Hey everyone, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in so long, I've been really busy! This is the last chapter of this fanfic, so I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I've loved writing this, but I'm not sure that I have the time right now to start my next fanfic. Please subscribe/favourite if you liked this story so you can read my other stories.

There was a knock at the door. In my naivety, I made myself believe, as I headed to the door, that it was Brad. 'He must have forgotten his keys…' I opened the door and my false smile faded as I was greeted somberly by two police officers and I knew what they were here to tell me. Well, partly. They perched themselves on the edge of my sofa and declined the offer of some refreshments, neither of them looking as if they knew what to say to me.

I told them that I had guessed why they were here; I told them that they only had to nod if I was correct. They glanced at each other, then back at me and gave a curt nod. I smiled in gratitude as tears silently began to fall. I explained that I realized as soon as I saw them at my door what had happened, not that I just knew my husband was dead, as I saw the suspicion in their eyes. They seemed relieved by this, but still looked apprehensive.

"Would you like to know how your husband died?"

I nodded. I expected a car crash, or a fall down some stairs, or something… normal. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting what they went on to tell me.

"Were you aware of where your husband worked?" Hard to explain really… No, I didn't, as of this morning.

The next question I did not expect. "Do you know what a… erm, bottomless go-go dancer is?" I had to admit that I did not. Looking back, I don't know how the officers retained composure. Yes, they were delivering bad news, but fortunately they managed to hide the judgment in their eyes and were perfectly compassionate.

I see it every day. Every time I close my eyes, I see the trapeze swinging, my darling Brad perched on top, rousing the crowds with his cheesiest grin lighting up the seedy room. Then he is gone. He has plummeted the 30 feet and landed badly. The crowd gasps, some wondering if it is part of the act, most gasping from the excitement of watching his barely clad body twisting through the air and then sharply crumpling on impact. I see people gather around him, leering still at his body with shock, lust or both. Like the look in Frank's eyes as he murdered Eddie.

Sometimes I think about why Brad turned to this lifestyle and I immediately think of Frank. Sometimes I can imagine Brad triumphant above the crowd and I see the confidence I always wanted him to have - the confidence that I saw in Frank which pulled me away from him. Did he do it for me? Was he going to tell me in the hope that it could bring the spark back to our relationship? I guess I'll never know.

The officers offered their condolences and made their excuses to leave. I don't blame them. They had just had to tell a woman that her husband worked in a bottomless go-go dancing bar in Soho and died during his act of swinging on a trapeze. Surely that can't be in their training…

As I looked around the house and realized that the colour had drained from the room, from the world. At least before, we pretended that our marriage wasn't a sham, and that we were happy. I tried so hard to pretend that I actually started to believe, but all hope was lost now. I had lost my one true love and he was never coming back. Even my memories of him are tainted, thinking about his secret life and imagining him lying naked in front of strangers, motionless and vulnerable. Hypocritical, in my line of work, I know.

I can take some comfort in that Brad died doing what he loved. Isn't that what everyone wants? When you strip everything away, he was more like me than I ever realized. We both kept secrets; we both had flaws; we were both so busy chasing a thrill that we forgot how we used to thrill each other. I work hard to block out the bad memories – needless to say, the weekly drinking bills are escalating – and I choose to believe that, if he had returned home that night, then we would have forgiven each other for our flaws and moved on. Just as I discovered what a truly rich character my husband had become, he was gone. Everything was lost.

And this is where my story ends. When Brad died, I realized that he was my life, and he always had been. I still carry the guilt about what I put him through, but I realized a long time ago that regrets won't change the past. The memories of the Transylvanians faded in my memory, so much so that when an older, more disheveled looking Riff Raff included my hotel room in one of his journeys, it took my 3 days to think of his name and how I knew him. I knew he was linked in my mind to Frank, but even my memory of the illustrious doctor had blurred.

I'm still a prostitute and I now use the proceeds, among other things, to rent that same hotel room. But now, instead of lying down and thinking of Dr Furter, I think of Brad; my husband, my love, my life. Frank's gloved fingers have been replaced by Brad's bare knuckles, and the sultry British accent has been drowned out by Brad's sweet, American twang. His memory, the memory of us, lives on inside my head and on through my work.

It may seem wrong or twisted to you but, as you've probably realized, Brad and I were never normal. Before the Denton Affair, we lived in a bubble: complete innocence with no sense of what the world could really be like. We were then shown the other extreme, and I suppose it was too much to for us to deal with properly. Am I happy? Not really. Do I yearn for a normal life? Not at all. I've realized who I am and I have found myself… but what do you do when you realize you have reached your life's potential?

The end! I'm not too pleased with this ending as I wasn't sure about how to finish, but please review and let me know what you think! Thanks for sticking with me until the end,

Emily x