Page 148 of Rugger: The Huntress

He placed a hand on his chest and began looking around as if he would magically appear. I wished those odds were in both of favor, but they weren’t.

“He’s not here and he– he won’t be coming here. Not ever,” I revealed.

My heart shattered continuously with each word I spoke.

“Your son, the love of my life– he’s dead, Solomon.”

I swallowed the lump of pain in my throat. His eyes swelled twice their size. He stumbled backward a full foot. The news had knocked the wind from his chest. He tried but couldn’t release as much as a syllable.

“I must go now. Be well. Rest knowing that Psalms cared for you deeply and missed you more than you’d ever understand. His absence wasn’t a choice he made lightly. It was a choice he made to protect you. Just like me, you were a weakness for him.Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who knew that. And, it cost him his life.”

I didn’t wait for a response because I knew there wouldn’t be one. With my head low and my eyes toward the ground, I exited the yard and climbed into the truck where Aden was waiting. He was the only reason Chemistry agreed to my visit to the States so soon.

Though he’d been assured I was in the clear and my name hadn’t surfaced on any databases, he was still taking precautions. He’d sent the message and it had been received. If I was touched, Clarke wouldn’t remain standing. It would be a mere blemish on the Huffington map.

“Next stop,” he asked as he settled in the front seat.

“Yes.”

I leaned my head against the window, praying the pain away. I’d advise my worst enemy that death was easier than this. It had to be.

Instrumentals played in the background as I melted into the leather. Though it was sunny out, gloom clouded my vision. Despair sealed my lids. It wasn’t until the wheels of the armored truck stopped that I reopened them.

“Rugger,” Aden called out, “We have arrived.”

I lifted my head to find that we had indeed arrived. However, the idea of exiting the SUV was far more attainable than the action. Defeat claimed my limbs every day and every night.

“Okay.”

I allowed my neck to support the weight of my head. When Aden snatched the door open, I slid out and into the open air. One foot after the other, I made my way toward the employee entry of the office. I was met by Pipa, Roaman’s college roommate. She, too, had finished school before her peers and was on campus years sooner than the majority of her class.

“Ms. Childers,” she greeted me, “It’s been a while.”

Silently, I followed her down the hallway into an empty room.

“There’s a restroom to the left. You’ll need this when you go inside. Put it in the tray near the small window. We’ll take care of the rest. Strip down to your socks and put on the robe provided. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

She disappeared shortly after giving instructions. I stepped into the restroom and removed the cap from the cup. By the time I finally got my pants down, my bladder was begging to be emptied. I filled the cup halfway before allowing the toilet bowl to collect the rest of my urine.

I cleaned my hands and pulled my pants up on my hip once I was finished. I screwed the lid on the cup and placed it in the small window as instructed. When I returned to the room, I stripped down from head to toe, leaving my socks on.

I fastened the plastic strings of the robe in front of me and climbed on top of the bed. My Beretta was clutched in my right hand as I laid all the way back. My left hand lowered onto my stomach.

I’d learned that God had a good time laughing at any and every plan we made for ourselves. This time, I was hoping he hadn’t made a bigger fool of me than I already felt he had with Sonnie’s death.

My PCOS diagnosis at twenty-two decreased my chances of fertility by ninety percent. My period was abnormal. Since puberty, I’d only had five of them in total. I didn’t produce nearly as many eggs as the average woman.

Cysts crowded around my ovaries. They were practically useless. My chances of motherhood were slim to none which I was perfectly fine with. The birth control I consumed monthly was an extra layer of protection and a means of regulating my hormones so I didn’t experience rapid weight gain, substantial hair growth in places women didn’t usually experience growth,mental health issues, and a host of other problems caused by cystic ovaries.

The idea of children didn’t support my lifestyle. They’d only slow me down. Cement me. Root me. Keep me grounded in places and at times I wanted nothing more than to be free, roam freely, think freely, and decide freely.

Don’t start your shit today, Lord.

The twenty-four sickness wasn’t a part of my grief, which was why I hid the symptoms from those around me as best I could. I chose solitude over the village that was prepared to gather and grieve alongside of me.

I am– I’m no more good. I can’t take another blow, Lord.

I closed my eyes as a tear slid down the right side of my face. I swiped it quickly and began the wait for my physician.

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