Page 68 of Fight for Me

I slowly go to a place where my body no longer exists, and I’m at peace, slipping into the black abyss.

Epilogue

JENNY - 1 YEAR LATER

I wake up with a gasp, and look at my hands, expecting to see blood streaming between my fingers. When all I see is ivory skin illuminated by the stream of morning light, I breathe in relief, realizing that it was just another nightmare. Or more like a memory when it comes to those kinds of dreams I’ve been having.

I turn my head to the side and frown at the empty, cold place next to me. With a sigh, I sit down and lower my legs to the cold floor. The sensation takes me back in time for a moment, and I glare at the harsh surface.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, feeling unsettled. I get to my feet with a groan, and step out of the bedroom, to check on Henry.

When I see that his bed is empty, I peek into the bathroom, only to realize that it’s empty too. I instantly feel my blood pressure rising.

“Henry?” I call, and my voice echoes around the house, but no answer follows.

I move to the staircase and descend carefully, realizing that it’s even colder downstairs.

“Are you here?” I ask, and look around, feeling my heartbeat increase with each passing second of silence.

“Calm down,” I berate myself under my breath, but it does nothing to halt my rising panic as I search through the kitchen and living room, and find the whole house vacant.

“No. Where are you?” I mutter and tug on my hair, looking frantically around. “This can’t be happening.”

Blinded by the fear, I go barefoot through the back sliding door to step on the newly built, but unfinished, terrace, searching for Henry. Logically, I know, he couldn’t reach the doorknob to let himself outside, but still, I survey the quiet area around the house, and call for him again.

Now, almost fully swallowed by the need to find my missing child, I reach out my hand toward the railing, and try to walk down the half-built staircase frame, when I register a sharp pain in my right hand.

I look down in shock at the protruding nail that pierced my skin, then wail in distress, when I see a single stream of blood flowing down my palm and onto my fingers, before it drops onto the fresh wood.

Just like in my dream. Just like that day when...

I’m not even sure when I collapsed onto the cold wooden boards, but the fog starts to slowly clear from my mind as I stare at my bleeding hand, when the familiar sound of a cane tapping on the floor reaches my ear.

“Sweetheart?” Brody calls from the house.

“Here...” I say, but it comes out raspy and weak, so, I take a deep breath and say louder. “I’m here.”

---