TRIGGER WARNING
MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
Cold bouts of wind swept across the white sheet of snow coating the earth. The supports beams of the large, cottage-style house shivered, the imposing oak wood surface darkened in the abysmal realm of dark night. The full moon, blocked by a ceiling of clouds, pricked through the precipitation in fading rays, giving the clouds an iridescent quality, paradoxical in the way that they seemed to reflect hope.
Pools of blood soaked through the snow, body face-down, blue fingers still wrapped around the trigger. Each sight felt like a snapshot blended together with a flash of black spots and a stinging feeling.
Roman looked down at his abdomen again, removing his hand. Blood streamed out of the hole in his shirt and dripped in his lap. He removed napkins from the glove box and pressed his hand back down on the wound, thinking about what had just happened.
The man in the snow managed to land one shot after Roman stabbed him, and in any other circumstance, the wound would not have been fatal, but the engine refused to start, so he was left unable to do anything except turn on the radio.
Even if his scroll had not run out of battery, he was too far away from any communication towers to get reception. Roman groaned and tipped his head back, avoiding the thought of the inevitable.
A voice pierced through the silent cold and reached his ears. "Roman."
He lazily turned his head and looked to where the voice came from, in the seat next to him. There, Ruby sat, nonchalant, smiling at him.
"Ruby?" he asked.
"Hey, Roman," she said.
Roman turned in his seat, grunting as she shifted his torso. "How are you here?"
"I'm pretty fast. Remember?" She tipped her head. Her smile did not falter, but in her fashion, it was generous and warm.
"Even so, you can't outrun de—"
"Let's not talk about that, okay?" Ruby's smile faded into concern.
Roman rubbed his eyes, arm shaking as he lifted it. When he removed his hand, Ruby remained in the seat next to him, looking back.
"I'm still here," she said. "Don't worry, you're not crazy."
Roman reached for her hand, which she gave, unyielding. The warmth of her skin grew into his, but it paled, like she were a shadow of the woman he used to know.
"You're not real," he realized.
"Of course not," she responded, frowning. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you."
"What are you then?" Roman turned to fixate his eyes on the snow as it drifted down from the sky. He discovered immediately that the scene had changed, the downtown Vale city life sprawling across the streets shrouded in neon lights. He looked back at Ruby.
"I'm the Ruby you remember," she said. Her clothes had changed from her combat uniform to a dress she had worn on their very first date night. A spiraling, blood-red dress that crumpled in her seated position in the car. He remembered the way it flowed.
He looked down, hand still pressed to his stomach, and saw that he was wearing what he wore that night, too.
"Do you remember this night?" she asked.
"Of course," he mumbled, adrift in a string of consciousness. He reached out and raised the heater by two degrees.
"You told me you loved me," she said. When Roman looked back at her, she glowed, more than the way the lights flew across her skin when cars passed them. Her skin was positively radiant, as if just the words had breathed new life into her body.
"How could I forget?" he said. Tears sprung into his eyes. He felt no urge to restrain himself in front of her. That, or he was too exhausted to put any real effort into it. "But none of it matters anymore."
Ruby gave him a quizzical look. "Why not?"
"Because, Ruby," he tried to shout, "You're already dead."
The car became silent, neither of them even moving, stale air moving between them. The only thing that Roman could hear was the sound of hot air flitting over the vents.
Ruby frowned. "That doesn't matter to me."
"Oh, shut up," Roman turned away and closed his eyes. He had no desire to entertain this fantasy. Tears rolled down his cheek as he remembered.
"Roman," she said, her tone softened. "I don't want to upset you."
"Sucks to be me, then." Roman scrunched his eyes.
"Roman, please talk to me."
"Why?" he said.
Ruby sighed. "I don't want you to be so closed off."
"I've been that way my whole life," he said. Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew that he was too right. Their relationship had been strained by the fact that he would not just openly share her feelings with her; she would always have to pry and fight with him to get him to tell her what he was really feeling. If anything, feeling vulnerable in that kind of way was something dangerously different, and he would not have asked Ruby to do anything different. He wished that he had been more open with her, so every time she had asked him how he was feeling, he would not immediately guard himself and force her to act.
"I know," she said. "You tried to break up with me a couple of times."
Roman turned. "I did that to protect you. I was—am a criminal. I didn't want to ruin your life."
"Yeah," Ruby said, looking away from him. "But it wouldn't have made it any less painful."
"What, to give you freedom to live out a better life?"
"No," Ruby said, suddenly defiant. "To not even be with you when you died."
Roman closed his mouth and said nothing.
"Did you think I was an idiot?"
Roman shook his head.
"I knew that every time you tried to tell me it had to end that you were about to go risk your life again. For a person who prides themselves on being an excellent liar, you couldn't even mask that kind of despair on your face."
"I know," he muttered. "I just wanted you to be happy."
"Don't you get it?" Ruby exclaimed. "I was happy with you, but you kept trying to push me away and keep me out of your business when you thought it would kill you."
"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said. His cheeks were wet with his remorse.
"I know," she said. "But you didn't even ask me first. You never came to me with your problems. You should have trusted me."
Roman wiped his cheeks. "I did! More than anyone else I knew."
Ruby cast her eyes down. "But you didn't show it."
"Not like things would have turned out any differently."
"I know." Ruby fiddled with the fabric of her dress. "I just didn't want you to have any regrets."
"Too bad," he spat. "I have plenty because I should have been there to protect you and keep you safe, but I wasn't." Roman racked himself with sobs. "I kept the distance and tried to get you away from the danger, but it didn't help. I should have told you everything, I should have been there for you, and I should have saved your life."
