Shaking, I cried, “Oh, god... I don't know what any of this means. The last time because you're leaving me again? Or the last time because you're going to,” but then I paused. Could I really ask what I was thinking? Could I actually say those words to the man I loved more than my own life? Could I really be thinking about his end in a way that was so shocking and unimaginable to me? Could I ask it?
“Sophie, I adore every single piece of you. I always have, and I always will. I'm sorry I was unkind to you when I left, and I'm sorry I hurt you 10 minutes ago. I knew what I was doing, but I didn't care because I just needed to feel you and touch you and be inside you again. I needed to feel you around me. But I'm sorry that that's the last memory you'll have of me. I'm really very sorry for that.”
“It's okay...” I smiled into the darkness. And it was okay. Peter took me without me, but he was sorry, so everything dark inside me faded away with his apology.
“It's really not okay- I know that. And if we had more time, I would make love to you like you deserve and I would love you like you should be loved. But we don't have time, so all I can do is tell you that you are absolutely everything to me. You are the strongest, most beautiful person I have ever known, and in case I don't have the chance to say it again- I love you,” he whispered as I cried softly.
I knew what he was doing. I knew he was saying goodbye again, because I knew he was leaving me again. My brain spun with the realization that Peter was in trouble and he might not make it out safely. I realized as crazy as that simple reality was, it was just that- Peter's reality. He was involved deeply in something I couldn't understand, and would probably never really know. So I needed him to know everything I could when I had the chance.
“You need to listen to me Peter,” I said turning and climbing over his naked chest. “I need you to come back, and I need you to finish whatever this job is. I need you to be safe, and I want you to know I will wait,” but when he tried to interrupt me I continued over him. “I’m going to wait, because I know we have something once in a lifetime. I know it, and so do you. So when I leave tonight or tomorrow morning, or whenever I have to go, know I'll be waiting for you.”
“But I don't know when I'll be free to see you-”
“It doesn't matter. You are my forever. And just knowing that will give me the strength I need to wait for you. But you have to promise to come back. You have to promise you'll stay safe and finish this job. You have to promise me you'll come back, just like I'll promise to wait. Can you do that? Can you promise me you'll come back to me?” I begged Peter with everything I had. As my tears fell on his chest, and my body warmed with purpose, I begged him.
He couldn't see my face, but he could hear my voice. And I was never so sure of anything in my life. I would wait forever for him. I would wait forever for my forever with Peter.
When I was suddenly pulled down to his face he kissed me hard. He didn't kiss me like his usual sensual kiss of devotion, he kissed me like a pact, and like a promise. He kissed me like the forever he wanted to be.
“I'll come back, Sophie. I promise. I have to get in touch with my handler, then I'll know if my partner betrayed me.”
“What's a handler?” I asked again confused by Peter's reality.
“Nothing. He's nothing you ever need to know about. Just know I'll be back to love you again. And you're right, I am your forever, Soph. I always was. I just couldn't stay when I wanted to, but I promise I'll be back,” he said again in a near whisper against my lips.
After his words, I exhaled and dropped lower onto Peter, snuggling under his neck to just breathe him in.
A random thought struck me though and I suddenly giggled, totally disrupting our beautiful moment of promises and confessions. I giggled, even as Peter pinched my butt and asked, “What?”
“Um... I was just thinking about all the people I called too much CSI watching TV Fucktards, and I feel the need to apologize to everyone. I was pretty shocked by the people who thought you were an undercover cop. I am pretty shocked that people are actually undercover cops. It's just so weird, but kind of cool, I guess. I definitely owe Margaret and Terry some apologies,” I giggled again. “But I guess I can't because that would be confirming it, right?”
“Um, right. Quite frankly, I may have to look into another line of work if I can't even hide my undercover status from 2 hippies in a health food store,” Peter laughed under me.
And smiling against his chest, I whispered, “Please do...” as Peter hugged me a little tighter to his chest.
“I love you, Sophie Morley.”
“I love you, too, Peter Connor?”
“Yes,” he laughed. “I really am Peter Connor, just not quite the Peter you knew. But everything between us was real, and everything I was with you was really me, I promise.”
“Okay. Should we go? Do you need to leave? I don't want to keep you from doing something, or interfere in whatever you're doing.”
“I'm okay for an hour or so. But I want to get dressed before we lie with each other a little longer. I want to hold you right now because I'm not sure when I'll be back to get you. I'm not sure when I'll be in the clear.”
So I nodded against him and embraced his hug as the only thing he could give me until he was free to give me everything.
After Peter and I made our oath to be together once again, we dressed quickly, looking everywhere for our discarded clothes. And once dressed, we snuggled in a beautiful silence wrapped around each other, until the whole world exploded around us in a barrage of light.
Literally.
CHAPTER 38
Gasping at the sudden light around us, I was tossed backward by Peter as I slammed into the wall. Screaming, I hit the wall until it knocked me silent. Scrambling against the wall as Peter pushed harder into me, I was absolutely blinded by light and panic.
I had never known such an intensity of fear in my life as I did in that moment. I was sure we had been found and I was sure we were dead.
