The Fall(77)

I used to believe I was na?ve as a child, ignorant to my father’s life and what he did. But my real naivety was in my adult life. Things had never been black and white. And sometimes, murder was justified. Sometimes it was the only way out, and you just had to be strong.

I’d tried.

Believed there were other ways. But it all brought me back to here.

Here.

Where two men had ruined the lives of so many people, and I had the power to change that. To stop the cycle. To stop the pain.

I wouldn’t enjoy it, and my heart would still pray for forgiveness, but their blood would cleanse ours.

And I would do it.

And then finally we’d all be able to rest.

***

It was hours later.

I only knew because I occasionally checked the phone. With no reference of light, its bright digital display was my only connection to the outside world. Sleep impossible as I sat alone with my thoughts.

“Sofia?”

It was barely a whisper; the thump on the door confirming I hadn’t imagined it had been wind.

My legs bolted upright, sending my body vertical in a rush as I wrestled with the lock in the dark.

The door swung open, the morning light blinding me as my eyes fought to adjust. Sister Rachel didn’t speak, stepping inside the door and closing most of it so no one could see from the outside. She stood patiently as I fought against my falling eyelids.

“She’s gone,” she said when my vision finally returned.

“I know.”

We both stood for a while, just looking at each other, neither of us really knowing what to say.

“You can’t come back yet. There are too many people . . .” She took a breath. “It’s too risky.”

“I think it’s better if I don’t come back.” I swallowed, not knowing if I could walk past Sister Catherine’s room and not be eaten from the inside out by the guilt. “Do you think you can get me some supplies? Just a few things so I can stay out of sight for a couple of days. Once the attention dies down, I’ll move on.”

Mentally I’d been preparing the list for hours. Water. Candles or a flashlight. Some food. Just the basics. Ditching most of my clothes and moving to one bag was also the plan—the lighter, the easier it was going to be to move.

“Where will you go?” Her eyes widened as she reached for me. “Please just wait a little longer and then come back, she would have wanted you safe with us.”

“None of you are safe if I come back.” I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, I know I will be.”

“And what about Michael?” She tilted her head to the side. “What will we tell him when he comes looking for you?”

Other than last night, this was the first real conversation Sister Rachel and I had had since I’d arrived. I had no idea what she’d been told but obviously she knew the key players.

“Tell him that it was time for me to go and that I didn’t need a hero.” I sighed imagining how infuriated he would be when she told him. “And that I will be okay.”

“Give me a list of what you need; I’ll do my best to get it together, but I really wish you would reconsider.”

“Thank you, Sister Rachel, but I’ve already made up my mind.”

We made a plan for her to return in a few hours. She would bring food, water, a small kerosene lamp and notepad so I could write down a list of things that I needed. I hated being shut in again, the dark enveloping me as the door closed but I knew it would only be for a little while longer.

There needed to be a plan, one that helped me move around undetected. I assumed by now news of my death had spread. If my father bought the lie then he would have been compelled to play it out.

A funeral, a period of mourning—a wake. All the pomp and circumstance that was required to prove what a loving father he’d been. An obituary would have also been mandatory which meant my face would have been widely circulated. The department might have made their own announcement, the Chicago Tribune possibly running a story on my mysterious disappearance and death. Of course my father would never allow an investigation, he would grease whatever palms he needed and have my death ruled accidental. Possibly a car crash, it would explain the ashes. Or some freak natural occurrence that could be signed off by a coroner—there was always someone willing to take a stack of cash.

My stomach growled in the dark. The loud noise sounded like some kind of beast was trying to jailbreak from my belly. It had been hours since I’d eaten something, skipping dinner after the incident in the garden. Not that there was anything I could do about it now. Food, like everything else, would have to wait, but it gave me something other than my situation to think about.

When was she coming back?

I tried not to check my phone again, the hours seeming to go slower when I did. It wasn’t sure why I was struggling so much, I had been alone most of my life. But my thoughts had never been this dark. And I wondered if it was what was inside my head that was making me claustrophobic and not the room.

Finally there was a knock at the door. I pressed my ear against the metal but didn’t hear my name. It made me nervous but other than Sister Rachel, who else would know I was in here?

Just to be sure, I grabbed my gun, carefully sliding off the safety as I tentatively unlocked the door. There might not be a lot I could do if there was more than one person on the other side, but at least I could take one or two of them out before I went down.