“Sadly enough, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid and never explained.”
― Jonathan Harnisch
. . .
For many years, I’ve seen my fair share of blood and gore. It was well within my line of work of course so I couldn’t really avoid it even if I wanted to–so the sight of blood and corpses didn’t unnerve me as much as it did.
But looking down, almost unseeingly, at the still-body of the only person I have somehow allowed myself to love, the person I was about to share my life… I was confused, so confused, like I was drowning with too many things all at once that I couldn’t pick them apart, to take a moment to process just what the actual hell is happening.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing even though I am literally looking and seeing this with own two eyes. Maybe I was in shock… because I felt numb, so, so numb, like I was watching and taking it all in from afar as some sort of distant spectator.
Because when I left Pearl just this morning, the last time I’ve seen her breathing and very much alive, she had been sleeping peacefully in our bed, inside our hotel room.
For fuck’s sake, I left her not even an hour ago!
I know this isn’t supposed to happen.
This doesn’t have to happen.
So… why?
Why does it have to be Pearl? Why her? Is this because she’s an outsider? Is it because my fiancé somehow fits in some fucked up criteria that some twisted bastard had put into mind?!
For an absurd moment, I suddenly wanted to shout and rage there and then. I wanted to scream and beat someone up into a bloody pulp till they are fucking unrecognizable, I wanted to curse and point fingers at the so many damned cops all loitering around me like inanimate lamp posts–useless, they’re so fucking useless, the lot of them–because for fuck’s sake, this wouldn’t have gone this far if all of them were just seriously doing their goddamned jobs!
But deep down, I know that’s not going to help me or anyone else here, it wouldn’t bring us anywhere close to the killer. It’s not going to make me feel better and it certainly wouldn’t bring back my girl…
My… girl…
I felt a shudder wracking my entire frame.
She had been entangled in chains.
But unlike any of the first victims, from what I can see, from what I can tell, she wasn’t tortured, not a single hair had been harmed, she just… simply drowned.
…Just… that.
“Valiant…” Junior muttered.
Wallace, looking both guilty and sad and sympathetic as the rest of the uniformed cops, stepped closer to my side as he placed a hesitant but firm hand reaching out on my shoulder, as though he was afraid to touch me, like I will lash out against him like some cornered animal, squeezing me gently, somehow easing my gaze to turn away from the corpse’s–from Pearl’s–as the paramedics hurriedly covered and ease her up to the stretcher until I couldn’t see her grayed features anymore.
I realized there and then, like an ice-cold bucket splashing on my face that I will never get to hear her voice ever again; never see her smiling or laughing again all over one of my shitty jokes. I… I will never get to see her wearing the nice dress she picked, no walking down the aisle…
Our life together had barely begun.
Why… why did it have to be cut so short?
As I watch them take her away, I can feel a part of me was being ripped apart as well. Like a part of me had died with her as well.
And it hurts.
Oh God, it hurts so much.
And all that I could think of in that one moment is that my cousin (or anyone really) doesn’t have the right to look so fucking sorry. He wasn’t the one who should feel guilty because this is seriously on me, damn it.
This is my fault…
I… I never should have brought her here.
I never should have come back home too.
. . .
I hadn’t meant to cry.
I didn’t even realize I was actually crying until Wallace wrapped an arm around me, the tears felt so unbearably hot on my face while the winds of the sea were a cold contrast as my cousin gently pulled me away from the scene with junior following behind us.
Pearl…
* * * * *
Before Junior could walk back to his car, my hand shot forward to grab him by the arm, making sure Wallace was well out of earshot.
He can’t be hearing this.
Not now, not right now…
“I’m still in,” I muttered under my breath.
Junior’s eyes widened, “Are you sure–?”
Something in my eyes (because yes, yes I’m so fucking sure) had probably tipped him off that I wasn’t screwing around because Junior stopped himself at that.
Then after a second, he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll see you by eight,”