Prologue
..
The revolver was cold against his temple. There was a chill in the air and a fog that set heavy on what would be a cold evening, one that he hoped in that moment he wouldn't see.
It was strange, almost surreal, how he quickly accepted his death. He was exhausted: mentally, emotionally and physically. His mind was always racing, chasing away thoughts that were too close to home and scared him to his very core. He had lost so much, and yet he still woke up every morning hoping that all the pain, the suffering, and the hopelessness in his heart was just a nightmare.
It wasn't. It never was a nightmare but his existence. All the decisions he had made had led him to this moment and he was struggling with who he was. He wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't necessarily a good one either. Sure, he had wealth on his side now but his morals were something he had lost a long time ago, and as his mother always told him: to be a good man cost not even a shilling but to keep being good means more to the poorest of fellows.
He saw the house in the distance. He saw the ghosts of his past wandering around the property as if each blink offered him a reason to stay. He thought of the voices that were embedded into the walls; the footsteps soaked into the floorboards; the warmth of the love he had received from his loved ones in every fabric in each room. But were they enough for him to stay?
He thought of her in that moment.
Her face flashed in his mind, smiling with eyes so bright that he often had to pinch himself to remind himself that she was real. He thought of the weeks he would spend at the country house with her and her family, from a time not that long ago but seemed like a lifetime ago now. He thought of the moments they would share together: the stolen glances, the secret jokes, the smiles meant only for each other, the stolen kisses, and the nights they would hold one another before he would return to his room as morning stole their nights away from them.
He had wondered where she was now. Deep down, he knew she was in a better place. A safer place. And that meant everything to him. To know that she had escaped his life and the consequences of loving him meant that this was easier. A shiver ran down his spine as he was reminded of the coldness of the metal chamber against his temple.
He screamed, from pain, from anguish, from sadness that plagued him. The birds sitting in the trees around him became startled at such an outburst and flew far, their wings flapping exhaustedly as they tried to retreat from the danger. He watched them for a moment, his mind lost as he knew that even the birds were leaving him.
"I'm sorry—" he whispered, his voice soft which was almost comforting to him. He had lost parts of himself through his survival; parts that he never knew existed within him anymore. There was still a softness to him, a kindness somewhere. He wondered if it was enough for him to stay.
He squeezed his eyes shut as his heart raced violently against his chest. He thought of the sunshine warm on his skin on those summer days with her, the feel of her lips on his skin as she brushed a kiss so gentle against his cheek and lips, the way her laughter was contagious and would make him forget all about the troubles at home. He hadn't known back then just how much he would need her now.
When he reopened his eyes, he saw her in the distance. Like a vision, but one that he wasn't sure if she was from his imagination or if she was truly there. He called for her, his hands shaking with anxiety. She was staring at him. She had to be there. He shook his head, her vision before him distorted by the tears that filled his eyes, obscuring him seeing clearly.
Then a gunshot rang through the air, deafening, confusing and shocking. But there was a stillness that it brought to the world in the seconds afterwards; as if the world stopped spinning, as if all sounds just forgot to exist, as if everything just froze. Just for a moment, just for an instant, he was at peace.