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Don’t—
He sighed sadly. “Well...he’s not breathing at present.”
It’s not real.
This isn’t real.
Wake up, Nee.
Wake up!
“Silence?” he drawled. “I must admit, I expected a scream.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’m sure you always knew this wouldn’t last.”
“Please...” The world went stark white. I clung to sanity as my heart fissured down the middle. “Please let me speak to him.”
“You will never speak to him again.”
Even now.
Even with my intuition screaming and ears ringing, I didn’t believe it.
I couldn’t.
It just isn’t possible.
Surely, I’d feel different.
Feel his loss.
Feel an emptiness.
A howling, hollowing, cavernous vacuum.
“You’re lying,” I choked.
“I’m telling the truth,” Cem Kara hissed. “My son was stolen from me. He died when he was just eight months old, and whoever this man is, dead at my feet, he has finally been dealt with.”
I gasped.
I grunted.
I dropped to my knees. “You’re lying. You’re lying! He’s alive. He’s—”
“Gone.” A long-suffering sigh followed by, “Pleasure talking to you, daughter. Do what my son suggested, and don’t attempt to come here. You stay where you belong, and I’ll stay where I belong.” His tone softened. “My condolences. I know what it’s like to lose him, and it’s the worst pain imaginable. I’ll tell you what, if the pain becomes too much to bear, call me. I’ll keep this phone so you can reach me. After all, we are family now.”
“Stop,” I breathed. “Stop lying and—”
“He’s gone. I pulled the trigger myself.”
“He was in a crowd.”
“He was in an alley, courtesy of my men shepherding him to where I wanted.”
I cracked right down the middle.
A splitting. A ripping.
I can’t breathe...
“Goodbye, Nerida Taylor.”
The line went dead.
And for one terrible moment, I didn’t feel anything.
Not one blessed thing.
But then, it gathered.
It churned.
It built and built and spun and spun, and when it collided, I broke.
He’s...gone.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s—
I fell to my hands and knees.
I opened my mouth.
And screamed.
I screamed.
And screamed.
I screamed as my parents fell out of their bedroom.
I screamed as they gathered me close.
I screamed as my insides tore to pieces and my heart bled dry and the world went dim.
My lower belly sliced with despair.
I screamed.
I roared.
I howled.
I screamed and screamed and screamed...until I fainted.
Chapter Thirty-Two
*
Nerida
AGE: 20 YRS OLD
*
(Love in Javanese: Tresna)
POP.
Pop.
Pop.
That quiet puff that sounded like a champagne cork was the only thing I could hear on a loop inside my head. The bullet piercing Aslan. The weapon’s noise as he died.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Great heaving sobs cracked my ribs as I curled into a ball.
I didn’t know where I was.
I didn’t care.
I was gone.
No more.
Dead.
I couldn’t handle the absolute crippling despair.
He’s gone.
He killed him.
He’s—
I screamed.
I kept screaming.
My throat oozed with blood.
My ears rang from horror.
My insides kept stabbing and slicing, killing me from the inside out.
I was glad.
I wanted to die.
I needed to die.
I had to chase him, follow him, find him.
This life was over.
But the next hadn’t begun.
I can find him.
Before it’s too late.
We could be together again.
Somewhere else.
Somewhere new.
With new faces and new fates. New lifetimes and new promises.
I’m coming, Aslan...wait for me.
“You have to do something!” my father’s voice yelled over my shrill screams. “She hasn’t stopped since we found her in the corridor like this.”
Hands pressed me down.
The blur of doctors surrounded me.
A bright light in my eyes.
I screamed and thrashed.
I broke and crumpled, not caring my heart skittered out of control or adrenaline made me sick.
The sooner I died, the sooner I could find him.
I need to find him.
“ASLAN!” I punched the closest person holding me in this life. I kicked at another. I fell off the hospital bed where I’d been placed.
Feet pounded as reinforcements came running.
I was picked up.
Carried.
Shoved back down.
More hands imprisoned me.
“Please!” Mum’s sobs cut through the ringing in my ears. “She’s going to kill herself if she continues! Give her something. Anything!”
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
The gunshot.
The firing.
The split-second ending that stole Aslan’s life.
I screamed and howled.
I screeched and sobbed.
I couldn’t contain my anguish.
There wasn’t enough lifeforce inside me to withstand it.
I was dying.
Withering.
Haemorrhaging.
“Aslan!”
“She’s going to have a heart attack if you don’t do something!” Dad roared.
“Administer a sedative,” someone commanded. “Now.”
“But, Doctor, her blood work from Townsville University Hospital came back. It shows she’s—”
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
I hissed and struck at the people holding me down.
I needed to run.
To disappear into the sea and swim to Aslan.
He needs me!
He’s on that wreckage.
Shipwrecked by a storm.
He’s drowning...
“ASLAN!”
“Just give it to her,” Dad bellowed. “I can’t stand this. I can’t handle seeing her like this. DO SOMETHING!”
“Do it.” Hands pushed my shoulders against the bed.
My eyes flared as I studied the crush of doctors through my river of tears. “Nerida...listen to me. You need to stop, alright? Take a deep breath, and we won’t have to sedate you.”
I stilled for a moment.
I played possum until the pressure on my shoulders softened.
And then, I launched up.
I fought and won.
I fell off the bed again and tried to leap to my feet.
