by Sweet, Izzy
3
Sophia
I’m not a stranger to death.
Ever since my mother was killed six years ago in a car accident, it’s something I’ve thought about often. Her passing was so quick, so out of the blue and sudden, the shock has lingered in the back of my brain.
Ever present.
Like a dark shadow stalking me, I carry around the awareness that I or anyone else I care about could go at any second.
Yet being aware of the danger doesn’t seem to offer any protection when it happens.
There was no protection from the shock and pain when my childhood friend Lindsey was murdered in cold blood in front of me.
There was no protection from the fear of it when I stood on the wrong end of a barrel.
And it hurts just as much now staring at my father’s flag-covered casket as it did when I looked upon my mother’s.
The pain is so sharp, so all-consuming, my mind and body have gone numb from it.
Above me, the sky is overcast, the threat of rain heavy in the air. At least a hundred people have gathered here in Saint Michael’s cemetery, most dressed in uniform, ready to pay their last respects.
My father is gone.
Gone to become ash and dust.
And now I’m all alone in this cursed world.
The only one in my family left standing.
Beth tightly squeezes my right hand while Amanda leans into my left side, her tears soaking my shoulder.
But even their presence isn’t enough to fill this hole of abandonment.
My rock, my shield, is gone.
What am I going to do without him?
The priest finishes his prayer and bagpipes start to play Amazing Grace as police officers lift the American flag from my father’s coffin.
Once the flag has been painstakingly folded, Jacob Morrison, the Deputy Police Chief, approaches me, bearing it in his white-gloved hands.
“I’m so sorry, Sophia,” Morrison murmurs quietly as Beth drops my hand and Amanda straightens from my shoulder. “I know this hurts, but his sacrifice—"
Staring blankly at his face, I immediately start to tune him out.
I’ve heard the words bravery, sacrifice, and honorable so much I want to scream.
They say them as if any of those things would make this situation a little more bearable. A little more okay.
It doesn’t.
Those three words mean nothing to me. They may comfort the people saying them. Help them sleep better at night. But to me… they’re simply empty excuses.
My father is dead.
And nothing can change it.
Nothing can bring him back.
Nothing makes what happened hurt any less.
I’ll never get to see him again.
I’ll never again get to feel his hug or hear his laughs.
I’ll never again get to see his eyes light up when I tell him I love him.
But worst of all… I’ll never get to hear him say he loves me back.
God, I’d do anything to have him back.
Gently, Morrison pushes the flag into my arms when I make no move to accept it from him.
He murmurs a few more words, words that no doubt soothe him more than they do me.
Then he’s gone, and I’m left clutching the last remaining object that was near my father.
Suddenly realizing this is the last thing I will ever have from him, I hug the flag tightly to my chest.
The priest says a few final words and Beth and Amanda press closer as the gathered crowd rises and begins to move about.
I watch everything move in slow motion, as if I’m seeing it in a dream through someone else’s eyes.
Faces blur together as condolence after condolence is offered to me, and I try my best to accept each one gracefully.
My mother was full of natural grace and people loved to be around her because of her warm and bubbly personality.
I’ve always tried to emulate her, especially since she passed away.
To be more like her for my father…
But he’s gone now. Gone on to join her without me.
And I’m still numb inside.
Eventually the sea of dark blue begins to dissipate as the mourners return to their cars, and the path to my father’s casket becomes clear.
I know what I have to do…
Even if I don’t want to.
I have to say my last goodbye.
Taking a deep breath, I try to steel myself. Try to remain numb.
Like I’m in a daze, I take my first step forward.
Dread starts to form in the pit of my stomach, but I force myself to take another step.
Then another.
Someone says my name. “Sophia.”
I don’t know if I’m simply grateful for the interruption or if I do it out of sheer instinct, but I glance up.
The first thing I see is a dark figure standing alone beyond my father’s casket, watching from afar.
“Sophia.”
Someone touches my left elbow, drawing my attention to that direction.
“Let me give you a ride home,” Trent Morrison says, seemingly appearing out of thin air.
I blink at him in confusion.
I didn’t even realize he was here… But, of course, he would be.
His face finally comes into focus as he tries to slip in an arm around me.
I manage to side-step him at the last second and shake my head.
Trent has always been a little overbearing and overprotective. Sometimes it’s cute, but most of the time it’s simply annoying.
Especially today.
I don’t have the will or patience to deal with him today, of all days.
“You shouldn’t be alone.” Trent scowls down at me and tries once more to get his arm around me.
Not only is he overbearing and overprotective, but Trent is also conveniently oblivious to my rejections.
He never takes a hint.
And it’s only gotten worse since he graduated from the academy and started working under his father, Jacob Morrison.
I suppose the fact that our fathers are both close friends and high-ranking police officers doesn’t help.
But I’ve never been into Trent.
