He waited for the pain, but nothing happened. No memory of the past came to him, showing him the life he had lived. He was cold, but he still felt alive. The wind howled and the snow fell as though it were coming down in slow motion. When Anton Chigurh felt no trace of pain in his body, he opened his eyes and looked at the unconscious woman he was holding in his arms. Elena Olmsted was not hit by the bullet. A snowflake landed on her face.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked up and beheld the confused face of Andrew Pittman. His eyes were full of hurt. Anton didn't think such a thing was possible, but it showed as clear as glass on the deranged man's face. Andrew blinked once and looked down at the crimson stain growing bigger on his shirt. He lifted his head and looked at Anton again. Another shot was heard. Andrew threw his head back and coughed a bit, a spurt of blood flowed out from the corner of his mouth. He fell down to his knees and then fell downward into the snow for the final time.

Marge Gunderson was standing five feet away from him, holding Elena's gun in her hands. She stepped forward and looked down at Andrew's body and fired four more rounds into his back, killing him for good.

Anton stared at her, almost in a state of shock. He hugged Elena closer to his body. It was the most violent he had ever seen Marge become, more than what most people had seen.

Marge lowered the weapon and kicked the deranged man in the leg to make sure he was dead. He didn't move. Walking around the deceased Andrew Pittman, Chief Gunderson stuck the Beretta into her holster and looked over at the man who saved her cousin. She walked over and knelt down to Anton's level.

"Are you hurt?" Marge asked him, seeing his bloodied hair.

Anton gave her no answer. He looked at Elena with concern. It had been hours since she was kidnapped, and he could only imagine the horror Andrew had put her through. He would know by morning.

The snow continued to fall in the gusty wind, fading away by the morrow's dawn. Pink and gold color filled the winter sky, breaking through the white-clouded atmosphere. The city was quiet, the people awakening slowly to the start of a new day. Their normal routine would go on as usual, until they would read the newspaper or turn on the television and hear about the terrifying ordeal.

Marge stayed at the hospital all through the night, refusing to leave her cousin's side until she woke up. She stood over by the window, gazing out at the city in the beautiful morning light.

At the moment, Elena was lying in a hospital bed with an IV needle attached to her arm. Her face was white. There were dark circles under her eyes, a small bruise on her cheek.

Marge heard a soft moan coming from the unconscious woman and looked to her right. Elena moved a bit and showed a pained expression on her face. Marge went over to check on her. "El? Can you hear me?"

Slowly, Elena began to open her eyes. She turned her head right on the pillow and saw a familiar face with a friendly smile looking down at her.

"How ya feeling?" Marge asked her, a tear falling down her cheek.

Elena blinked, trying to remember. It took her a minute to adjust to her new surrounding and realize she was no longer kidnapped. She was not cold and she was in no danger. "Where am I?" She asked.

"You're in the hospital", Marge answered. "You hurt yourself pretty bad and you've come down with a mild case of hypothermia, but the doctor said you're gonna be all right. You're lucky, Elena."

Elena racked her brain for a moment. She remembered the fight between Anton and Andrew, and raised her head and saw bandages wrapped around her wrists. She sat up slowly and looked at her cousin.

"Marge, it was Andrew. He did it. He killed Mary! He started the fire that killed Gordon! He was gonna-"

"Elena, calm down", said Marge, placing her hands on her cousin's upper arms. "It's okay. Don't get excited."

"Marge, Andrew...Is he-"

"Andrew's dead."

Elena breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her head into her hands. Her eyes filled with water and she felt like crying tears of joy, as though a tremendous burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

Marge stroked the top of her cousin's head and said, "That's right, El. I killed him."

Elena sniffled and looked up at Marge, wiping away the tears that were forming in her eyes. "How?" She asked. "How did you kill him?"

"I shot him", Marge admitted. "I shot him six times, just to be sure."

"Seven", Elena told her. "Anton fired once before you did. The gun jammed when he..." Elena paused for a minute and looked around the room. For some reason, Anton was not in the room with her. "Where is Anton?"

"He's gone", said Marge.

Elena looked at Marge and asked her, "What?"

"I tried to make him stay, but he said there was something he had to do, so he left town", said Marge. "He said he'd call you in two days."

Elena couldn't believe what she had just heard. Anton was gone? "Why would he leave without saying goodbye?" She asked.