Grabbing my leg and arm, Peter tossed me off the bed until scrambling to stand, he dragged my knees across the floor to a door in the corner. Dragging me, I cried out when he pulled my hair and arm, as I crawled as quickly as I could to the door. I scrambled, but ultimately I was dragged by Peter to the door and pushed inside.
Gasping for breath, I was still struggling just to understand the events of only one minute before. I couldn't understand how we went from laying together peacefully on a bed to me thrown and tossed about, injured and scared beyond anything I could even comprehend.
When Peter suddenly pulled me up into his arms and closed the door behind us, I knew I was looking at Peter at his worst. He was breathing hard and his eyes were darting all over the tiny washroom we ended up in. There was only a little light that escaped the doorway into the room, but it was enough to see his face. His hands shook as he held me and he didn't make eye contact with me even once. Peter was a mess and as the seconds slowly passed, he finally looked at me, and I could see he was someone else.
Peter was the ghostly version of himself from just hours before sitting on the sidewalk, swearing, and shaking, with eyes that no longer looked even blue. His pupils were so blown they swallowed up all the blue I had once loved.
“Don't say a word, Sophie,” he whispered in my ear as he held a hand over my mouth. So nodding, I tried to show him I could be silent. “You distracted me,” he said angrily as I shook in his grip. “All my weapons are downstairs. I fucking left them downstairs because I needed to be with you. Fuck! Okay... Don't fucking move, Sophie,” he growled as he released the hand from my mouth, and loosened the tight hold he had around my chest.
Dropping me to the floor silently, Peter looked around frantically and I didn't dare speak. I was so scared, I suddenly understood the feeling of lightheadedness associated with true, blind panic in that moment. My mind was so wrapped up in what was going to happen, my body reacted on its own to what was actually happening.
“We're fucked, Sophie,” he
said softly as he kissed my forehead.
And I remember in that moment thinking about the word fuck and how Peter had said it more in the last 45 seconds of our life together than he had for the months we were actually together. I know it was illogical, but that's where my brain went in my confused desperation until he spoke again.
“I'm not going to make it out of here,” he said simply as I gasped. “Oh, Sophie, I'm not. I'm so sorry, baby. But it doesn't matter. I want you to be safe. This is my job, so I'm ready to be taken, but I can't have you hurt. Never again. I want-”
Begging, I whispered, “Peter, please? We'll be fine. We just have-”
“Listen. To. Me. I'm going downstairs to see who entered. And then I'm going to cause a distraction. I'm going to fight for as long and as hard as I can, and then I'm going to yell your name so-”
“You can't-” but he spoke right over me again.
“I'm going to yell your name and I want you to run past me. Run as hard as you can. Run through the alley down to Cedar and flag anyone at all. Flag anything and get the fuck out of here. Can you do that?”
“No... I can't just run while you-”
“Are you ready to die for me? Are you, Sophie? Can you honestly say you're prepared to take a bullet in the head for me? Because that's what's-” But then we both froze.
A sound came right outside the little bathroom door, and my gasp was so loud, Peter jumped as he glared at me and covered my mouth quickly. Holding me to him, Peter stared me silent again, as he slowly removed his hand.
Mouthing, “I’m sorry, Sophie,” my heart shattered in my chest. With another gasp I couldn't help, and a sob that tore from my chest, I was killing us quicker than I intended, but there was no helping it. I was destroyed in that moment with Peter.
Looking at Peter anxiously waiting with a hand on the bathroom door for whoever was coming, I was so numb to our end I felt lost.
Thinking quickly about my escape, I realized I didn't really want to. I knew it was insanity, but I didn't want to leave him alone to fight. My fight or flight had kicked in, and for the very first time in my life, I didn’t want to flee. I wasn't going to leave the man who loved me alone, and I wasn't going to choose my needs over his.
For the very first time in my life, I was going to fight for the love I wanted instead of abandoning it.
So taking Peter’s hand again, while listening to the sounds beyond our corner washroom, I whispered, “I love you,” as I nodded at the door.
“Sophie. They might be cops sent by my partner. You can't, baby.”
But I just nodded harder toward the door, and whispered again, “I love you,” as Peter paused to stare at me before slowly nodding his head. Peter nodded and somehow I knew he had just agreed to our death sentences. He agreed to the end of us, and in a weird way I was resigned to our end.
I had one fleeting thought of my mom which quickly morphed into thinking of my beloved brother Steven, but somehow I hoped they would understand. I wasn't committing suicide, though agreeing to fight by Peter's side was an act of suicide nonetheless.
I was going to fight I decided, but I was suddenly out of time.
With a dramatic push, everything exploded around us again.
Peter was fighting before I even knew what was happening, and I was jumping through the doorway at one of the men before I could even reason our surroundings.
Fighting every fear I had, I tried to land a punch but was knocked right on my ass within seconds. Landing hard, the breath left my chest as I gasped, and my head spun with the pain of the assault. But I could hear Peter still.
Hearing Peter fight and yell and swear gave me a little strength. Trying to see what was happening, I managed to flip over to my stomach as I forced my legs beneath me to stand. Crouching on the floor, I had one more burst of energy to run or fight, so screaming I tried to engage in the fight for Peter and my life.
