Page 15 of Crimson Flames

We may have survived, but I know none of us will ever be the same again.

After a few minutes, the nurse leaves with a piece of my heart in her hands. I find that I can no longer hold back the pain. Instead of sitting next to Nessa, I get into the large bed and lay at her side while I let it all out.

My nose runs, tears soaking the blankets under us, but I keep my hand on Nessa, directly over the spot she had to say goodbye to our daughter.

We will never get to know her. We won’t hear her laughter or get to calm her sorrow. I will never get to kiss her boo-boos orhold her hand again. I won’t get to argue with Boris over how we’ll do her hair or fight to be the one that holds her at night.

All of that was stripped away from us with the sound of a single gunshot. Out of the corner of my eye, the tears subside long enough for me to see Boris walking to the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

He doesn't answer. But he doesn’t turn back either.

“She’s going to need you. She’s going to need both of us when she wakes up.”

Finally, he turns and I can already see his decision is made.

“My world only brings both of you pain. I try to ensure the safety of those I love, but I am constantly reminded that happiness is not an option for me. Because of that, neither of you will be able to be happy if I am in the equation.”

If my jaw could fall to the floor it would.You might need to hold me back, because I am about to strangle this man. Didn’t we already go through this once?

“Coward,” I bite out as he opens the door.

“For once, Kid, I agree with you.”

Chapter 5

As I drive back to our house, I find that I feel less and less like myself with every minute that passes.

I am used to being in control, calculated even. I think before I act and always plan ten steps ahead. This has prevented my organization from spiraling and my brain from becoming too overwhelmed to keep up with my schedule.

However, the loss of control I have in my life now makes me feel like a train trying to push forward with no tracks. There is nothing to grip onto. There is no clear path ahead.

Holding the hand of my baby girl, while she laid lifeless in Cillian’s arms, killed me. Part of my soul will never come back from this. It will forever be tainted with sorrow and grief.

I pull up to the house and head directly to the garage, wanting to bypass any of the kids at this time of the morning. They are likely sleeping, and I do not wish to wake them.

Instead, I decide to do something to distract my mind. Cutting the engine, I make a mental list of all of the tasks that need to be completed.

At least if I can focus on this, then I am not thinking about the reason my heart is lying obliterated on the floor of a hospital room.

Clean the kitchen. Do the dishes. Do not think about the cupcakes.

Wipe the counters. Sweep the floors. Do not think about the cupcakes.

Vacuum under the cabinets. Clean out the sink. Throw away the cupcakes. Do not allow yourself to think about the fucking cupcakes.

Once the list is fortified and I have gone through it at least ten times, I get out of the car. Refusing to even so much as think until I hit the kitchen, I push my mind into a blank space where nothing exists. No emotions, no death or life. Just nothingness.

Yet, when I walk into the room and flick on the lights, I can’t help but think of the last time I was here.

No. Think of nothing. Just nothing.

Swiftly, I pull out the cleaning supplies from the cabinet and prepare myself for my list of tasks. Where there is structure, there is sense.

The moment my hand touches the plate holding perfectly frosted cupcakes, my mind floods me with the past.

Just think of nothing. Don’t let it get to you. Nothing. Nothing.

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