Page 74 of Abigail's King

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kye

Iwasn’t sure how long I had been sitting here. Going by the number of empty bottles on the floor, it had been a while. I had made my decision earlier today: today would be my last day on earth. The voices had stopped long ago. In their wake, just silence, depression, and despair. Three hours ago, I had walked over to my cabinet, opened the door, and retrieved one of my handguns. As yet, though, I hadn’t pulled the trigger. I’d just sat here trying to establish the best place to put the bullet. Even if I did pull the trigger, I’d probably only cause myself excruciating pain, as I would probably miss. I was far too drunk to be in charge of a gun, after all.

I heard a door open somewhere in the house and my name being called.

This was it. My past had finally caught up with me. The Reaper, whoever that would be, had finally come to take my soul. I heard footsteps around the house, but I never moved. Partly because I wanted someone to do the one thing I couldn’t, and also because if I stood right now, I would just collapse on the floor. I took a drag from my cigarette. I always thought these things would kill me in the end. Always thought that I was one step ahead of my past, that I had escaped death too many times for it to find me yet. But here I was, waiting for it to appear.

I heard footsteps come into the room. A voice I recognised, but couldn’t place, softly spoke my name.

“Ricardo?”

It was more of a question than a statement. Still, I sat here, gun at my temple, smoking my cigarette. The footsteps got closer, and eventually the figure walked around in front of the chair. I looked up and saw my past standing in front of me.

However, it was not one of the many men I had expected to come for me eventually. It was far worse. It was the man I had once called my best friend. The man I had called my brother. The one that had saved me from this precise position over eighteen years ago. My best friend, Davi.

I saw the shock and anger on his face as he looked down at me. I couldn’t look him in the eyes for long; the shame and embarrassment I was feeling was too much. I cast my gaze back down to the floor to the exact position he was standing.

“What the fuck, Ricardo? Why haven’t you answered my calls? I could have helped you. And what the hell were you going to do with that gun?”

I just sat there, looking down at the floor. But as I did, the pain and despair I had been feeling started to manifest themselves into anger. He had no idea of what I had gone through these past eighteen years. The past couple of months. He was standing there saying he could have helped. Well, where had he been the past eighteen years? Why had he never reached out before now?

I was better off without all of them. I might as well end it now. What would he care? No one cared. I looked up and met his eyes. I could see he was taken aback for a second. The look of desperation was gone in my eyes and replaced with anger.

I repositioned the gun at my temple, the exact spot that I knew would be most effective, and looked him dead in the eyes. I expected him to take a step back to try to talk me out of it. But he didn’t. He stood there and smiled. I was about to take my fucking life, and he was smiling at me.

“Go on, Ricardo. Do it. Pull the fucking trigger and end your life. Is that what you want? To die like a coward? Oh, I know pulling that trigger isn’t easy, but it’s still easier than facing everything, isn’t it? How about your family? How do you think they will feel when I tell them the prodigal son that returned home went and killed himself? What about me? Does it even bother you, the nightmares I would have after seeing you do it? No, you don’t give a shit, do you? It was always about you, Ricardo. Everything was about you. So go on, do it.”

What the fuck?! He knew nothing about what I had been through. Of course, I fucking cared about them all. The anger in me was starting to rise even more, and I could feel my nails biting into my palm the harder I clenched. A small trickle of blood started to run down, and I couldn’t hold back my words anymore. He had no right to judge me. Only God had that right, and I wasn’t fucking dead yet.

“You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through, Davi. The things I have seen and done over the past eighteen years. The nights I have sat there drinking just to stop the nightmares. What I have lost because of it. You have no fucking idea.”

I tried to get up from my seat, but the alcohol inhibited normal actions. That, along with the fact that I was suddenly shoved back into the chair by the man I had once called my friend.

“Sit the fuck back down. You are going to sit there and listen to me whether you like it or not, Ricardo. No, I don’t know what you have been through. No one does except you. And do you want to know why? Because you would never tell anyone. You would never speak to someone and let all of that hate, anger, and pain out. You needed help. You still need help. But you won’t fucking admit it to yourself. So go ahead and pull the trigger. Do it while I am standing here. Let me see you die.”

The anger I was feeling started to turn into pain and sorrow again as I let the words he was saying sink in.

He was right, just as Mateus was. I had always needed help. I just turned the darkness I had been feeling from a hindrance to an advantage as a mercenary. But I had never faced my fears. I wasn’t facing them now. I was taking the easy route out. Although I had realised it wasn’t as easy as I had thought. It was meant to be simple. Sit here and pull the trigger. End it all in one fell swoop. But every time I went to do it, I saw her face smiling up at me like on our first night together. Every fucking time, she was there. Even apart, she was my light, and I had cast her away.

Davi must have noticed the change in my demeanour because when he spoke again, it was softer than before. His anger was gone and replaced with sympathy.

“Ricardo, you need to get help, or at least talk to someone. We cannot help you if you don’t help yourself. Drinking yourself into oblivion and holding a gun to your head isn’t going to solve things. You haven’t pulled the trigger yet, and that must be telling you something.”

He was right. There was a reason why I hadn’t done it, but there was nothing I could do to get her back. Finally, I spoke.

“It’s too late, Davi. I made her go. She won’t ever come back.”

“Who, Ricardo? Who did you tell to go?”

“My Bonita. My Abigail. The woman I love.”

As soon as I said the words, the tears I thought had long left me started to fall again. I was back to the man I had been before she left. The despair and pain were back, and I didn’t know how to stop. I pulled the gun from my head and dropped it on the floor, my hands coming up to my face as the tears continued to fall. My whole body was shaking from the crying, and I didn’t know what to do. Davi must have picked up the gun and placed it back in the cabinet, as I heard the door shut and lock.

“At least you have admitted you love her to yourself. Now let’s get you sorted. You look as though you haven’t been near a shower for days. Once you have freshened up, we can get the place tidied up a bit. Then once you have slept, you can come down to the community hall tomorrow. Me and the band are getting together. It would be nice if you joined us.”

I wasn’t sure I could deal with seeing people at the moment. The thought that everyone would be judging me and the life I had led…it filled me with fear.

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