The Sorrow

  Chapter 6: Where The Heart Is Struck

  I was restless. I rocked back and forth in my chair, staring down at the gun in my hands. For years I had had it all wrong. It was never the badge that would ever command any respect or give me power. It was the gun. The weapon in my hand; its murderous intent. Most men revealed themselves when faced with death. I felt it in my bones. I was going to avenge my family. The thought made me feel alive. I considered my objective. It was only a matter of deciding who to visit first. But in many ways that choice had been made for me. Ray Coleman. He had been the easiest to trust. He was the least likely suspect. And he had just somehow known where to look on that map to find the surveillance room. That made him sit at the top of my list. I knew that I had trusted him, and that I had liked him. But I had already made too many mistakes, and perhaps he had been another. The costliest of them all.

  Finding out where he lived had been easy. I didn’t care whether he was home or not. All that I had was time. I could wait. The gun felt cold in my hands. I studied it. I imagined pulling the trigger and killing the man who had helped murder my family. I saw him die. And it was good. There was one certainty that I had above all else. One of the three men on my list would die by the end of the night. The only question was which one. Hell maybe they were all guilty. But I wasn’t going to find out by just sitting around. I coached myself into it, repeating it over and over in my mind that it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing I could do. It was what I had to do. I prepared myself mentally, running over what I would do again and again.

  Before I left there was something else that needed to be done. I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and laid it down onto the couch. If Sarah, or the mob for that matter, were keeping tabs on me then I wasn’t going to risk it. And I couldn’t arouse suspicion either. I would have to get a disposable phone soon. Or at least an alternative. But for now I was ready. I began walking towards my car refusing to break my stride or turn back. I tried to block everything else from my mind except for the task at hand. I didn’t think about the details, only the action. I fastened my seat belt and stared at my reflection in the rear view mirror. It was the face of a man who was sure. I gunned the engine and hurriedly backed out of my driveway. I sped down the road. I rolled down the window and embraced the icy wind on my face. I focused all of my attention on what was to come. And I felt alive.

  It was a long way to get to Coleman’s home. I didn’t mind. I imagined that I would be at it the whole night until I found the one responsible. The roads were not busy so I drove fast. I thought of Sarah. Would she understand why I had to do it? Probably not. And the man I was after was a cop. But I didn’t expect that I’d live all that long. I wasn’t planning on going to prison and if I did the mob would get me in there anyway. I was going to make damned sure that I took the bastards who killed my family down first. I would not waste away while they continued to feed off the city’s heart, and crush its people.

  I arrived at the house. It was small and cramped. I knew that Coleman lived alone. The man was so talkative that I felt prepared already. I killed the engine and all was quiet. I reached into my glove compartment and pulled out my gun. I slipped it into my jacket pocket and exited the car. There was no turning back now. I had to do this. I spent a few minutes thinking about my course of action. But my impatience got the better of me and I hurried towards his front door. It would be my last chance to walk away. Whatever happened after I faced Coleman, I had to see it through. I knocked three times. I heard a voice on the other side of the door. He was home. It was going to be easier than I thought. My heart rate quickened slightly as I heard the door being unlocked. It opened. Ray Coleman appeared with a can of Coke in his hand and a look of surprise on his face as he saw me.

  “Jack! This is so unexpected...”

  “Coleman. Mind if I come in? I’d like to talk to you.”

  He seemed completely taken back and unsure of himself.

  “Uh, of course, come in...” he stammered, opening the door and moving out of the way.

  I walked inside. His home was a bit on the messy side but it was simple in taste. He kept quite a bit of decorations around the house, however, and the air contained the smell of food. It was warm inside, as though he had had a heater on.

  “How have you been holding up, Jack? Considering...” he trailed off with obvious discomfort.

  “Fine,” I answered. I wasn’t interested in small talk. I wanted to know if there was anyone else here. “I’m not disturbing you am I? Are you alone?”

  “I’m expecting my nephew over in a little while. His parents have to go somewhere so he’s going to stay over at my place. Cute little guy.”

  That was a problem, but I expected that my business here would be done in minutes. Whatever happened after that was irrelevant. But the thought of a child in the equation did slow my resolve.

