The Fall(85)

“Is that it?” My eyes fell to the floor when my father’s eyes were closing, everything around him being stained red.

“Yeah, if he isn’t already dead, it will happen in about another minute.” He looked down at my father. “I think he’s already gone.”

I wasn’t in a white dress, but my dark blue jeans and black hooded sweatshirt were covered in blood just like in the dream. My hands were also stained, as whatever was left on the blade continued to run down my hand.

It wasn’t that I regretted it, because I didn’t. He needed to die and it needed to be by my hand. But there was no instant relief. Like I expected some weight to be lifted off my shoulders and that didn’t happen. I guess that was because the job was only half done. There was still one more man who needed to go before I would feel free. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get to him without Michael trying to stop me.

“We need to go, now.” Michael took the knife from my hand and wiped it on my father’s comforter. It was mostly clean when he slid it back into the sheath on my thigh. “Just in case.” He nodded, twisting my body so I was facing the door. “Now, walk.”

My body clicked into automatic, my feet moving one in front of the other until they were at the doorway. Hands functioned when they were supposed to, opening the door, my legs carrying me out of the room until I was out in the hall. Michael took care of closing the door, or at least I assumed, seeing it was shut and I didn’t think I had done it.

We’d only gone five steps.

Five steps before I heard the door open. No, my father wasn’t the second coming like he had thought he was, his dead body not resurrecting from the bloody pile where we’d left it. It was another door.

“James?”

The light from my mother’s bedroom spilled out into the hall, her slippered feet carrying her out of her room with barely a sound.

“Oh, f*ck,” Michael whispered behind me, his hand giving my arm a squeeze before I heard it reach for his other gun.

“No,” I blew out of my mouth in a rush, praying he wouldn’t hurt her. As much as I used to despise her compliancy, I realized now she had been a victim in this too. She was just doing what she needed to survive. Unlike me, she didn’t have a choice to leave.

“Sofia?” My mother’s kohl rimmed eyes squinted, her irises so glassy I wasn’t sure she could see at all.

“Mama, it’s okay.” I took a tentative step forward, the open palm behind my back the only hold-on I could give Michael. “Go back to bed.”

“What happened to you?” She lifted her hand to her mouth as she took in my appearance, traveling the length of my body. “Were you in an accident? There is so much blood.”

“I’m fine, Mama.” I moved as close as I could without touching her. “Please, go lay down and go to sleep.”

Lord knows how many sedatives she’d taken, a lot given her unsteadiness on her feet and even with the limited light I could see the dilation of her pupils. With any luck she wouldn’t remember a thing by morning. The encounter explained away as a weird Valium induced dream that was brought on by the grief.

“Did you die, Sofia?” She stood still, her chest moving slowly as she looked at me with pain in her eyes. “Your father told me that . . . you died.”

“Yes, Mama.” I struggled against the lump in my throat. “I died.” My chest tightened as I fought the urge to cry, unimaginable pain ripping through my heart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be here for you. I’m sorry you had to do this alone.”

“Beautiful child, no.” She opened her arms wide, inviting an embrace. But I didn’t move, my heart breaking that I couldn’t touch her. “Did you feel pain, did it hurt?” Her eyes pooled with tears as her arms closed around herself, the hug I’d rejected given to herself.

“No, there was no pain.” I shook my head as my own eyes started to water, the words harder and harder to speak. “There is no pain where I am.” I swallowed hard and took a breath. “There is a beautiful field, full of cornflowers and the sun shines all the time. I’m free now.”

“Sofia. We need to—”

“Who is this man?” My mother’s eyes widened as they fixed on Michael.

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, her body recoiling as his large frame appeared beside mine. He had waited as long as he was going to.

“Is he the one who killed you?” Her fingers made the sign of the cross as she took a step back.

“No, he has protected me.” The strangled words made their way up my throat. “He has kept me safe, Mama. This is Michael and he is a good man.”

“Well thank you, Michael.” She struggled a little but managed to tug the edges of her sad mouth into a smile. “For taking care of my beloved.”

“You’re.” Michael looked at me and then my mother before clearing his throat. “You’re welcome.”

His head jerked to the stairs we still had to descend, calmly indicating our time was running out. He went first, carefully hiding the gun he still held in his hand under his arm as he backed away from us. And as much as it hurt to leave, I turned and followed. Muscle memory was the only thing controlling my limbs, doing what I couldn’t as they carried me away. Every stride killing me that I had just convinced my mother I had died.