three days. I’ve sat in his mansion like a zombie for three days, waiting for him to walk through the doors. He hasn’t, and with each minute that passes, my hopes are slowly dying.
“You need to prepare for the worst,” she says gently, and my head shakes increase.
“He’s strong,” I reply, adamant. “He’ll come back to me.”
She breathes in, swallowing, and starts to pack away the first aid box. I hate that she’s so clearly humoring me. Where’s her faith?
“He will be back, Esther,” I reiterate, ignoring the part of my brain that’s telling me to be real. That’s telling me I am alone.
I hear the door to the mansion close, and I jump down from my stool and run to the main entrance. When I spot Brad leading someone towards Danny’s office, I can’t stop myself from following. The door is closed when I get there, but I don’t knock. I walk in and find Brad with a man I don’t recognize. They both look at me, both in pity.
“Who are you?” I demand. I’ve never seen him around here before.
He pulls a badge out and flashes it at me, and I withdraw. “Spittle. FBI. If you wouldn’t mind giving us some privacy.”
“She can stay.” Brad says, catching sight of my bandaged arm before throwing me a look of pure filth. It doesn’t affect me. He walks to the drinks cabinet and pours two glasses of Scotch.
“As you wish.” The man, Spittle, takes a seat at Danny’s desk, and Brad hands him one of the drinks.
“Do I need one of those?” I ask, motioning to the glasses held at their lips.
Spittle falters, setting his glass on the desk. “A body was dragged out of the cove earlier this morning,” he says matter of factly, glancing at me.
The ground disappears from beneath my feet, and I reach for a nearby cupboard, clinging on for dear life. Spittle returns his attention onto Brad. “I knew Danny. But I need someone to formally identify the body.”
A ragged sob rips my body in two, along with my world, and I fall to my knees. Spittle doesn’t even look at me. But Brad does. And the wobble of his lip only makes it all the more real. I knew Danny. That’s what he said. Spittle has already identified him.
“I’ll do it,” Brad replies, his voice shaky. He knocks back the whole of his drink and slams his empty down, his grip of the glass sending his knuckles white. He’s angry. He’s sad. He’s lost. “I’ll do it,” he breathes, glancing across to me on the floor. I can’t see him through my tears. But I know he’s crying too. “Unless you want to,” he adds coldly.
My head feels like it could explode. I don’t know what happens now, where I’ll go, how I’ll survive. But I do know one thing. I can’t see Danny like that. Never.
I jump up and run out of the office. Dead. He’s dead. I see nothing as I race through the mansion, except the memories of him circling my mind. I don’t hear a sound except him calling my name. I smell nothing but sea and driftwood and Danny.
I charge up the stairs, down the corridor, and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I find the blade on the floor. Pick it up. Rest it on my arm. And I slash repeatedly, over and over, screaming my way through it.
I’m not punishing myself.
I’m punishing him.
“Rose!” Brad knocks the blade from my hand, and I fold to the floor in a heap of devastation, my body racked with loud, jerking sobs.
I’ve never really felt. Not for years. Not before Danny and after my baby was taken.
But I don’t think I’ve ever felt this numb. This broken. This hopeless. There was a small part of me that always hoped that maybe one day I would be reunited with my boy. That now seems impossible. The three people in this world who would know where or how to find him are all dead. I should feel free. Nox is gone. The man with the snake ring is gone. But so is Danny, and now I feel more trapped in darkness than ever before. And through my numbness, I’m in agony.
It’s raining. Has been since Brad returned from the morgue and drank two bottles of Scotch two weeks ago. Dense, gray clouds blanket the sky. The ground beneath my heels is saturated and spongy. The air is thick with grief, and