  “Please, sit down, Jack,” he offered, and followed suit to seat himself down on his couch with a sigh. The television was still on. Some show that I didn’t know was playing. Of course I didn’t know. I didn’t watch TV. I got comfortable and faced him without a word. He shifted awkwardly and took a sip of Coke.

  “What’s this about?”

  I decided that there was no reason to delay this. I was going to get right to the point.

  “You and I both know there was no way the mob could have anticipated that we were coming that night of the warehouse raid.”

  “It was suspicious,” he said.

  “There was a mole that night. In our group.”

  His eyes widened. My voice turned cold.

  “And I think that mole might have been you.”

  He dropped his can of Coke and it clattered to the ground loudly, its contents spilling over his floor. I took the gun out of my jacket pocket and aimed it directly at his heart.

  “Jack, I don’t...” he stammered.

  “Don’t even think about lying to me or I swear to God I’ll kill you right now and leave your body here for your nephew to find,” I spat, not recognising the cruelty in my voice.

  Coleman cried out as he raised his hands into the air.

  “I don’t know if you know this, but I moved departments. I transferred. After Kenway, the business at the warehouse...and then your family. It was too much. I’m sorry, but I’d never...”

  My anger faded as quickly as it had come. What was I expecting? That this timid officer who enjoyed patterns and working with evidence was secretly a killer? But his personality also made it very possible that he was being frightened into coercing with the mob. I raised the gun.

  “Wait! Easy!” he shouted, jumping in his seat, “Jack I swear on my life that I am not what you think I am. You can ask me anything you like, check my phone records...whatever. Jesus my nephew is a kid, I love my family. I’d never have done anything to hurt yours!”

  I could see it then. He truly was no threat. He was not capable of doing what I accused him of. I knew when someone was lying to me. I had gone after the wrong man. I let the gun fall.

  “I’m sorry. I had to be sure,” I said, feeling the weight of those words.

  Coleman was sweating, trembling even. There was nothing left to achieve with him. I stood. He started. I turned around to leave.

  “Jack! What are you going to do? Have you talked to the others?”

  “No, but I will. It ends tonight.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think you know.”

  It was a few long, drawn out seconds before Coleman spoke again.

  “I am terribly sorry about your family, Jack.”

  “Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

  I walked out.

  I sat in my car unsure of whether I felt relief, disappointment or anger. But at least I had eliminated one of the names. Only two remained now. I thought hard about which one I’d pay a visit to next. I thought of Marcus Fields. I couldn’t really profile him as the type. He was too loyal. He asked too few ques
tions and he just got on with the job. He had quite a decorated history as well. It gave me reason to worry that I barely knew anything about him, but I chalked that up to my own fault. And so I turned my attention to Will Harding. I thought about that night of the warehouse raid. I closed my eyes and tried to remember everything that I could. And then I recalled the smallest detail. Harding had looked uncomfortable during the briefing. It was very little to go on, but my gut said that he was the one I should visit next.

  I set the GPS in my car to Will Harding’s neighbourhood and drove off. I knew that he was married but I couldn’t remember if he had any kids. That may cause a problem, but for now he was the one I needed to talk to. I was sure of it. He was on the opposite side of the world from where I was. By the time I got to him it would be late. That worked well for me. I could surprise him.

  I was impatient this time. I drove fast, giving myself that liberty because the roads were empty. I jumped a few red lights. Irresponsible of me but the waiting made it worse. If I was to kill this man, I wanted it to be now. I admittedly had not given a whole lot of thought to what came after that. Preferably I killed him without his family knowing and left. Like a ghost. That way my fall was delayed. For a moment I reflected on how practically I was thinking about killing someone. I realised then that even though I felt alive, I didn’t particularly feel anything – any emotion. It was as though my body had hit the off switch and just like that...blackout. Curtains.

  Perhaps it was for the best. It would make what I was going to do a lot easier. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and accelerated. I was only minutes away now. The street was empty. The night was dead. The stage was set. Quicker than I thought the GPS spoke its final instruction and I was where I needed to be. I was looking at a great double-storey house. Earthly colours, warm and neat – it was exactly the kind of house Nicole would have loved. I climbed out of my car and advanced towards the door. His family was probably asleep. I reached up and rang the doorbell twice for good measure. I waited a minute. I rang the doorbell again. I saw a light turn on. I heard footsteps, then movement on the other side. It was followed by the sounds of the door being unlocked.