Like a warrior cry, I screamed into the brightness of the loft, even as a gunshot rang out around me, which signaled the end of us.
The gunshot effectively stopped my fight and Peter's agonized yell announced my end.
Dropping onto my butt, I lowered my head, placed my hands on the floor beside me, and I waited for the bullet in the head Peter had described.
Waiting, I never made eye contact and I didn't acknowledge my end in the slightest. Peter was dead, and I was next. I knew I was next, and other than maybe being raped again beforehand, I could think of nothing worse than knowing I was sitting feet from my dead forever.
But nothing happened.
I heard talking and noises, and more noises and more talking but I understood nothing. I felt like those sad victims who know they're about to be executed, but they sit up on their knees with their hands raised behind their heads waiting, because they know nothing is going to change the outcome. They just kneel knowing they're about to be killed and with a last moment of pride and defiance, they lower their head, whisper a quick prayer, and wait for the bullet to claim them.
I could think of nothing but Peter, and I could hear nothing but Peter's last agonized scream before he died. Over and over, I heard his last scream and then the deafening silence that surrounded us. I heard his scream and his silence as I waited.
But the bullet never came.
Eventually, sounds and voices permeated my brain, until I was roughly picked up and pushed against a wall. Moving as I was pushed, I didn't fight, or even try. There was nothing left to do.
When I was moved to the stairs, I finally lifted my head and was stunned still. Even as the arms holding my hands behind my back shoved me a little harder, I simply couldn't move. I was just too stunned to move.
Looking down the opened staircase of the loft I took in the scene before me. Looking, I tried to understand what I was seeing. Looking, I tried to grasp reality from delusion, but I was too lost to see it. I was surrounded by me, and I was shocked into a living nightmare.
Looking, every single inch of wall space were paintings of me, sketches, drawings, or my name splattered with paint. There were hundreds of me everywhere you looked. I was living in a freak show funhouse of myself, gasping and turning, as the arms behind me held me from falling down the stairs.
“Oh my god...” I moaned as I shook my head to clear it. I shook my head but nothing cleared. I was overwhelmed by the view in front of me. I was overwhelmed as I looked at everything Sophie Morley all around me.
From the colorful mess on the walls, to my name spelled with paint on the carpets, every surface was a mosaic of Sophie Morley. Even the wall beside the very stairs I stood still on had my name written upon its ascent in dark purple paint.
“What is this...?” I begged, but no one answered me as the world started spinning around me.
My chest began beating very hard and fast in my chest as my breathing turned ragged and labored. I could feel the irregular beats in my chest squeezing tighter and tighter until gasping, I moaned, “I can't breathe,” to no one and everyone around me.
Suddenly leaning forward, I was sat hard and fast on the step I was stuck on as my hands were loosened. I was still held with a hard hand on my shoulder, but I felt nothing greater than the shaking my whole body suffered.
Words were spoken, and directions were given. But I heard and saw nothing.
When a man was suddenly kneeling in front of me, removing bloody gloves, my devastation was complete.
Gasping quickly, my body arched backward, smashing into someone else as I tried to reach for my own chest. Gasping for breath as each silent sob assaulted me, I could do nothing. There was nothing left in me. I was going to die I knew, and it was painful and terrifying. It was not a quick peaceful death in the night, and it was not an easy end with the man I loved.
It was hard and painful and so shocking in its intensity, I begged anyone to kill me. I begged them all to kill me. I begged the man before me and the man behind me. I begged as I tried to reach for my own chest. I begged to die as my eyes closed to my inevitable
death.
The breaths in my body came too infrequently for any strength left and the pain was too unbearable to continue. I couldn't continue, so I closed my eyes and begged them all to kill me.
I didn't pass out for long though- just long enough to be moved down the stairs by someone until I opened my eyes again to me everywhere, which was so disorienting, I felt all the anxiety rise again inside me. And it was weird and nauseating, and simply overwhelming to see so much me all around me.
But I managed to ask anyone and no one specific, “Did they get Peter?”
“Who?” A woman asked but I couldn't answer. I didn't know if she meant who-Peter? Or who were they? I didn't know what I could say, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know if these were the very bad people who killed Peter.
And then it hit me. Peter was dead.
Crying out, I screamed his name as I gasped with the pain. I was lost in it. I was nothing more than a pain so intense, I couldn't see or feel or hear beyond it. The pain struck hard and fast and ripped the life from my soul.
Peter was dead.
And I was lost.
CHAPTER 39
I can't even describe the series of events that took place after Peter was killed.
I remember being in shock and screaming and crying forever until my fate was simply taken from my own hands. I was manhandled and fought, and taken, and eventually even sedated.
I was wrapped in my misery, fading in and out of life unsure of my own existence and unaware of my physical mortality. I was neither living nor dead. I was in a deranged purgatory with people all around me.
But I was no longer aware of anyone or anything other than my loss.
My love was lost, never to be mine.
Eventually some speech permeated my fog when I found myself in a hospital once again. I was in another hospital, months after my rape and I was starting to listen to all the people.