over the rapid breaths he was taking. Starling couldn't help but be impressed by the physical peak Alex was in, having been informed that Alex was a Muay Thai instructor when he was told that Helen's husband had been located. Lucas was also a physical specimen and Starling felt a little inadequate that he wasn't in the same shape. He looked after himself, he boxed regularly and competed in long distance running. But he wasn't as obviously capable as these two heartbroken men, whose world had been obliterated by his failure.

  No, not his failure.

  “We never know why these things happen,” Starling said softly, his police training shining through. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”

  Alex almost chuckled to himself, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Both of them sat on small green chairs, the, white walls illuminated by the loud bulbs. Alex composed himself and turned to the young police officer.

  “You try telling that to him.”

  Alex nodded in the direction of the door, which was closing slowly behind a surprisingly calm-looking Lucas. Colour had begun to return to his cheeks, however his eyes were red and bore the marks of soreness. He didn't wear the mask of someone experiencing heartbreak. Nor did he have the look of a man on the edge.

  He exuded calm.

  A worrying, almost threatening calm.

  Starling immediately stood up, straightening his tie which had long been pulled to the side, and adjusted his damp shirt which had long since been untucked. The strain of the night was visibly showing by his appearance.

  Lucas seemed even more imposing, his jumper damp and clinging to his muscular frame. He strode purposefully past the nurses and doctor who rushed into the operating theatre in the vain hope of reviving a woman who had long since left this earth.

  Lucas walked straight to Starling.

  “Who did this?”

  His stare pierced through Starling, who made an instinctive movement of his hand to the police baton on his belt. The words were cold, purposeful.

  “Lucas, I understand that this is a difficult time for you and you are emotional....”

  “Who did this?”

  Starling had to move into a position where he was in control.

  “Mr Cole, I advise you to leave this to the Metropolitan Police.” He straightened his back, knowing he was not posing any threat to the grieving Lucas. “Go home, rest and begin to think about funeral arrangements.”

  Lucas shook his head angrily and stared at the ground, pulling his lips tight to stop himself from saying something he would regret. Starling did that for him.

  “We will do the best we can.”

  Lucas looked up at the young officer, his dark eyes betraying any hope he had of trying to show he was calm.

  “The best you can?” He looked at the closed door to the theatre, knowing that beyond, nurses would be covering his wife’s body with a sheet whilst Dr. Singh announced her time of death. He looked back at Starling, who tried sheepishly to not make eye contact.

  “The best you can do has left me without a wife and a child, so don't you tell me....”

  “Okay, come on Lucas,” Alex pulled an arm around his angry friend, ushering him away from the young officer, who was beginning to get agitated by Lucas's manner.

  Alex was fully aware of where Lucas was heading.

  “Sir, take him home,” Starling valiantly tried to wrestle back his authority in the situation. Alex politely nodded, but before he could apologise, Lucas pushed his arm off and stalked aggressively towards the exit.

  His world had been clinging to life by a thread.

  A thread that had long since snapped.

  Alex stopped himself from chasing after him, allowing Lucas the freedom of his anger and thoughts. Lucas raged down the bright, white corridor, passing a few faces showing their sorrow for the newly widowed. As he slammed open the next set of doors, Helen watched him. He walked straight past her, not looking back. She was wearing a white gown, which was slightly flowing in non-existent wind, the edges not defined and ending in a blur of white. Her hair was swaying slightly atop of her now fully healed face, her piercing blue eyes filling with tears.

  None of her edges were defined. She seemed to smudge around the outline, as if someone had coloured her in with felt tips but hadn't stayed within the guidelines. Her words hung in the air as she did.

  “Don’t lose control!”

  Lucas continued down the corridor.

  “Don't let this happen, Lucas.”

  She called out, her voice resonating through his body like a single shout in an auditorium. It echoed through every tunnel of his body and he stopped in place.

  Helen was gone.

  He reminded himself a few more times.

  Helen was gone.