Marge shook her head. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me", she said.

Elena blinked twice and looked forward as though she were in a trance. Anton was gone, nowhere to be found. Why did he leave? Why didn't he stay by her side? Did he not love her anymore? She didn't understand.

The next day, Elena was released from the hospital. Marge brought her cousin home with her to take care of her until she was feeling better. Elena told her she was feeling fine, but Marge insisted.

The news spread like wildfire when word got out about Mary Hartman's involvement with Andrew Pittman. The newscast played back the whole story from the beginning. During a prison riot back in the summer, Andrew Pittman managed to escape and traveled all the way from Tallahassee, Florida back to Brainerd, Minnesota to seek revenge on Elena. She had done nothing wrong, and yet he still wanted to kill her. Elena would never come to understand it. She had often wondered what he did between killing Anton's parents and meeting her. Where was he during that time? What did he do? She shuttered to know the answer.

On the second morning, Elena was sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The news report was mentioning the same broadcast. Marge came into the living room with a mug of coffee in one hand and sat down next to her cousin. She took a sip of her morning brew and listened to the program. Three individual photographs were shown of three officers who lost their lives to Andrew.

"Three of our men received an anonymous call on the morning Mary was abducted", Marge explained. "They located him in a shack out in the woods around Moose Lake. Once they arrived, Andrew shot them dead and stole a prowler and tracked Mary down to her house. He killed her mother in cold blood. He took Mary hostage and then went to look for you. She was helping him all along. She kept him well hidden for several months after he broke out of prison. She brought him food, supplies, and whatever else he needed. She didn't want to get involved with Andrew, but he forced her into it. He recruited Mary to keep an eye on you and Anton. She conspired to kill you, Elena."

Elena didn't say anything, and Marge completely understood why. It saddened her how a pitiful woman like Mary Hartman could ever have gotten involved with a criminal like Andrew Pittman in the first place. Several people were dead because of him, but because Marge had killed him, Andrew would no longer be able to hurt or kill anyone ever again. Born a schizophrenic with borderline personality disorder, Andrew Pittman believed that all those who wronged him, including his family, were meant to pay with their lives for his greatest failure of not being born normal. In the end, he only ended up failing himself.

"He tortured her to death, Marge", Elena finally said. "He killed Mary...He raped her and then he killed her...He could have done the same thing to me, but he didn't. I don't understand it. I don't know what it is about me that attracted him, but I hate it. I did nothing to Andrew and look what happened. A lot of people's life have been ruined because of me...I should have died in that fire with my parents."

Marge set her coffee down and told her, "Elena, don't say that. You didn't have anything to do with what he did. Andrew was just a man that went crazy. All his life, people kept insisting that he needed help, but he didn't think there was anything wrong with him."

"He was wrong", said Elena. "In every sense of the word, he was wrong. From the moment he was born, he was delusional. I know not everybody is born like that, but most who are born with it usually seek help. He didn't."

"And now he's dead", said Marge. She sounded sympathetic for the deranged man. He was a lunatic who tried to murder a member of her family, but she still felt sorry for him.

Elena, however, was far too drained to show any real emotion. She was angry, bitter, resentful, and too much full of misery to care about her emotional state of being. She hated Andrew for what he had done to her, for what he had done to Mary. To her, he was a monster. Andrew Pittman was a murderer much more worse than Anton Chigurh.

Marge looked at the television screen for a minute. The police were gathered at the crime scene at the cemetery in Crow Wing County. There was a body covered by a sheet. A photograph of Andrew Pittman appeared on screen. The voice of a newscaster announced that it was him who started the church fire that killed Gordon Burrows and those two other people. It was him who shot Dr. Benedict through the face. The doctor would live, but his ex-colleague would not. Mary Hartman was dead. She, it turned out, was the anonymous caller who ratted him out. Once he killed her mother, Andrew kidnapped Mary by force and then drove to the hospital and shot several people before kidnapping Elena. He drove the two women to the cemetery and then took Mary out of the stolen police cruiser and raped her on the hollowed grounds before putting a bullet in her brain. Elena heard everything, but she did not see a thing. The newscaster made no mention of another person who was involved in the case.

Please, God, let him be all right, Elena prayed internally. For two days, she thought of nothing else but Anton. She missed him and didn't know where he was. She started to worry. And then the phone rang.

