Page 100 of His to Bedevil

Remembering that we have an audience, I turn around as if unfazed and take my seat again. Irma has her head back and her eyes closed. Her headphones are in, and I can hear the music blaring from them. I can’t believe this is it. This is how we are going to spend our last moments together. I’ve never been so carped by her recalcitrance and defiance before. Always admired it. But right now, I wish she would accede and see that I’m doing the right thing and make our last moments together count. To say a proper goodbye.

I just want to give her a life she never got the chance to have. A normal one. A safe one. I have to believe she’ll see that eventually; otherwise, this was all for nothing.

We land in Colorado late at night. I told her of the destination over an hour ago when she finally removed her headphones, and she gave me no response or reaction. I thought Colorado was good for her. She loves adventure, and this state has great opportunities for that. Plus, she can go to Aspen whenever she wants.

The drive from the private airport is about an hour away, and she still hasn’t said a word to me or even looked at me. She’s said nothing since she ordered her second bottle of champagne from the stewardess. I didn’t have the energy to cut her off. And she hasn’t looked at me since she wiled me into taking my ring off and flushed it down the toilet. I’m still reeling from that. It was the one thing I planned to keep, and she took it from me. I know this is all my doing, but I’m still so pissed at her. Why can’t she see that this is a good thing? That I don’twantto do this. It’s something that I have to do. I have to let her go.

When we pull up to her new apartment building, I have three guards go ahead of us to make sure it’s safe. “What’s the point? I’ll be on my own as soon as you leave,” she says dryly without looking at me. I choose to ignore her and wait patiently for them to tell us it’s all clear.

As soon as they do, Irma is first to hop out of the car. I follow suit and so does Berto. He hangs back a few feet to try and give us a little privacy, or perhaps to stay clear of the vitriolic situation. Irma stops at the entrance when she realizes she doesn’t have a key or anything. Berto comes up and hands her the access key. She snatches it from him then scans it to allow us access. “Tenth floor,” Berto states.

“Perfect,” she says. “Let’s take the stairs.”

Berto and I both exchange a look as we follow her to the door next to the elevators that says “Stairs.” As we enter the stairwell, she peels off her hoodie and shoves it in her backpack. I want to grab her backpack from her to carry it, but I know damn well how that will go.

It takes about ten minutes to climb the stairs at a steady pace, and since we’re all in good shape, it wasn’t bad. We barely worked up a sweat. But it was still irritating as all hell.

“1012,” Berto says as soon as we enter the hall.

We continue to follow Irma’s lead as she takes us to her door. This is it. Berto pulls out a key ring with a few keys and hands it into her waiting hand. She unlocks both locks and steps through the door. As I take a step forward, she spins around and blocks the doorway. “Please do not taint my new apartment with your dark energy by stepping a foot into it.” She looks up at me, her wide eyes insolent and daring, and I want to shut her up by kissing the hell out of her. I want to grovel at her feet and tell her this was all a big mistake. That I love her and that I’ll keep her safe. But how can I promise her that when twice her life was put in danger with me? Twice she almost died.

Instead, I give her one last pained look and turn away while I still can. I have to physically force myself to keep moving my feet as I head back for the stairs because I can’t stand in front of the elevator and wait for it. I slam open the door and put one foot in front of the other. Moving on autopilot down the stairs. Away from Irma. Away from the love of my life. That was our goodbye.

Irma

“Please do not taint my new apartment with your dark energy by stepping a foot into it.” I stare up at Alejo with the meanest glower I can muster, when I’m crumbling inside. He stares down at me, and all I see is pain and anguish in his eyes, but it doesn’t make sense. This is his choice, all his doing. He’s willingly giving me up and letting me go. He doesn’t even love me.

Please fight me. Please fight for me. Show me you care. Show me I’m wrong.

He doesn’t do any of that. His eyes roam my face one final time before he turns and walks away. I don’t face Berto until I hear a door slam open, notifying me that he entered the stairwell. I release a breath, and my shoulders sag. No longer able to keep up the facade.

Goodbye, Alejo.

Berto clears his throat and hands over a large envelope two inches thick. “This is everything for your new identity. Bank accounts and everything.” He pauses. “I wish you the best of luck, Fynn. I really do hope that you make the best of this new life you are gifted with.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He turns to leave, but I stop him. “Wait.” He turns back to me. “Will you please give Benita this?” I swallow the lump in my throat and extend the folded piece of paper to him. “Please tell her I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye to her in person.” I rapidly blink away my tears. “It was just too hard.”

He eyes the paper and gives me a sad smile and nods his head. “I can do that.”

“Without Alejo knowing,” I rush out. “I know your loyalty is to him, but just this once. Please. You can read it first if you feel it’s necessary, but please don’t allow Alejo to see it,” I practically beg him.

“Okay. I’ll make sure it gets right to Benita.” He pauses. “Goodbye, Fynn.”

“Goodbye, Berto,” I say quietly, and close the door, locking it for good measure.

I walk into the apartment in a complete daze. I disconnect myself, so that I won’t fall apart. Looking around, I notice that it’s fully furnished, but it doesn’t make it feel any less empty. I walk into the center of the living room and spin around. Vaulted ceilings and skylights. Neutral colors and a large TV. A big comfy couch and a fully stocked minibar. A nice big dining table to seat six with a centerpiece and place settings.For what? All the family and friends I plan to have over? Is this a fucking joke?

Walking over to the dining table, I stroke the plates that are displayed and ready for a dinner party. I hardly even know how to cook, and again. I. Have. No. One. I’m even more alone than before because Matches is dead. I can’t go back to what I used to do without him because I’m not a hacker. I can go back to petty theft if I really want to, but it’s not the same. Alejo took everything from me. He promised me so much and left me with nothing.

I pick up the fancy plate and stare at it for a long moment. Then, cranking my arm back, I fling it across the room with a scream and watch it shatter against the wall. I watch the pieces fall to the floor, and it’s as if I’m watching my own heart crumbling, and it gives me a tiny rush. I pick up another plate and chuck it, then another and another until there are no plates left. Looking around still seething, I stomp over to the lamp on the side table and pick that up and hurl it at the TV. I watch in satisfaction as it shatters against the screen and leaves the screen busted.

Slapping a hand over my mouth and clutching my stomach, I begin to sob. Falling to my knees and bowing my head forward, I let the sobs rack my body. I sob into my hand, muffling the sound, and squeeze my eyes shut. But it doesn’t stop the flow of tears. I choke on another sob, and soon my sobbing turns into weeping. I weep for the loss of the love of my life. For feeling like I wasn’t enough. For finding a family and for losing it. For losing Matches and for foolishly falling in love with Alejo. And most of all, I weep for the fact that I actually believed that he loved me back and thought I would never be alone again. Just like he promised me…

I cry myself to sleep there on the floor, and when I finally wake up, my body is stiff from the position I fell asleep in. It’s still dark outside, and when I look around, I find the time on the microwave in the open kitchen. It’s three a.m. here. I don’t even know what time it was when we arrived, so I don’t know how long I’ve been here.

I get up and drag my ass through the apartment, ignoring everything, and find a bedroom. Kicking my shoes off, I collapse on the bed face-first. It’s fluffy and soft, and I quickly fall back asleep. The day has drained me, and I just can’t think anymore. I’m heartbroken, and I have never felt more abandoned in my entire life.

Tomorrow, I have to wake up and figure out what to do with this lonely life I now lead.

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