  She didn't move: he wasn't even sure if her feet were there. He turned his head slightly to the side, taking a few moments to decide whether to respond to this incomplete projection of his wife.

  “It already has.”

  Lucas resumed his march to the exit, into the long forever of loneliness and a life of constant absence. He turned right before the lift, hurling open the door to the stairs and disappeared through the doorway.

  The vision of Helen had disappeared long before that.

  The journey back up to Brinscall was shrouded in a heavy silence. Alex had sobered up sufficiently, the emotional weight of the evening plus a few bottles of water had enabling him to take the wheel.

  The endless dark of the road, interspersed by oncoming headlights seemed to last an eternity. The rain still fell down, but even that didn't register to any of the passengers as a problem anymore.

  The emotional avalanche had taken its toll on Dianne, and she lay asleep on the back seat under Alex's coat, her hands protectively over her stomach. Inside, her growing baby was sound asleep.

  Lucas stared straight ahead through the windscreen, worrying Alex with his lack of anything. No words. No movements. A statue of a man with nothing other than fury in his eyes.

  Alex wanted to reach out to him, say words that would somehow soften a blow that could never be repaired. He felt inadequate, knowing full well that a few feet behind them slept his entire family whilst only a few hours ago, his best friend had lost his in its entirety.

  On they drove.

  Away from the nightmare.

  And into a new one.

  Starling turned the keys in his front door, the metal jingling against solid wood. It opened with a soft creak and he flicked on the light switch with a lazy hand.

  His flat instantly brightened, revealing a modest-sized living room with store-bought furniture that needed a woman's touch. He kicked out behind him after he’d entered, the door slamming shut and possibly waking a neighbour or two. He didn't care, dropping his keys and his coat where he stood.

  He didn't allow himself the luxury of crying, this was part of the job. He had to take the failures with the successes.

  He walked slowly through the front room, past the leather sofa and the coffee table, dropping his personal effects on its oaken top. They hit the wood with a clatter, yet he carried on walking, past the kitchen and into the small, clean bathroom. He pulled the cord to summon the light and stared at himself in the mirror.

  He felt like he’d aged a decade in a single night, the bags under his eyes prominent, as if he’d been punched with all of somebody's might.

  He thought of Helen.

  He bent over, turned on the cold tap and splashed water on his face an
d on his short, blonde hair in an attempt to cool down. His hands clenched the rim of the sink, tightening with anger as his knuckles turned white.

  He had failed.

  He looked up into the mirror again, making a sworn promise to himself that he would not let her, or this case, disappear like so many others had done. That he would make sure those responsible would pay with interest.

  He left the room abruptly, plunging it into darkness as he exited. He turned left, through the next door and without even turning on the light, collapsed onto his double bed.

  He hit the mattress and felt the trials of the day lift from him like dust from an old cushion. He hadn't realised how tired he was until he’d lazily kicked off his heavy boots and gave up undressing himself.

  He thought of Annette, how he should introduce her to his father.

  His father who was so proud.

  'You done well there, son.'

  Not tonight, Dad. Not tonight.

  Starling slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  The car came to a slow stop at the end of Lucas's gate, the house appearing much larger now that only one person was returning to it. The rain wasn't as heavy, caressing the vehicle with a gentle, wet rapping.

  As soon as Alex cut the ignition, Lucas unclipped his seat belt and reached for the door handle.

  “Hey Lucas…” Lucas turned to Alex, appreciating the gesture as his best friend searched for any words of comfort. Alex smiled at him, admitting defeat. “If there’s anything we can do....”

  “Thanks, Alex,” Lucas nodded. He turned and looked at Dianne, still sleeping off the pain.

  Alex tried but again gave up on saying anything and Lucas got out, closing the door quietly. Alex watched as the man approached the gate, apprehensive to reach out and open it. He finally did so, hesitantly, before stepping up to the front door.

  Lucas refused to look at the front garden, knowing that only a few days ago he’d made a mental schedule for how he and his wife were going to recreate it. Make it a garden they would be proud of.

  Their home.