"I'll get it." Norm went to answer the phone and picked up the handset and put it to his ear. "Hello?...Yah?...Yah, she's here." Norm placed the handset on his shoulder and looked over and said, "Elena, it's for you."

"Who is it?" She asked him.

"It's Anton", Norm answered.

Elena and Marge looked at each other. Elena stood up from her seat and went to retrieve the phone from Norm.

"Hello?"

"Yes."

Elena put a hand to her mouth and let out a gasping sort of cry. She placed her hand over her heart and said, "Anton, thank God! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm all right."

"Where are you?"

"You know where I am."

Elena shook her head and said, "What do you mean I know? I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Elena paused for a minute, confused. "I don't understand."

"You do understand. You just don't want to believe it."

Suddenly, Elena did understand. She knew by the sound of his voice. His voice sounded calm and serene as usual, but it was distant. In fact, he was distant. He was far away from Brainerd and even farther away from her. He was right back where he started, but he was not a free man. In fact, he would not be free for a long time. Elena knew exactly where he was. He was back in Texas, calling from a phone inside a police station.

"You're back in Texas, aren't you?" Elena asked him.

Anton didn't answer her.

"Anton?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Why did you leave?"

"I won't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I know she's there listening."

Elena looked over at Marge and Norm. She placed her hand over the speaker and lowered the phone and asked them, "Could you two leave us alone for a minute?"

Norm placed an arm around Marge and turned around and left the room. They both went into the kitchen.

Elena lowered her hand and put the phone to her ear again. "You turned yourself in, didn't you?" She asked him in a whispered tone of voice.

"Yes, I did."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I have to. With Andrew gone, you no longer need me. Now that he's dead, the only way to settle my demons and repay my debt to those I've killed is with my life. I've done wrong to a lot of people and you know it. Those lives I took? You were right. Those people didn't deserve to die. With the exception of the people who hired me, my soul is damned because of the innocent blood I've shed. There's no other way around it."

"But I wanted you to stay with me", Elena told him, tearfully.

"I know you did, but we talked about this. We were brought together for a reason, but now that the light has prevailed over the darkness, there's no use for us. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Elena stared crying and put a hand to her mouth. She hated herself for breaking down while talking to him. He couldn't see her, but Anton could tell she was distressed.

"Why are you crying?" Anton asked her.

Elena lowered her hand and told him, "I'm scared."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to die."

"I'm not afraid to die, Elena. Death doesn't mean the same thing to me as it does to most people. I know you're scared, but this is something I have to do."

"And you're never coming back, are you?"

"I don't know. Nothing will be certain until the trial."

Elena couldn't believe this was happening. The court would lock him away for sure, but she was afraid to know the answer. She summoned up her courage and asked him, "How long?"

Anton was silent for a moment. And then he spoke. "The maximum sentence is up to fifty years in prison."

Elena closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth again, feeling fresh tears run down her face. She placed her hand over her beating heart and asked him in a hushed, almost broken voice, "That long?"

"Without parole", said Anton. "Or it's the death penalty."

Elena felt more tears leak down her face. She sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking.

"You can't be selfish, Elena. You need to think about what is best for your daughter. You have to let me go. No matter the outcome, everything will be justified. This is the last time you will ever hear from me. In case I die, I want you to do me a favor. When Sophia wakes up, I want you to say goodbye to her for me. Will you do that?"

Elena nodded. "I will, Anton."

"Elena, in case anything should happen to me, I just wanted to say I love you and...Adiós, mi rosa española."

The line was disconnected. The dial tone rang. Elena hung up the phone and lowered her face into her hands, sobbing. Her body trembled with grief. The love of her life was gone, locked away forever. As mush as he loved her, Anton knew it could never be. Elena did not want to believe it, but it was true. Sooner or later, she would have to come to accept the fact that she might never see Anton again. It broke her to think such a thing could happen.

"El?" Marge came back into the living room and walked over to her distraught cousin and asked her, "El? Honey, what happened?"

Elena turned and looked at her cousin with a tear-stained face and said, "He broke up with me, Marge. He left me for good."

What Elena told her was a lie, but it was better than Marge knowing the awful truth about him being a hitman and a murderer. Marge didn't know what to say, but wrapped her arms around her cousin and gave her a comforting hug. Elena was heartbroken, but the memory of Anton Chigurh would linger in her heart forever. She would never forget him.