  It opened. Will Harding was standing there half-dazed in a plain white t-shirt and black pants. He had definitely been asleep. It took him a moment to even recognise me.

  “Jack? What are you doing here? Jesus, don’t you know the time?”

  I said nothing. The anger burned. I couldn’t explain the feeling that I had in my gut. But I was sure. And I knew how to get the answer I wanted. It would take a little bit of deception. I had to play my hand to perfection. But I was ready. I raised my gun. Will jerked, startled.

  “What the hell are you doing? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen, Will. You’re going to let me inside. You’re going to tell your wife not to come down, that everything is alright and it’s just something you need to look at for work. I don’t care what you tell her. If you try to warn her I will kill you. If you do anything other than what I instruct you to do I will kill you.”

  Will Harding stared, unable to comprehend a word I had said.

  “Do I make myself clear or do I need to drag your wife down here and point the gun at her head?”

  That got him to react. He stepped back and let me in and I ushered him forward, pointing in the direction of the living room. I indicated at a chair with my gun, directing him to sit. Then his wife’s voice sleepily called out to him. I pointed my gun between his eyes. Harding looked afraid. That was good. He took a deep breath and told his wife to go back to sleep, that it was just work and he’d be up in a minute. I nodded, satisfied. I sat down on his coffee table opposite him.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked, my voice harsh.

  Will shook his head.

  “The warehouse raid. I have thought back to it over and over again, replaying it in my head. And I kept coming back to the same conclusion: the mob could not have known that we were coming that night.”

  Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

  “Once I realised that the answer was obvious. There were three men Sarah and I brought into the operation and one of you ratted out the rest of us.”

  Will’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak no doubt to deny it. I carried on before he had the chance.

  “Stay quiet. Now because of that mole, my family was murdered.”

  “Jack...”

  I waved him off with my gun. I took a deep breath. It was time for my piece of deception.

  “I know it was you. I’ve already confirmed that it wasn’t Fields or Coleman. They were very cooperative once I made them see reason. All I want from you is a confession.”

  He was visibly distressed now, but he found his voice, “Jack, this is crazy. I don’t know where you’re coming with these accusations. I’d never-”

  I closed my eyes for just a moment, drowning out his bullshit and breathing in deeply. And when I spoke I let the anger take over and bear the brunt of the words.

  “My family died because of this. It is only fitting that I kill yours. It’s foolish to lie to someone who has nothing left to lose. I will murder your wife in front of you if you lie to me.”

  Will thrashed in his chair, “You fucking psychopath! I’m a police offer! I’m not with the mob!”

  I raised the gun, “I’m going to count to three. And then you’re getting a bullet in your leg. After that you can crawl behind me while I go fetch your wife.”

  “Jack, please!”

  “One.”

  I readied the gun, cocking it and ensuring that the bullet in the chamber was ready to fire.

  But that was all it took.

  “God no, stop!”

  I stared.

  “It was me, alright?”

  “What?”

  Will’s eyes showed desperation now, like a cornered animal.

  “I swear to God I had no idea what they were going to do. They approached me a long time ago. All they wanted was eyes and ears inside the force.”

  The anger became fire.

  “You bastard...” I said through gritted teeth.

  I knew that I had been right, but facing the reality was far worse than I had imagined it would be.

  “Jack, I was struggling to make ends meet and they offered me a way out. They offered to set me and my family up. All I had to do was keep them in the loop. I didn’t ask for this...”

  My hand tightened so hard on the gun that it ached. All I had to do was squeeze the trigger...

  “Jack, you have to believe me. I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it! I didn’t kill your family!”

  I lost it.

  “You loaded the gun!”

