He knew she would come. Long before he heard the slight click of her shoes against the gravel pathway and the softly spoken curse word as she lost her footing, he knew. It was always the same. No matter where he went, she would find him.
Some would say he was lucky; that he had a guardian angel keeping watch over him. He recalls his granny having told him much the same as a boy. The sweet smile on her face, as she pushed strands of matted unruly hair from his face, giving thanks to whatever being had kept him safe that day. He could remember little else from those hours, when he had lain on that bed. Though even then in the mind of one so young, he had truly wondered he if was as lucky as granny told him – not that you ever disagreed with granny.
Of course as a child, it hadn't been her. She would only have been a teenager herself, but that made no matter to him. She had come in to his life when he had needed her most, when the other people around him seemed to splinter away, protecting themselves. He was a mess, and in his presence, he caused the same of everyone else.
He had told her to leave him in those early months, when she had stuck by his side, and tried to keep him on the narrow path. In the days when he had been vicious to her in the hope that she would seek a safe haven. But she had merely laughed at him, smiled and told him that now he was stuck with her, that it was in the small print.
He hadn't quite known how to take it, always expecting her to leave like the others when she realised that he was never going to be good for her. He had hoped for her to leave, and yet at the same time he had needed her by his side. He let himself by swept up in her world, one that seemed to differ so much from his own. He would watch as things happened, trying to involve himself and yet never quite sure if he fit.
When he had come round that first time, to find her sitting beside him, she had scolded him lightly for scaring her, but he had seen in her eyes the pain. He had turned away from her, squeezing his own eyes shut to block out the image but it was already burned in to this brain, alongside the eyes of so many others. When he opened his eyes once more, he was surprised to find her still there by his side.
He offered her outs more times than he could count, a get out of jail free card but she never took it. In time, she gave him more reign. She stuck to his side less closely, until she trusted that his need for her was less.
He had ventured away from her only twice in their years together. The first had been his desire to prove himself. A switch inside had suddenly sent him running from a world in which he was safe, to one which offered more risk. He thought in the twisted parts of his brain that perhaps this would make them proud of him – though he knew little of who 'they' really were. Oh he was certain his career path would have been mocked, but he wasn't really there to mock – other than being a voice in a dark mind.
He hadn't seen it for what it truly was. It was a mission that should really have had only one end. He was not fit for that world, and they should have seen through it. She had been less light in her scolding that time when he had opened his eyes for that first time. The fear and pain was so much more evident as he looked upon her face. He had wearied and aged her in those months when they had been apart. She had begged him not to follow that path, and yet when her prophecy came to pass, still she sat by his side.
In the weeks following his discharge, she had sat up with him late in to the night, despite her working pattern meaning she was left drained. In those sessions, slowly she told him the truth of what she had seen. How he had taken another path to do what she had always prevented. And even then he had failed.
That lucky star, the angel, the being he may or may not have believed in. Something caused him to fail – and for that he was supposed to be ever grateful. He supposed in some ways he was now. There were good things. Moments in his life that even now could drag the edges of his lips upwards. He had achieved more than he was ever meant too, had known love like he had never believed possible and had held in his arms the smallest of people knowing that she was his.
But still he was the mess that he'd always been. The one who turned good to bad, who destroyed the order and balance until chaos rained down. He had seen it, watched in the faces of people as reality dawned, as the wreck was revealed. He had seen it before him, and known that had he not been there, this never would have happened.
That was what made, whatever the being was, selfish. To allow him to continue this quest for destruction in a world that was bleak enough. It could be ended. Bright skies could be restored as the tornado died away.
There would be little pain left behind. His friend he supposed would feel it for a time, but she would be better off. No longer having to be his minder, she could live her life. He had watched her over time, how she seemed to give up everything for him and yet she received nothing in return. Without his presence, she could do what she wanted without having to worry for him. It was the only way to set her free.
It was why he had disappeared the second time. He had seen it as his duty to let her go. She had started to trust him again, they had settled more this time. Only he saw in her restraint, the occasional glance in his direction as she tried to puzzle up which opportunities she could take – and which would cause him to be left behind. She had given him reign to find his path, to live and love and yet she rarely allowed it for herself.
He had slipped away quietly. He could recall little now of what had happened in those days and weeks preceding that night. How the little things started to build, how the voices shifted and increased their volume. He could pinpoint little other than the fact he had found himself with a bag upon his shoulder walking along a busy road. He had watched each car pass him by, dazzled and temporarily blinded by lights he stared in to as though hypnotised. He walked until he was at the point of physical collapse. He never knew quite how many miles he travelled, and in truth thought little of the days that passed.
He knew they searched for him, and when broken he had been found and lain on an ambulance trolley, it was she who had grasped at his hand and begged him to hang on.
How long ago had that been? He cannot quite recall. Time seems hazy to him. How long has he been sat here now? He hasn't a clue. It doesn't matter.
She was already beside him, arm around his shoulder. He could feel she was cold, dressed unsuitably for here though perfectly for the place where they should have been. He wonders what became of the others. Chances are they took the free meal, and mulled over what had been. Theories and gossip would be rife, further darkening the lives of those he'd affected. It would take time for the looks to die away, the pity, the sympathy, the horror.
"I don't know what to do," he finds himself falling against her body, as her arms close around him. As his eyes to close, the rain starts to fall.