Two days after the arrest of Anton Chigurh, Elena received a call from the hospital. Sophia woke up from her coma. She had no memory of the incident and didn't talk for almost a year. What brought her into that state, she couldn't remember. When Elena tried to break the news to her about Anton, Sophia understood right away. Though she could not see him in any of her visions, she did not cry.

Several months passed. The sun came and went, as well as the moon. The summers were hot and the winters were just as cold as ever. One morning, as she was driving to the police station, Marge Gunderson spotted a couple of children playing out in the front yard of someone's house. Despite the cold, the children seemed to be having fun. Marge smiled at the sight and returned her attention back to the road in front of her. Seeing the children reminded her of herself and Elena when they were younger and how her mother would sit near the window during the winter and watch them play out in the snow. Marge had very few memories about her mother. Much like Sophia Burrows, Marge Gunderson lost her mother during her childhood. She was ten years old when it happened. Elena was four. Marge was now the same age as her mother when she died.

Marge came to a stoplight and allowed people to walk across the street. The red-headed woman she recognized as Annaliese Erikson looked in her direction with a scowl on her face. Marge ignored it and drove on. She thought about her cousin. It had been a long time since she spoke to her. Marge decided to take a trip out to the woods and visit Elena's house before heading to work.

Marge drove up to the little white house and turned off the engine and opened the door and got out of the prowler. She closed the door and placed her hands on her hips, looking over the property.

The small residence had changed over the years. The paint was chipping and the roof needed some work. There was a crack in one of the windows. There was a For Sale sign taped on the door.

Marge went up to the front porch and opened the door, which hadn't been locked in years. The door creaked as she pushed it all the way open. She stepped inside and stood there looking around. Most of the furniture was gone, save for a chair and an empty shelf. There were cobwebs on the ceiling. A broken picture frame on the floor. Marge walked over and knelt down and picked it up. Through the dust and broken glass, Marge could make out a faded picture of a smiling, little blonde girl holding a four-month-old baby in her arms. Marge rose up and placed the picture frame back on the shelf, though she didn't know why. The place had been abandoned long ago. Nobody would care. She checked the rest of the house and looked in the bathroom. She tried turning on the light, but the electricity was not working. It hadn't worked for over seven years. She looked at herself in the mirror. She checked out the bedrooms. No beds, no clothes in the closet. She went back out and stood in the middle of the living room, remembering back to what happened the last time she saw Elena.

Three days after Sophia woke up from her coma, Marge went to the hospital to confront Elena about Anton. All that time she was with him, never once did Elena ever mention to her about his profession. Now that word was out about his arrest, and being that it was her own flesh and blood who kept a big secret from her about hiding a wanted man, Marge needed to know the truth. When confronted, Elena gave her no answer. She knew she was guilty, but refused to say so. When Marge threatened to take away her daughter, Elena begged her not to. Marge knew she should have arrested her right then and there, but because of her loyalty to Elena, she didn't. Instead, she said:

"I want you to leave, Elena. I'm giving you one week. To pack, resign from your job, and get the hell out of my town. I never want to see your face in Brainerd again. Goodbye, orphan."

That was the last thing Marge ever said to Elena, before she turned on her heel and walked over to the elevator and stepped inside and looked at her cousin one last time and shook her head in disappointment before the doors closed.

Snapping out of her memory, Marge felt a slight movement from inside her stomach and looked down and placed a hand over the seven-month-old bump carrying her first child. Two months from now, she and Norm would be expecting a boy. They still hadn't given him a name yet. She would think about that when she got back home tonight. She looked over at the window, the snow coming down gently. Marge turned around and walked over and stood in the doorway and took one last look inside and shut the door. She stepped down off the porch and turned to look at the house. She sighed through her nose and crouched down and picked up a rock from off the snowy ground and then looked at the house for the last time and threw the rock at an unbroken window, shattering it. She turned around and walked back over and got into her prowler and started the engine. She turned the prowler around and drove back to town to the station, listening to the police radio.

Marge Gunderson never heard from her cousin again. In time, the name of Anton Chigurh was forgotten from the town of Brainerd. Only God would decide if the two lovers would ever see each other again.