Roman's head fell into his hands, body heaving with the force of his agony.
Ruby laced her fingers into his and pulled his hand away from his face. "But you were."
"What are you talking about," he heaved.
"You were there for me," she said. "Every single minute of it."
"If that were true, you wouldn't be dead right now," he said. Tears dripped from his chin.
"No. You don't get it." She wrapped both of her hands around his. "When I was dying, you were the thing that kept me brave."
"To me, that's not the same."
Ruby continued. "It made me so happy to know that I changed you for the better. You came out of hell, and I watched you grow stronger and more confident with each passing day. And when you told me that it was all because of me, I was the happiest girl in the world. I died without regrets."
"You didn't deserve to die," he said.
"It's okay." She reached out and placed her palm on his cheek. "You still made the decision to open up to me in the end." Ruby smiled.
"How can it matter if you're already dead?"
"Because it helps you, too. I think you never would have admitted any of these things if I hadn't pushed you to, and you probably would have carried them all the way to the grave, and you would never have known."
"I regret everything I didn't do to help you, and it kills me to know that there's nothing to do to change what happened."
Ruby trailed her fingers across his hairline. "It's not about regretting. It's about moving on."
"I can't move on from you. I won't." Roman cast his eyes down.
"Roman, look at me," Ruby demanded.
He attempted to compose himself as Ruby grabbed both sides of his face and forced his head back up.
"Roman, I would never ask you to live in pain just because I'm no longer with you," she said. "I want you to live a long, happy life, and maybe find someone who can make you happier than I ever did."
"No one like that exists," he said.
"No one ever will if you can't move on."
"I am never going to put you behind me," he said, grabbing both of her wrists. "I can never forget you."
"I'm not asking you to. You just need to find happiness again. You won't be honoring my memory unless you can do at least that."
"What would you know? You're not even real, you're just a hallucination."
"Who knows? Maybe I am Ruby's spirit talking to you right now, maybe I'm just a hallucination. But either way, you don't have to forget me. You just have to say goodbye."
"How?" he cried out. "I don't even want you to stop talking to me now, and I know you're going to be gone soon."
"Roman, I will always be with you, whether I'm dead or alive." Ruby pressed her hand to his chest. "Right here."
Ruby began to fade with the rest of the scenery, the Vale skyline disappearing, the lights growing dim, and the interior of the car shifting to where he was before Ruby was with him. Roman felt the cold again, complemented by the splintering pain in his side. When he opened his eyes, his vision had returned to that of its previous state, flashing and tunneled.
His chest shook as he reached for the key, still in the ignition, and turned it. Roman felt hot all over, feverish, almost, but he knew that to be the last symptom of hypothermia and ignored it. Just like before, the car would not start, and Roman fell back against the car seat, out of energy and out of time.
In a distant recollection of the day's events, he remembered Neo trying to stop him before he left. Maybe she would come for him, but she had no way of knowing that he was in trouble. Roman opened the car door, brisk air funneling through the crack. In the hazy form of his thoughts, he figured that he would not have enough energy to even crawl to the cottage. He would be stuck outside, right next to the man he killed, and die alongside him. Despite better instincts, he struggled to place a solid foot on the ground. It was all he had left. At the very least, he could call Neo or Junior to tell them goodbye.
He failed to steady himself on his feet, so he settled for leaning out of the vehicle until he fell on the ground, bracing his fall with his arms.
The weakness crept up through his bones, numb to the cold and pain in his body. In the snow, he could see that his fingernails were turning blue.
He looked up, the daunting distance between him and the cottage, which could not have been more than ten feet, almost discouraging him.
He put his face in the snow, letting his thoughts drift back to Ruby. Her stunning smile, the way her eyes reflected light, the movement of her body. He let the memories of her comfort him until something his hallucinations said reminded him of her last will.
"She would have wanted me to live," he whispered, unable to bring his voice higher than grating croak against his throat.
Lifting his face, he set his eyes on the door, hanging open, warm and inviting light pouring out. Roman dug his elbows into the ground, pulling himself across the snow. He grunted with each movement, groaning expletives to block out the tiredness he felt and the voice in his head telling him to stop, give up. He blocked everything out and replaced it with Ruby's face, her words, and everything she said to him. Somehow, she saw good in him. He wouldn't waste it.
After an eternity, Roman reached the steps to the porch, using them to prop himself up to a crawling position. He could already feel the heat passing through the threshold.
He hauled himself up, letting his blood drip onto the polished wood. More than anything, he wanted to collapse and let whatever may come take him into the void. "Ruby wouldn't want that," he heaved.
He grabbed the threshold and pushed himself up against the wall. The weight of his body was almost too heavy for him, his entire body dragged down by the feeling of lead on his shoulders. The interior came at him in vivid colors. The limbs of an unconscious man sprawled out on the floor, drenched in his own vomit.
Roman scanned the room for a landline—something that would reach someone despite the distance. He stumbled into the kitchen, catching himself on the counter before he tumbled to the floor.
In front of him, like fate, an-old fashioned phone with a wire connected to the wall rested on the countertop before him. He grabbed it with shaking fingers, letting his grip on the counter slip. His face crashed against the counter, but he could not feel it. His fingers found the familiar ten-key on the device, and he dialed three numbers, hoping that he got it right.
Ringing shot out of the speakers, and he sighed in relief.
"911, what's your emergency?"
I'm not crying, you are. I just read through this again, and honestly, I want to murder me for writing it in the first place. I am super evil, I know-you don't have to tell me. But anyways, tell me what you think and if you'd like more stuff like this. Thank you so much for reading! -Mima