  I let out a violent growl and whipped Will across the face with my firearm. With a cry of pain he crashed to the floor. The anger controlled me then. My mind was gone. I gave in without any hesitation. I holstered my gun. Will tried to scramble to his feet. He made it half way. I savagely threw my hand out and caught the base of his neck. With tremendous force I threw him back down onto the ground with one hand. His back crashed into the floor hard. As I watched him, my mind somehow wondered off. Life was a funny thing. The mind picked the most peculiar of moments to dot the I’s and cross the T’s. I realised something now in the moment that I was in control. Strangely my mind processed the realisation despite what I was about to do. I was letting all of my subdued anger out in this moment. I saw myself through clear glass. I saw the rage that fuelled me now. I saw what I was about to do and I knew. All that I ever had been, had died with my family.

  I brought my foot down onto Will’s mid section and he gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He clutched his stomach and rolled, trying to climb to his feet. I waited, letting him. He threw a punch. Weak. Slow. I deflected it with ease, deterring his arm with mine and opening him up for a right hook. I gave it everything I had and he screa
med in agony as a sickening crunch sounded out in the room. My fist had connected directly with his nose, shattering it. Blood began to drip within seconds and he collapsed onto the ground in a heap, clutching his face and moaning. I circled him, ignoring the immense pain in my knuckles and hoping I had not done any damage to myself.

  “How many innocent people have died because of what you’ve done!”

  I dropped and punched him in the face.

  “How many of these dogs have walked away because you sold us out!”

  I hit him again. I heard rapid movement upstairs then. His wife had awoken and she came flying down the steps, calling out for Will. I ignored her.

  “How many times have you screwed us over and been rewarded for it with a paycheck?”

  I punched a third time. He was bleeding freely now and put up no resistance. Then his wife was there. She screamed. It was time. I took my gun out again and pointed it between Will’s eyes. I saw the choice I had to make. It was obvious. It was simple. Will laid there, unmoving, making it so easy. His wife was screaming, sobbing and pleading with me. The chaos eluded me. I only had one task.

  “Mummy!” came a small voice from upstairs.

  Startled I turned to look. It was a boy; couldn’t have been older than five. He took in me standing over his dad with a gun. He didn’t understand.

  But I saw the look in his eyes.

  And I saw myself through those eyes. What in God’s name was I doing? I wasn’t a murderer. I couldn’t kill this man in front of his own family. I wasn’t like the mob. I backed away, my resolve shattered. The child did not look away. I began to shake. I turned around and ran.

  I was pacing restlessly up and down my living room. I couldn’t bring myself to be calm. My hands were still bloody. The gun rested on my table. I was breathing heavily. I ran my hands through my hair. What had I done? They had seen me. I was finished. And I had left him alive - the man who had sold us out and had played a hand in getting my family killed. I had crossed a line. There was no turning back now. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I let out a loud breath of air and placed my hands against the wall, fighting to calm my mind.

  Out of nowhere, for the briefest of moments, my mind took me back to the dead body of my wife. As if my defences had vaporised. It took me back to that room; all the blood. No. Please no. Please not again, I begged. I raked my hair and closed my eyes, trying with everything that I had to hold on. There was no force on earth that could help me escape the nightmares. My mind flashed back again to the smell of iron in the room. The overwhelming stench of so much blood. I could smell it then. As though it were right in front of me. I could see their vacant eyes. I caught the faintest scent of my wife’s perfume once again. The face of my darkness was in that room.

  It struck me then that I was completely exhausted. Spent. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and escape. I wanted to leave the place I’d grown to hate, and the life I’d grown to resent. I scrambled over to my couch and fell down onto it, clutching the blanket around myself. My entire body was trembling. From what I did not know. It was not because of the cold. Five minutes passed. My eyes were heavy and slowly closed. Instantly I saw the blood once again. The bodies. My wife. I suffocated. I gasped for air and thrashed. I turned onto my side. I started breathing harder. In my mind my hand reached for the door to my home and I opened it. I saw the blood. I saw the bodies. I saw my daughter. My heart pounded against my chest. I felt hot. I threw the blankets off. I gripped my face in my hands.

  I couldn’t control my mind taking me back again. Back to that moment at the docks when I had decided to call it in. I could have walked away. I should not have even been there. I could have gone home. Just left. Trying to be a decent man in an indecent time was my sentence. I realised then with a grim finality. The good people always lost because they had more to lose.

  Why had I not walked away? God damn it why didn’t I just leave?

