Page 61 of Eternally London

He is sitting in his wheelchair at the foot of his bed, facing me. He’s drenched in sweat. His eyes are red, puffy, and tired. His knuckles are white, and his arm quivers as he holds a handgun under his chin. The trajectory of the bullet would be directly in line with his brain.

“Tommy, please.” I hold out my hands, my palms toward him, begging him to stop. “Let’s just take a moment to talk this out. This isn’t what you want to do. This won’t solve anything.” I take a small step toward him.

“Stop!” he cries, pulling the gun from his skin and directing it at me. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m here to help you. Talk to me, Tommy. We can fix this.”

Keeping the gun pointed in my direction, he points to his missing legs with his free hand. “You can fix this?” Then, he points to the side of his head, tears streaming down his face. “You can fix this?”

“I can help you.”

“You can’t. No one can. You can’t stop the images from coming. I see them. I see their faces. I see their families’ faces. There’s a nightmare playing in my head twenty-four hours a day, and it won’t stop. You can’t make it stop.”

“I’ve been there, Tommy. I know what that’s like. You can beat it. This isn’t the end for you.”

“I can’t do it anymore. I tried. I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired of fighting. I want the pain to end. I can’t. I can’t,” he sobs, shaking his head.

“You can. Let me help you, Tommy.” I take another small step toward him.

“I said, stop!” he yells. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Please let me help you. I promise, it will get better,” I plead.

“It won’t,” he says, his eyes void of all hope. “It won’t.”

The gun is still aimed in my direction. His arm shakes, and the gun vibrates in his hand.

“It will. Put the gun down. Let’s talk it out.”

“Talk doesn’t do shit,” he huffs.

“It’s a start. We’ll figure out what will help. Okay? You’re not alone. I’ll fight this with you.”

I take another step toward him, and everything happens so fast.

The deafening bang rattles, too powerful for this small space. The forceful shock wave sends a warm gush of air and vibrations throughout the room. The floor shakes below my feet.

The tiny metal assassin pierces my skin so quickly that I don’t feel pain, just immense pressure. I fly back, my arms flailing out. My back hits the ground hard, and my head lands so forcefully that I lose my sight. Everything slowly slips away from me. All I see is blackness, and all I hear is a formidable buzzing in my ears. The humming quiets. In the deep recesses of my mind, I beg the noise to stay, but it fades.

I think of London and Lindi, but I can’t see their faces. And then they’re gone.

It’s all gone.

London

“My dreams could never be complete without Loïc. It’s because of him that such beautiful dreams exist.”

—London Berkeley

“You’re the cutest,” I gush.

Lindi is wearing a baby-blue dress. I tied matching bows around the pigtails atop her head.

“The blue makes your eyes look so gorgeous,” I tell her even though I know she couldn’t care less.

She’s focused on getting both of her baby dolls to stay in the plastic stroller designed for one baby.

“Mommy should have gotten you a stroller for two babies. What was I thinking?” I help her position her dollies, so they both stay in.

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