Page 129 of Borden 3

Hearts needed to be healed.

Peace needed to be made.

And sometimes, war had to end in tragedy so a hero could be laid to rest.

Resolute, Borden raised his gun, aiming at him. “Theo.”

Theo turned. “What?”

Borden pulled the trigger.

Chapter Forty-Six

Emma

Past

The porch light was on.

I collapsed on the porch, staring up at it. Even when I left her, even when I said goodbye to her, she kept the light on.

She had hoped.

Her hope in me never faded. Never once. She loved me purely, through the hurt and the pain. She had weathered my storm and she had never once given up on me.

It was a profound moment for me, looking up at the porch light.

When I found the strength to walk through that door, I knew I would never be the same Emma again. The broken, lost girl had found herself, and it wasn’t when the dust had settled. She had found herself in the midst of chaos and pain. In the midst of heartbreak that was balanced out by the unwavering love of her grandmother.

My backpack slipped from my shoulders, landing on the ground with a thud. My steps were slow as I walked down the small corridor and found her in the same spot I’d left her.

She was on the couch, her back to me. She had been distraught. There were tissues everywhere. Her reading glasses were on the floor. A photo album of me was opened up beside her.

“Granny,” I whispered.

She was still awake. She turned her shining eyes at me and let out a cry. It wasn’t a sad one. She clutched her heart as she stood up and came to me. She might have fallen to the floor at my feet and hugged me, but I was determined never to look down at her again. I dropped to the ground with her, burying myself in her chest.

I felt like a little girl again.

She was rocking me back and forth in the darkness, and the monsters were at bay, hidden all around. She was the light driving them further away, and I was the little girl clinging to her granny like she was her hero.

And granny was.

She was my hero, and I had to go through hell and come out the other side to realise that.

She took me in.

She fought for me.

And in my rage, I tried to push her away because I wanted to see her give up. I needed proof that the world was black and there was no hope in humanity. That nobody truly cared.

I was so utterly wrong.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“My beautiful girl, my sweet Emma, I love you.”

This was where I needed to be. Where I wanted to be.

---