was obvious to him she was in pain, no matter what meds she was prescribed she was always hurting inside and out. The doctor had told him she was hours away, but she held on for days. She wanted to let go, to stop fighting, but she didn’t.
Air whistled out of her, fed to her by an oxygen tank by the bed. The only sound in the room as they sat together, waiting. They’d been waiting for what felt like forever. The monster was getting impatient, gnawing at his mind, knowing this was its only obstacle, and it was taking forever.
Romeo’s heart thumped hard in his chest when he realized, she was hanging on for him, in pain for him, and he didn’t deserve that kind of self-sacrificing love.
He took her hand, and leaned close to the bed, voice ghosting her cheek. “It’s okay to let go.”
She swallowed hard, and stiffly shook her head.
“Why not?”
Her lips quivered as she spoke. “You’ll be alone.”
Romeo looked down at their hands, his compared to hers, pale, blue tinged. She’d lost weight, her bones jutted out, her hair had thinned. She hadn’t opened her eyes in days, her body was shutting down.
“I’m going to be all right.” He said.
“Promise?” she wheezed.
“I promise.”
She shook her head, the smallest of movements, as if to say she didn’t believe Romeo. He pulled a pained expression, pulsed his fingers around hers, and tried a different approach.
“Father’s waiting for you. He’s been waiting for a long time.”
“I know.”
“So go to him. Find him, and just like you told me, don’t ever let him go.”
“Leave you behind?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
“One day you’ll find us again.”
Romeo didn’t know what lay beyond the dark veil of death, but he was certain he wouldn’t end up in the same place as them.
“Yes, I’ll find you both.” Romeo let go of her hand, and slowly pulled the drawer of the bedside table. “We’ll see each other again, but you need to go to him first. It was you two first before me, before I was born.”
“Before you joined our family.”
Romeo frowned at her odd choice of words, but didn’t comment. “Yes, you and him, and you loved each other. You were happy.”
“Yes.”
Romeo found his father’s old cigar box in the drawer.
“Always love him.” She wheezed.
He opened the lid, ran his fingers over the six cigars, then picked one out. He used his father’s lighter kept beside the box, held the cigar in one hand, and his mother’s hand in his other.
“He’s waiting for you, he’s right there. Can you see him?”
The room filled with the familiar scent. It had been years since his nostrils had twitched with it, and when he turned to his mother, he saw her lips lift at the edges.
“Rupert?”
Romeo didn’t speak, he let whatever medicine induced fantasy his mother was having play out. She hadn’t smiled in weeks, but she was smiling, and her eyes beneath her lids were twitching, as if she was looking at someone. More and more smoke filled the room, but it wasn’t horrid, it was familiar for both of them, pleasant in a comforting way.
“Go with him.”
The scent and memory of her husband broke her determination to hold on for him.
“I’ll be okay.” Romeo whispered, squeezing her hand for the final time.
The moment was peaceful, the most peaceful moment Romeo had experienced in his life. The monster went quiet, mute, and he sat in the room in silence, breathing in the smell of his father, holding his mother’s hand. The room darkened, the in and out wheeze of air slowed, then a short while later, stopped altogether.
Peace for a single second for him and his mother.
Then the monster had pushed forward in his mind, broke free of its chains, and took center stage of his life. He was free to kill, free to satisfy his dark desire, free to be himself, and the relief made him weep, made him gasp and quickly let go of his mother’s hand.
Romeo listened to the waves smashing into the rocks. The drop that would surely kill him. He wouldn’t end up in the place that good people went like his mother and father. He’d drop into the depths of hell, no less than he deserved, but he wasn’t ready for it yet. He was determined to fulfil one promise to his mother.
Romeo searched the dashboard finding a pen and a notepad. He hovered the pen above the page, dwelling on how to start his supposed manifesto, then he just