It’s my fault.
Veronica fights me for a few beats until she falls to the ground with me. Holding her in my arms, I clutch her as tightly as I can.
Lightning strikes in the sky as the rain puddles at our feet, we are soaked to the bone.
Together we fall apart. We grieve.
Veronica’s sobs mix with the onslaught of rain and thunder. She shakes in my arms as we settle in this new world with one less person.
Another brother taken too soon.
I want more than anything to be strong for Veronica, but Maxwell has opened old wounds, and it doesn’t take long for my grief to swallow me whole.
And just like that I become a broken sobbing mess.
The Baby Girl.
Part IV Schrodinger’s Sunday
Playlist for parts III & IV.
49
October 12th
Get up. They’re going to be here soon.The words echo around us.You need to get up. Don’t let them find you there.
Breaking apart from Veronica, I look around. Trying to find the source of the voice.
Get up! Now!
Jerking to my feet, I grab Veronica and haul her with me back to Darius’s truck.
“We have to get dry.” Casting my attention around the area, I don’t see anyone else. But the voice was as if it were spoken into my ear.
As soon as we are in Darius’s truck, I hear the sirens.
My breathing comes out in heavy broken pants and then there are four cop cars pulling up to Maxwell’s vehicle.
From where I am parked, they can’t see us, but even still, I lower further in the seat. “Veronica, I don’t think they should know we were there.”
That’s correct. Stay out of trouble. Then you will be done with this. All of this.This time, when the voice wraps around me, I am able to recognize where it is coming from.
Me.
Except it’snotme. I chalk it up to another part of dying over and over again.
Veronica is silent as she lowers down, hiding in the truck with me.
“Veronica, I’m sorry.”
She breathes in and out a few times but doesn’t reply. She stares blankly out the window in a nearly catatonic state.
Even as hypocritical as it is, I want to shake her out of it, but then my phone chimes loudly, causing me to jump and my head to hit the steering wheel.
Grabbing hold of it, I answer. “I’m okay,” I say. “I’m with Veronica, I’ll meet you at home.” Disconnecting the call before Axel can lay into me or pepper me with questions I don’t want to answer, I shift back up to my seat and turn the truck on.
Veronica doesn’t get up from the floorboard, and I don’t make her.
