Either way, the choice rests on my shoulders.
“Tick tock, tick tock,” Bancroft leers.
I look over to the guys. I’m on the precipice of that rooftop all over again, despite the passing of time that’s bound our souls together. It all comes back to this—death holding us apart. I have nothing to offer this world, but they do. Saving their lives is the only good thing I have left to give.
My finger rests on the trigger.
That’s when Mum’s mouth opens.
“It’s okay,” she says softly.
Her voice drags me back into the sordid past, but I’m no longer kicking and screaming. The years melt away in the chasm separating us. We’re back on the roof of our crappy, suburban house in rural England. Every morning, we climbed the trellis together, praying it wouldn’t break.
Here comes the sun, baby.
Close your eyes and pray for something good.
Why do we pray, Mummy?
For the strength to do good in this life, Brooke.
That’s why we put ourselves in the way of beauty.
I can feel the hot sting of tears on my cheeks. Despite the years of torture, conditioning, abuse and neglect, Mum’s sunken cheeks are wet too. She touches the tears with wonderment, looking surprised at her own reaction.
She has emotions.
She can feel.
She isn’t fucking dead.
The slight upturn of her lips severs my final heartstrings.
“Come on!” Bancroft roars behind me.
For a second, I consider raising the gun to my own head. The familiar crop of shadows that spawns beside my mother halts that thought. Broad shoulders, long legs, and a boyish grin form in my hallucination. Brushing his blonde hair aside, Logan stands next to his murderer.
He glances up at her, even if she can’t see him.
“No,” I breathe out.
Without a single word, Logan meets my eyes. His strength and devotion pour into me, the warmth in my chest expanding and chasing out the darkness. Standing by our mother’s side, I take comfort in the knowledge that she isn’t alone. He’s waiting to catch her on the other side, where peace awaits.
“I’m sorry, Mummy.”
Her lips move in a silent message.
I want to see my boy again.
Let go, Brooke.
Bancroft is screaming at me, but I can’t hear him. The threats wash over me like the rolling waves of the ocean. Little details enter my awareness and float away again. The guard’s hand is pushing the lever a tiny, warning inch as the countdown begins.
Distant voices and laughter echo from our cruel enablers as they watch the show, like it’s some twisted performance displaying what their money created. A flash of chestnut hair enters my periphery before it disappears, leaping back into the dark shadows.
“Please,” Mum whimpers quietly.
That’s when I realise her plan. The empty shell of my mother wanted me to come tonight. She knew this was the only way to be family again. This cruel world won’t give us our happy ending, but perhaps the promise of the next will. After years of torment, she has a chance to escape.