  I started to hyperventilate. I screamed profanities into the air. I was sweating. I couldn’t relax. I felt as if I never would. I’d never be okay again. I lurched off the couch and the room swayed. White noise filled my head. I crashed into my bathroom and faced the mirror over the basin. I gritted my teeth so hard the veins became visible on my forehead. The air was tight. I couldn’t stop my mind from revisiting my mistakes. The arrest at the docks. The choice that I had made then that had ruined my life. I thought of how I could have stopped it. Just walked away. As simple as that. The nightmares just kept returning; an endless loop crushing my spirit and tainting my soul. Hell opened its gates to me once again, welcoming me like a friend.

  I opened the tap violently and cold water blew out. I splashed my face. It did nothing but wake me up to the ache. I collapsed onto the ground in a heap and curled up. I could see red. My eyes caught a small drop of water that had splashed onto the wall. I stared at it. I watched it as it slowly and gently begin to slide down. I focused on it. I watched. I breathed as it sank. I watched. I breathed. I counted the seconds until the drop landed on the floor and disappeared. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to gently slip away and disappear. I wanted the pain to be brief.

  But it would never be. I shut my eyes tightly. Without realising it my breathing had slowed. For just a few moments I had clarity. I was calm. I could only hear my breathing. I knew, somewhere in my mind, that I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Severe anxiety attacks even. But knowing the cause of your pain didn’t cure it. It only made you hate the source. It made you hate it so much that the anger burned you up inside and the pain deadened all feeling. I didn’t feel anything in this moment, but the ache was as real as it could ever be. 

  I raised myself off the ground and rested my back against the wall. It seemed to have faded. I was calm for now. I closed my eyes and just breathed in and out. After a while, I didn’t know how long, I opened them. And I saw blood. It was my own. I had cut myself somehow. There was no pain. But I saw the blood. It flowed. It was startlingly bright on the white tiles. I clutched my head, willing the blood to go away. But it was the more relentless force, and it brought the nightmares back. I couldn’t live like this. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I escaped the bathroom, and once again went back to the gun beside my bed. I threw the draw open and grabbed it in my hand.

  I made sure I loaded it.

  The gun clicked, and the rest would be up to me. I hesitated. It was betrayal. My wife had saved me the first time I had wanted a way out. I was pathetic. But surely she would understand? She wouldn’t want me to suffer the way I was. I could do it. I had to. As I raised the gun to my head, preparing to pull the trigger, a small almost unreachable part of my mind hoped that the gun would jam. That someone would burst through the door and stop me. That a divine force would strip the weapon away from me and, with it, all of my pain. That Nicole would save me again. I realised then that for some reason I didn’t want to die. Not yet. My resolve faded. I ejected the clip, dropped the gun and fell onto the bed. I cried. And I prayed that Nicole would forgive me.

  I didn’t sleep the entire night. Not for a minute. It was early morning. I felt weak. I felt sick. But I had made it through the night. I was calmer. I knew that this could not carry on. For a little while over the last week I had freed myself from these nightmares. That was when I had known what I was going to do. When I had purpose. A distraction. Something to keep my mind off the pain. I thought of Sarah. Maybe returning to work would be a good idea. If only to keep my mind active and prevent it from being on its own to drag me into the abyss. It had now been nearly three weeks since my family’s murder. They said time made it easier. I was still waiting. I was so tired, but sleep eluded me. I had to get out there and do something or else I’d truly go crazy. I dialled Sarah.

  “Sarah.”

  “Hey Jack, are you alright? Sorry I’m in the middle of a case so I’m a little distracted.”

  “That actually works for me. I’ve been thinking about our talk the other day. It’s time
to get back to work. Sitting around at home is driving me crazy.”

  “Are you sure? You’re not rushing things? I don’t want to push you, but if you’re thinking about coming back then why don’t you try therapy again?”

  “Teresa was nice but I don’t want it anymore. I fed her some story about wanting to leave here and get help elsewhere. If I return to the force now it’ll be a problem.”

