Page 41 of Wreck and Ruin
I can feel their gaze on me, and the tiny hairs all over my body prick with awareness as their eyes, like daggers, pierce through my exposed, bloodied skin. The invisible spiders I’ve come to know begin their dance within my chest, making breathing even harder.
“In turn, life will be born, and may we find justice in the flesh that remains of her lifeless body.”
This is it.
This is where I die.
Don’t look, Airlie. You’re okay.
Deep down, I always knew that my life would end at the hands of Father.
Silent tears fall uncontrollably now, though I don’t try to fight them this time. My lips tilt into a smile as I recall the last time I was happy.
I was happy with Ezekiel.
I never got to say how honored I am to have met him. Or how grateful I am to have experienced what real love feels like before leaving this world. Because of Ezekiel, I get to die knowing I meant something to someone, that I was more than a phantom locked behind stone, gazing out at the sea that nobody knew existed.
Because of him, I will die knowing that in my final, happy moments, I was someone worth saving, that my life was worth fighting for.
That I wasn’t alone anymore.
And for that, I truly love him.
My mother told me once that love cannot be measured in any amount of time. She said that sometimes, our hearts decide who they belong to in one big conversation with fate, and we just have to play catchup.
That’s how it felt with Ezekiel. I loved him before I ever really knew him and learned who I was along the way.
“We surrender her troubled soul unto you, in dark communion, and in your house, we will dwell forever, in the name of the Holy Lord our Saviour.”
My sobs are louder now. My body is unmoving as fingers start gliding over my blood-covered skin, from the nails pinning me to this cross.
Don’t look, Airlie. You’re okay.
I will see him again, somewhere in the in-between, beneath the water and stone. I will wait for him there—the place where I first saw him, tangled within shadows.
Yes. That’s where I’ll be.
Tangled in shadows.
Until we meet again.
Chapter22
EZEKIEL
The dock groans with the weight of the armed man pacing up and down the weathered timber above me. Waves surge against my body, the salt burning my eyes as I hide among the rocks underneath the dock like the ghost I am.
I study the guard, his head low, a battle axe held uncaringly at his side, as I peek through the gaps in the wood. You’d think he’d have a gun or something more practical, but apparently, they like to do things the old-fashioned way around here. It smells like dead fish, rotten wood, and whale shit under this dock, and I don't know how, but the guard seems pretty unbotheredby it.
I can’t relate.
This is where all of the depraved shit happens. The heart of what makes The Royal operational. Small wooden boats that I assume are used to ferry victims to and from the vessels are moored to each side of the dock, creaking and bumping into each other with the movement of the tides. The dock stretches out to sea, a far enough distance so that the vessels steer clear of the rocks beneath the water.
The guard turns, his boots dragging sluggishly above me as he walks along the gangway to the boathouse at the end of the dock. I choose this moment to swim out from underneath it, biting down on the pocket knife as my hands grip the rock's slippery surface. I pull myself up from the ocean and onto the rocky waterfront, thankful for the raucous waves disguising any noise as my feet purchase on the shore. Careful not to slip, I steady myself, then scan the area to see if anyone else is lurking around before I creep down the dock toward the boathouse.
Time feels unmoving. Each critical second lingers for what feels like an eternity as fear sinks its serrated teeth into my bones, stabbing into my heart the longer that I’m out here.
They have her.
