Destroyed(112)

Fox laughed coldly. “You think I’m abandoning her? Goddammit, I’m protecting her. You’ve torn my f*cking heart out. How am I supposed to trust myself feeling so empty and alone? It’s Vasily all over again. Everyone I f*cking love dies!”

“Mummy?”

My heart dropped into my toes, and I looked down to see a groggy Clara blinking in confusion. “Why is your hand over my ear?”

I laughed through the sudden onslaught of tears. “No reason, sweetheart.” I removed my palm, clenching my fingers around the heat residue from touching her. She looked worn out, pale, and entirely too thin. Her lips had never lost their blue tinge and she felt frail, unsubstantial, as if her soul had already begun the journey to leave.

My body seized. No…

“When I grow up, I want a sister. I want to dress her, play with her, and teach her all about horses.”

I couldn’t breathe past the rock in my throat.

Clara’s brown eyes flickered upward to Fox. “Were you fighting?”

Fox immediately dropped to his haunches, reaching out to take her tiny hand. “No, Clara. We weren’t fighting.” His eyes swirled with hurricanes and snow, glistening with rage and misery. “Just talking. That’s all, little one.”

She sucked in a wheezy, unfulfilling breath. Another cough bombarded her small frame. “Good. I don’t want you to.” Her eyes closed again, and we stayed frozen. I dared to hope she’d fallen asleep, but her little lips parted and a darker tinge of blue returned.

My heart ripped itself out, vein by vein, artery by artery as my body prickled with foreboding. She’d never looked so wraith-like, so ghost-like, so…

You can’t have her. Not yet. Not yet! I yelled in my head, wishing I could go head-to-head with the powers that be. I need more time. I’m not ready.

Her liquid eyes re-opened. “Mummy?”

A gut-wrenching moan escaped my lips, before I cleared my throat and forced my terror away. The part of me unbound by earth—the spiritual part—knew the doctors had my daughter’s lifespan wrong once again.

There would be no more months. No more days.

“When I grow up, I want to be just like you, mummy. You’re my best-friend forever and ever.”

I couldn’t explain the crushing, debilitating weight that took up residence in my chest. Horror scattered down my spine as tears prickled my eyes. “Yes, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead, threatening away tears, drinking in her fading warmth.

“Do you think Roan would like my star? I can’t take it with me.”

Ah, f*ck.

No. No. No.

I gathered her closer, rocking, choking on relentless tears. I hated everything in that moment. Every doctor. Every hope. I hated life itself. “You can give it to him when you’ve had a good night’s rest, Clara. Don’t fret about it now.” I kissed her again, inhaling her apple scent into my lungs.

“When I’m older I’ll look after you, mummy. Just like you look after me.”

Her eyes suddenly popped wide, looking intelligent and almost otherworldly. She stared right at Roan as if she saw more than just a scarred man, but a broken boy from his story.

A large cough almost tore her from my arms. Once it passed, she gasped, “Don’t fight with mummy, okay? And you can have my star.”

Roan cleared his throat; his entire body etched with sorrow. His jaw clenched while his eyes were blank, hiding whatever he might be suffering. The scar on his cheek stood out, silver-red against the paleness of his face. “Okay, little one.” His large hand came forward and rested on her head.

Clara smiled and her eyes held Roan’s before coming to rest on mine. Something passed between us—something older and mystical than an eight-year-old girl. I saw eternity in her gaze and it shattered me as well as granted peace. She truly was a star. A never ending star.

“I love you, Clara. So very, very much,” I whispered, kissing her nose.

She sighed. “I’m tired. I’m just going to go to sleep now.” Clara shifted in my arms as another cough stole her last bit of air.

“When I grow up, I’ll never be sad or lonely or hungry. And I’ll make sure no one else suffers either.”

I had never held anything as precious as my daughter as her soul escaped and left behind a body that’d failed her. Something deep inside me knew the very moment she left, and I wanted nothing more than to follow.

My own soul wept and tore itself to smithereens at the thought of never hearing her giggle or see her smile again. There would be no more talk of growing up or planning a future that had barely begun.

It was like a candle snuffing out. A snowflake melting. A butterfly crashing to earth. So many beautiful things all perishing and ceasing to exist in one cataclysmic soundless moment.

I didn’t shout. I didn’t curse. There was nothing to fight anymore.

It was over.

My daughter was dead, and Fox hadn’t moved a muscle. His heavy hand stayed on her head, fingers playing with strands of faded hair.

Silent tears glided down my cheeks. I never stopped rocking, holding the last warmth of my daughter’s body.

“Mummy, would you be sad if I left?” The memory came from nowhere and I curled in on myself with pain. “Yes, sweetheart. I’d be very sad. But you know how to stop me from feeling sad, don’t you?”