The Fall(89)

“Michael!” Sofia yelled, forcing me to look where Franco’s gun was pointed.

He turned his hand away from Sofia and angled it right at me.

Good, that was a better place for it.

I’d done so many things in my life, seen so many things that could never be unseen. And I was ready for the ride to stop.

I’d welcomed the fall once before but I hadn’t been ready, this time I needed to do something right for the first time in my life. Not because I suddenly believed in the bullshit lie that there was something for me after, but because I needed to give it to her.

I would save her and take those bullets, not because I’d given her my word, but because I owed her. Sofia showed me the truth even when I didn’t want to see it.

And for giving me the first moments of peace I had ever had.

Even if they were going to be my last.

“Rose was my mother, you cocksucker. Which as much as I hate to admit it, makes you my father. And guess what *? I may not have known her but she obviously knew you. And I guess she knew me too. Because I’d rather die than continue your f*cking legacy.”

It was automatic, my right hand squeezing the trigger and the bullet spiraled out of the barrel.

I was sure I made contact; positive as I felt the impact of a bullet traveling in the opposite direction hit me.

It burned, the blood spilling out of me as my vision started to fade. The echo of guns firing bounced off the confined walls; the only thing louder was the screaming.

There were voices above me, but I couldn’t see.

“Thank you, Sofia.” I wasn’t sure she had heard me, but I didn’t have anything left in me to say it louder.

The darkness was coming faster than it ever had, wrapping my body like a blanket and taking me away with it.

There was no fear.

No pain.

No regret.

And as my lungs rattled in my chest, I felt it for the first time.

Freedom.





Thirty years ago there had been a storm.

The heavens had opened up and the earth had trembled, and fear had been struck into the hearts of those who had to endure it.

Not because of the relentless rain that had drowned the Chicago streets and the thunder that had shaken the walls. But because that storm, hadn’t been the only one that had come that day.

An expectant mother was weathering her own storm. Her body failing as it fought bravely, the love for her unborn child the only thing that kept her heart going. Just holding on long enough to give birth to a son.

She knew it would be a boy; he would have his father’s eyes and her smile and despite the sadness that had surrounded his creation, he would only have the best of them. There had been a time where his father had been kind and loved her, where his embrace had made her feel safe, and those were the things that she knew would be imparted.

And her son’s heart, his heart, would eventually find its way back to hers. Because that was the only way she could bare it, unable to face the prospect of saying goodbye forever.

And if she had to leave before she could ever hold him—give her life for his—she would do it a million times over. Because that’s what a mother did, love her baby beyond her own mortality even before he took his first breath.

Forever.

She would love him forever.

But thirty years wasn’t long enough, and she would have more time to wait before she would see her son again.

Because she had indeed given the very best parts of herself to him. And the muscle in his chest continued to beat long after it should have stopped, finding its own will when it seemed that all was lost. In that moment, he had been more her son than he’d ever been, and whether he knew it or not, embraced her resilience to survive.

“Sofia,” he mumbled, the oxygen mask against his face making it difficult for him to speak. “Safe?”

“Shhhhhhh.” A nurse gently moved her fingers against his arm in an attempt to comfort him, hoping this time her touch wouldn’t upset him. She had learned the first time she had done it that he didn’t like it, and was trying to resist her instinct to soothe. “You’re safe.”

He heard the voice of a woman but didn’t know who it was. The cadence was wrong and the pitch was slightly off, and she didn’t sound like Sofia. He tried to open his eyes, needing answers as to where she was but that fog around his head hung heavy. It was an effort that seemed beyond him, his eyelids just able to stretch a tiny bit so that he could hope to see where he was.

There was too much light, the brightness burning his retinas so that he only saw shapes. He squinted, hoping to make out the owner of the voice but she was hidden by a sepia aura distorting his vision.

“Sofia?” he asked again, the muscles in his neck straining as he tried to lift his head off the pillow. “Where. Is. She?”

Each word was broken into its own sentence as they battled against his need to breathe. He wasn’t going back to sleep until he knew, until he was certain that she was here too.

“Michael.” He heard his name, and for a second he thought it was her. But even though her voice was kind, she was too young. “Are you coming back to us, Michael?”

He couldn’t fight anymore, the effort exhausting him as he lowered his head back down on the pillow and concentrated on breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

The mask made it easier, the steady push of oxygen making him slightly dizzy, so he closed his eyes but he forced himself to stay awake.