Page 176 of Unravelling The Beast

As I talk, I sniffle and wipe my tears away.

"Did he ever tell you why he did it?"

When my tearful eyes meet hers, she gives a slight nod.

"He claimed you were softening as a result of her, and he feared you would leave our world to become someone he didn't want you to be. That's probably what he feared with Wren as well."

My body starts to tremble with rage, and I just want to tear this whole fucking room to pieces to let out some of the miserable fucking emotions I don't want to feel right now.

I speak as I approach the door.

"I need to go."

I storm out without saying anything else.

After stopping at a liquor store, I sit in my car until the sun sets, drinking whiskey near the cemetery where my wife is buried.

I pour the amber liquid down my throat repeatedly, attempting to relieve the agony in my chest, but I begin to fear that no amount of alcohol will ever be able to heal it.

I toss the bottle onto the seat next to me when I'm feeling wavy, grab the bunch of red roses I bought for her, and open the door beside me.

I stagger out, wipe my tear-stained face with my tank, then straighten up and head towards the entrance. I haven't been here since her funeral because I couldn't bear facing her again. What the fuck am I doing?

I take a slow, shaky approach towards her gravestone, and when I see it from a distance, I come to a halt. As I stare at it, my eyes mist with tears again, and my heart ratequickens. In dread, I turn around swiftly and prepare to go back out, but I pause for a second to gather my thoughts.

This is something you must do, Arlo, you big fucking pussy. Go face her.

I clamp my eyes tight, forcing more tears to cascade down my cheeks, and I throw my head back, heavily inhaling the chilly air. When I reopen my eyes and gaze forward, I turn around and resume my gradual walk towards her headstone.

When I'm finally in front of her, I gaze down at her clean resting place, which I've always made sure was well-kept. My tearful eyes move to her black marble headstone, and my cloudy vision scans the words.

Here lies Bridget Sophia Hayes. A much-loved wife, daughter, and mother.

I immediately feel a sob build in my throat, my heart collapsing as I sink to my knees with a weep before resting my forehead on the ground.

"I'm fucking sorry, Bridge. I'm fucking sorry."

My head is bursting with memories of us together. Memories of her short time with Cree. Memories of when we married, when we first met, and when she gave birth to our son.

I shake my head as I cry into the soil and speak in hushed tones.

"I'm hoping you'll forgive me. I would never harm you intentionally. I love and miss you every single day, and I've done nothing but deceive you."

Suddenly, I hear a bird chirping nearby, which shakes me out of my dark state. I cautiously raise my head to see where it is, and when I discover it's a goldfinch perched precisely on top of her tombstone, eyeing me, my heartbeat freezes.

I stare at it in disbelief because it's the same bird Bridge used to paint in the yard on warm summer evenings. It cocks its head to the side, tweets briefly, and then flies away. I stare in shock, wondering if that was any indication of forgiveness—her attempting to tell me something I needed to hear all along and I find comfort in it.

With a sniffle, I sit back on my knees and carefully place the bouquet of red roses by her headstone. I sit in silence until it's dark, staring at her grave, lost in reflection, the fear of being here gone, and I feel myself calming down.

When I'm ready to go, I lean over and place a delicate kiss on her headstone before resting my forehead on it and whispering.

"We both love and miss you terribly.You will always be a huge part of our lives, and I promise to never forget or stop loving you, Bridge. Regardless of how circumstances change, you'll always have a special place in my heart, and your spirit will always live on in our son. Until we meet again."

I place another lingering kiss on her grave before standing on unsteady legs. I cast one more glimpse back at her over my shoulder before turning and walking slowly to my car.

It's late in the evening, and Arlo is still not home, and I start to worry and wonder if he's okay. I return from his walk-in closet, where I found one of his t-shirts to throw on, as I only have a couple of outfits here because most of my clothing is still at home.

I fall onto his bed and lie on top of the duvet, looking down at my phone beside me, debating whether to call Lily. I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find her number and push the call button.

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