  Sarah sighed, “I’ll talk to her, Jack. It will be good to have you back.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  I put down the phone, deep in thought. I didn’t really want to go back. I didn’t care much for the force anymore. But being around Sarah helped. She made me feel the smallest part of myself again. And more than that I needed the distraction. I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I cleaned myself up. I tried not to think too much. I didn’t want to trigger the memories. I didn’t want to feel that again. I put on my jacket, thoughtlessly got into my car, turned the key and drove off to meet Sarah at the office. I barely paid any attention to the roads, the people or the life. I felt like an outcast to all of it. I didn’t feel like I belonged here. I carried on diving and just focused all of my energy on trying to stay awake. I almost smiled. Falling asleep behind the wheel would be a ridiculous way to die - or worse, land up in a hospital eating through a straw.

  When I finally reached the building I was relieved. I just sat in the parking lot and stared out into nothing. My mind wandered then and I thought about Will Harding. Would he be here? Had he told anyone? I doubted it. The man was a coward. I didn’t think that he had or even shown his face here today. He most likely was hiding under his sheets at home. But if he was here I’d face him and give him a reminder of what I could do. I felt the anger boil again. I gripped the steering wheel hard. That asshole. I knew what he had done. He was someone who had played a role in my family’s death. He had suffered no consequences for what he had done. He still had his family. A nice house. A kid. I felt a sudden violent surge within me, overpowering me. I wanted to hurt him. For a moment my mind flashed back to the dead body of my wife, and the mess that had remained of my daughter. I gasped for air and threw open the door of my car, climbing out and taking deep breaths as I tried to calm myself down. It wasn’t working. I kicked out at my car in frustration and I started walking briskly towards the entrance of the building. I rushed into the elevator, ignored the surprised looks from everyone who knew me and jabbed the button to reach Sarah’s office.

  I paid no attention to the officers I recognised here, even when some of them called out greetings and some commotion was made. I remained silent and headed straight to Sarah. I had scanned the room briefly. I had seen Marcus Fields. Ray Coleman wasn’t here. Either he was taking a sick day or perhaps he was telling the truth that he had transferred. I blocked it all out. I knocked on Sarah’s door and heard her answer. I entered.

  “Jack!” she exclaimed, her expression brightening.

  And for the first time today, I smiled. “Hey,” I said.

  She got up from her desk and shuffled over to me. She looked as though she was going to put a hand on my shoulder, but then she gave me a hug instead. It was nice. Quick though. She let go and pointed to a seat, encouraging me to sit. I did. She went back to her desk.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just hard to deal with the silence at home. Doing nothing makes it worse.”

  “I’m sorry. Like I said on the phone I’ve got a case if you’re interested.”

  “I am.”

  I took the file from her and started to skim over the contents. There was a murder in some apartment. A woman was killed. Other residents living in the same block had reported a heated argument during the night between the couple in room one-two-eight. I wasn’t sure how this constituted as a case. The information here alone pointed towards a domestic violence situation, and our prime suspect was obviously the woman’s partner. But the universe had a habit of throwing the unpredictable at you when you thought you had things figured out. And it was our job to investigate anyway. I looked up at Sarah.

  “I noticed Will Harding isn’t here today,” I said casually.

  She shrugged, “He came down with the flu according to his wife.”

  If I could I would have smiled.

  “So what’s the play here, Sarah?”

  She stretched, “We’ve already visited the crime scene so at the moment we’re trying to track down the woman’s boyfriend. He disappeared after the incident. I’ve spoken to his parents and they don’t know where he is so I’m following another lead. His parents said that he had visited them briefly but left to go on a guys’ night out with his best friend at some bar. I was planning to go over to talk to the friend. His name is-”

  I waved her off, “Before we do that could I take a look at the apartment?”

  She frowned, “They’ve taken the body away already. What do you want to see?”

  “You can tell a lot about a person by seeing their home. Especially with couples.”

  “Fair enough. We can take a look. It’s not too far off.”

  I got the impression that she was being purposefully accommodating towards me, but I didn’t mind. I needed to keep my mind occupied after all. I followed Sarah to her car and she told me to drive. I got in, buckled up and off we went. There was a bit of traffic so it would take a while to get to our destination. Sarah chatted to me during the drive. She told me about the case and about what she had been involved in since I had left. I listened quietly, appreciating the chatter.

