Page 8 of Merciless

“I’ll keep her company, Colton. She won’t be alone.”

Who is this magnificent creature who has given me everything I want without asking for anything in return? In a world submerged in grief and darkness, she was my single spark of light.

Using her words to push myself into action, I said my final goodbyes to my mum, kissed her headstone and turned away.

My eyes remained on my parked car in the distance—my escape. I took one step, then another, until I paused, refusing to even glance in her direction.

“Goodbye, Charlotte.” Please don’t reply. I don’t think I’ll leave if you say a single word.

As if she could sense my desperation, Charlotte followed through with my silent request.

It gave me one final burst of power to get in the car and leave my life behind.

Chapter 5

WILLIAM

I didn’t know the date or how long it had been since I’d buried my wife.

As soon as I got home from the ceremony, I washed myself raw in the shower, then slid into bed naked, where I’d remained since.

My phone was long dead, the last message carving deep into my psyche like a permanent tattoo.

Forget about me. Treat me as if I died right alongside Mum. Because, in a way I did. Goodbye, Dad.

By the time I managed to type out a reply with my jittering fingers, the text bounced, soon followed by countless calls that didn’t connect.

Colton, my son, my pride and joy, had left. Not that I blamed him.

He had caught me doing the unthinkable at the worst moment imaginable. How could I expect his forgiveness when I couldn’t even forgive myself?

Familiar anguish speared through my chest as my guilty conscience forced me back in time to relive the harrowing memories of my past.

Bethany’s health had been declining, and after much convincing from me and Nikita, my wife finally agreed to book an appointment with the doctor.

It was bad news. My Bethy had transitioned into end-stage liver failure. Despite knowing the prognosis of such a debilitating disease, the results still hit me as if I’d been run over by a train.

The car ride home was silent, both of us trying to process everything that was said and unsaid. When we pulled up in our driveway, Nikita was waiting for her best friend, arms stretched wide to give comfort and warmth I just couldn’t provide at that moment.

I wanted to escape my grief, to run away from the misery and heartache that drowned me beneath its crushing weight, if only for a moment.

I left the two friends and entered my secluded shed in the backyard, where I was restoring a 1969 Ford Mustang. It was my haven, the place I went when I wanted to forget about the world. And as time slipped away, that’s what I did.

Hours later, a knock sounded from the entrance, pulling me out from beneath the car hood.

“She’s asleep,” Nikita said as she entered, her tired features slanted down in weariness.

I cleared my throat, so as not to choke on my shame. I should have put my wife to bed, but instead, I left her care to that woman. Nikita was a godsend to my wife, to our family, propping us up in whatever way she could, never asking for anything in return.

“Thank you, Nikita. Truly. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

She tsked, pressing forward, gaze roaming over my car. “This is coming along nicely. You’ve made some adjustments,” she said, pointing to the newly installed radio.

I shrugged, slipping into the driver’s seat, my hand sweeping towards the passenger side in invitation, which she accepted.

“Progress is slow,” I muttered. “But it eases my mind…”

That’s when the atmosphere shifted, Nikita’s piercing green gaze seeing everything I didn’t want her to see. “How are you really, Will? Today was brutal.”