Our baby.
I had to live for our baby.
In the cavern of the abandoned mine shaft, I confrontedthe deepest, darkest parts of my being and found myself to be nothing but a coward.
A coward who ran when things were hard. A coward who had found true love, and the moment it was tested, I’d turned and sprinted away from it.
I’d rejected the only man I’d ever wanted. Because he hadn’t been what I thought.
Shame coated my tongue.
Shame, and something else.
Envy.
I envied people who were strong. I envied people who had spines. I envied people who knew how to love unconditionally, who wouldn’t walk away when life threw challenges at them.
My heart swelled with agony.
Agony, and regret.
Deep, marrow-staining regret.
Here, at the end of my short life, I saw myself for who I truly was—and I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like it at all.
Brooks had given me every part of himself. Every part of the man he had become. And the parts of his past he’d chosen not to share with me he’d done so to protect me from a life he no longer lived.
And I’d spurned him. The man had killed in the name of vengeance; he’d meted out justice for the most innocent amongst us.
I’d rejected him because he hadn’t fit into the neat and tidy box society was determined to shove us into.
We’re all imperfect.
We’re all human.
We’re not always infallible.
We make mistakes. We trip. We fall. And yet we pick ourselves back up and try to do better.
That was all Brooks was doing.
He wanted to leave his past behind him, and I’d used it against him. I’d used his vulnerability against him, and I hated myself for it.
I prayed again. Not just that I’d be found. But that I’d be saved.
So I could do better. So I could love harder.
Coldness seeped into my skin and my thoughts began to shudder.
And still, I prayed.
I chantedplease, please, save meover and over again. With fervent hope.
After a few hours, my ears began to ring from the din of the rain. So much so that I swore I imagined the bark of a dog.
I looked up at the hole in the rock.