  I then inexplicably had the urge to tell her about Will Harding. She was my close friend. She’d understand wouldn’t she? And she was at risk working with a mole. Maybe I had to tell her. But telling her meant revealing what I had done - what I had intended to do that night. She’d never have let me come back to work if she knew. She’d react badly and she’d be angry that I never came to her first. Unfortunately it was something that I had to keep to myself for now at least.

  The thought of Harding brought the rage back instantly. It was maddening to know what he had done. It was driving me crazy knowing that he was partly responsible for what had happened to my family yet he was still out there, living his life and facing no consequences. A broken nose was nothing compared to what he had done. I had tried to block it out so far. But I couldn’t let it go. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and I suddenly felt hot. Uncomfortable. Restless.

  “Jack! What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

  I heard her but my attention was focused on the road. I was lost in my mind. I blinked, trying to focus. Sarah was calling me. But there was a dull ringing in my ears. I clenched my teeth. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t goddamn fair. Will Harding had his family. He had everything I’d lost.

  “Jack, slow down! Please, breathe...”

  And then I saw her. On the street. Nicole was standing there, motionless, watching our car drive past. I stared, unable to believe my eyes. It felt surreal. I felt nauseous. I felt agony. I saw the blood. I saw the cuts. All over her body. I was burning up. I couldn’t breathe anymore. My head pounded. My vision blurred. I lost control.

  “Jack!” Sarah screamed, holding onto the dashboard.

  I had veered off the road and the car lurched onto the pavement and crashed through a picket fence. There was a loud noise as the wood splintered, and the car came to a halt on the house’s lawn. I pushed my weight against the car door and fell out, stumbling, falling onto my hands and knees on the grass. I was dizzy. I was struggling to breathe. I felt so sick I thought I’d vomit. My entire body felt as if it were ablaze. Sarah came up beside me and put her arm around my shoulder, telling me to breathe. I gasped and tried to bring myself under control.

  People from the street were rushing over to investigate, but many simply became spectators to my attack. But one of them came up close to us to see what was wrong. Sarah shouted at him to call an ambulance. The home owners then came on
to their lawn, staring in shock. Sarah told me that she was here for me. It was alright. I just needed to breathe. Slowly, the feeling began to dissipate. My grip on the grass loosened, and I inhaled deeply as I regained control over my body again. I coughed, feeling weak, and I held onto Sarah for support. My hands could not stop trembling. It took a long time for me to finally feel normal again.

  “I’m sorry. I saw Nicole.”

  Sarah’s grip on my shoulder tightened. Her face went white.

  “It’s okay, Jack. I’m taking you home now...”

  I let her guide me back to the car.

  I was feeling depressed. Overwhelmingly sad. And even more than that I felt useless. There were few worse feelings than not being in control of what happened to you. I had fooled myself into thinking that I was going to be okay. I was never going to be alright. I was getting worse. Sarah had laid me down onto the bed in my room and I had been too tired to offer resistance. I had not told her that I hadn’t slept for more than a day. But I wasn’t naive enough to blame my hallucination on that alone. Sarah sat on the bed now and held my hand. I hadn’t spoken. I was miserable down to my very core.

  “Jack, what happened?” she asked after a long time of quiet.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. I felt ashamed.

  “You said you saw her. Nicole.”

  “On the street while driving. I saw her as clearly as I see you now.”

  “Maybe you saw someone that looked like her.”

  I hesitated, but only for a moment. I needed to get it out. “There was blood all over her clothes...cuts on her neck and arms.”

  I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. They rolled down the side of my head. Sarah gripped my hand tighter.

  “I’m sorry...” I whispered.

  “Don’t be. It’s okay. It will take time, Jack. I won’t give up on you, okay? I’m here. You just have to call.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You know you don’t have to.”

  “I do.”

  We didn’t talk much after that. Eventually Sarah told me that it was getting late, and she asked me if I wanted her to stay. I didn’t respond so she told me that she’d slip out, go get some things, and come back. I felt panic inside me. I didn’t want to be alone. Without any distractions. I was afraid of where my mind would take me, and what I would see. But how was I to tell her? I was pathetic. And so she left, and I was once again alone in the darkness and silence. I dragged myself away from the bed, not wanting to be in the room. I realised then the real power of love. My family had made me feel alive. Like I had had everything. Like nothing could take away the happiness that I had felt. But the worst pain in love was losing it. And now I felt a pit inside me, eating away at my core, endlessly tormenting me and crushing my soul. It was cruelly poetic how love had once given my life all its meaning, but now it left me a wasted, empty shell. And in that moment I no longer understood the fear of divine judgment. Even hell’s most vile punishment could not be worse than the bleeding hole in my heart.

  I found myself back in the living room and eyeing the TV set. Maybe I could find a distraction on there. Some crappy comedy or movie to keep my mind off things. I wearily sat down on my chair and lifted the remote to turn the TV on. I felt so miserable that I wished I could just sleep, or better yet cease to exist. I felt as though I’d never be happy again. The TV powered on. I almost screamed. There was a dead woman laying in a puddle of blood, her body mutilated from multiple stab wounds. The shock left my heart in shambles. It was just some CSI show. I changed the channel in annoyance and it went to the news. The reporter on-screen was speaking about the dead woman in the apartments. In a surge of anger I threw the remote onto the floor and the back cover shot off along with one of the batteries. I cradled my head in my hands. I felt like I was at the centre of a sick joke. Everyone else was in on it except for me, and I was the only one not laughing. I couldn’t escape this feeling. I started to feel that uncomfortable warmth again. I felt another wave of nausea. I couldn’t go through the torment again.

  And then I heard it. A slow, steady, rhythmic ticking. It was from the clock up on the wall. I glanced up at it, barely able to read it. The clock continued to tick. Mechanical, lifeless and without cause. It just carried on ticking. I watched it for the longest time. Strangely it brought a small sense of peace. I didn’t realise that I was crying. I felt so empty. I felt like an observer to my own body. I just sat and watched the clock. Sometimes I thought that the only reason I hadn’t turned to the bottom of the glass or something worse was because Nicole despised it. I wasn’t a drinker. Never had been. But I just longed for the idea of escapism. I just needed the silence. I needed the peace. It was tempting. But I would never betray my wife’s memory. Not after I had loaded that gun.

  I was so tired. All the time. I rubbed my eyes, but I could not dismiss the exhaustion. My body was wrecked and so was I. Today I had hallucinated badly. I already couldn’t trust my mind and now I couldn’t trust my eyes either. It was just a matter of time before the rest of the dominoes that held me together collapsed. I was falling apart. My eyes felt so heavy. I sank into the couch. Where was Sarah? It felt like ages since she had left. I did not want to be alone in the pit.

  My eyes half closed. I faded. I abruptly saw a shadow. I didn’t know what it was. It reached toward me. My mind began to drift. I began to feel oddly displaced from my body. It felt so surreal. I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep. I felt almost catatonic. It was so peculiar. And then the visions began. I saw my family. They were dead. There was so much blood. I stirred. I didn’t know if I was trapped in a nightmare. I couldn’t put together any coherent thoughts. I hardly felt alive.

  The world began to darken. An echo sounded out in my ears, the remnants of an unbearable torture. My head sagged and began to pound; a dull ache that subdued my strength. My entire body felt hot. I ripped the top two buttons of my shirt off in an attempt to get some air. I brushed my forehead. My hand came away wet. The noise seemed to drown out the room, and all I could hear were my shallow breaths.

  Suddenly there was a new sound. A ringing. And a rumbling. It was loud. It swept through the house. It was nearby. Right next to me. I looked over, dazed. My vision was hazy, and the room was spinning. It was my mobile phone. The screen’s light was on. It was ringing. I feebly reached over and grabbed my phone. I raised it to my eyes. I tried to see who it was. The number was incomprehensible. I didn’t care. Maybe a call would offer a brief distraction and take me out of this. I put it to my ear and answered. I felt so tired. So weak.

  “Hello?” I rasped.

  Silence. The quiet stretched on. For slow, measurable moments. Then I heard a voice.

  “Daddy...”

  The world collapsed.

  “Please come find me...”

  I made no sound. There were sudden cackling noises on the other end. A child’s shrill cry. The line went dead. I dropped the phone. All feeling and all warmth left my body.

  I fell.