Our families have been trying to push us together since high school, but there’s just something about him. Something I can’t quite put my finger on that rubs me the wrong way.
Thankfully, my father backed off after the whole Russian ordeal, and I haven’t seen much of Trent since.
Why is he bothering me now?
“She’s not alone,” Johnathan, Beth’s husband, growls as he stomps over to us, abandoning the conversation he was having with the priest.
Trent stiffens as Johnathan walks right up to stand between me and him, putting his body between us.
Johnathan is a big man, and the suit he’s wearing doesn’t take away from that fact. If anything, it only makes it more obvious. Especially since it looks so foreign on him. With all the tattoos on his neck and hands, his long, dirty blond hair, and bushy beard, he looks almost absurd squeezed into the suit the way he is.
Lip curling with disgust, Trent glares at Johnathan. “My father—”
Smirking at the look on Trent’s face, Johnathan cuts him off. His deeper voice drowning him out. “You go tell your father, boy, that he doesn’t have to worry about her. She’s in good hands.”
Jaw snapping shut, Trent’s eyes flash with anger. For a second, he looks like he wants to say something. Something probably insulting. Then he shakes his head and tries to simply step around Johnathan.
Having none of it, Johnathan immediately moves to block him off. “I said go, boy,” he says, starting to sound angry as he puffs his chest out.
Johnathan and I haven’t always gotten along. There was a time, back when he and Beth first hooked up, that I felt like he hated my guts.
But over the past few months, we’ve slowly and gradually been growing more cordial.
It also probably helps that despite the fact that my father is… was… the Police Chief, I pretend I don’t know Johnathan is a member of the most powerful criminal organization in Garden City.
So the fact that’s he’s sticking up for me right now is not only surprising, it’s touching in a way.
Trent tries once more to step around Johnathan, his eyes meeting mine. “Sophia,” he practically pleads.
Hoping he’ll get the hint this time and go away, I turn my back on Trent and face my father’s casket.
“I’m not going to say it again, go,” I hear Jonathan warn, and feel an immense amount of gratitude when Trent sighs in defeat.
“Fine,” Trent says in frustration before raising his voice. “But I’ll be checking in on you later, Sophia.”
“You’ll leave her alone if you know what’s good for you,” Johnathan grumbles under his breath after a few moments.
Taking that as a sign that Trent has finally left, I close my eyes and try to steel myself again.
Then I open them and take the last dreaded steps.
Approaching my father’s casket, the numbness I’ve used as protection begins to crack.
I don’t know if I can do this.
I don’t know if I can say goodbye yet…
As if they know exactly what I need, I sense Amanda and Beth coming up beside me as I cross the last few feet.
Their support isn’t enough though to counter the sheer amount of grief that slams into me.
My father… My father is in a wooden box.
The man who chased the monsters out of my closet and kissed all my cuts and bruises better is in a box that will go into the ground.
At least six feet of dirt will now forever separate us.
I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye before he left that night.
I didn’t get to hug him one last time.
I didn’t get to imprint everything about him into my memory so I don’t forget it.
Oh god, I forgot so much about my mother. Things just slipped away from me…
And now I’ll forget him.
“I’m sorry,” I sob as the first tears break free from the prison I’ve kept them in. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what he was thinking, or why he did what he did, but I can’t help but feel like it was my fault.
If I hadn’t been so fucking stupid… If I hadn’t insisted on taking Beth to Johnathan’s bar, none of this would have happened.
My world would still be complete.
If we had stayed at my place, like everyone wanted, my friends and I wouldn’t have been taken. If we had stayed at my place that night, my father wouldn’t have been anywhere near the Russians.
He would still be alive today.
It’s my fault. All my fault.
And I can’t fix it.
There’s no fixing or undoing this.
* * *
The passing of time is meaningless as I stand beside my father’s casket, unable to bring myself to walk away from him.
My feet rooted to the spot partly out of sheer grief and partly out of penitence.
Thunder cracks and the sky opens up, unleashing the rain it’s been threatening us with all day.
And even after trying to say goodbye and mean it, I still I can’t bring myself to walk away as the first big, fat drops fall upon me.
Vaguely, I’m aware of Beth making a sound of distress and Johnathan arguing that’s it’s time to leave.
Amanda shivers beside me and tugs at my sleeve.
Lost in the pain, it all means nothing to me.
Eventually, their voices fade away, leaving me in peace. The rain begins to come down in sheets, but somehow none of it is touching me.
Trapped inside myself, the minutes slip away.
It’s not until lightning flashes nearby, showing me the reflection of a dark figure standing beside me off the gleam of my father’s casket, that I glance up.
My first thought when I take in the grim face of the man standing beside me, holding a black umbrella over my head, is that Death has decided to come for me, too.
Come to take me to my parents.
I’m almost happy for a second.
Then recognition hits and I feel something besides pain.
I feel panicked.
Where is Beth and Amanda?
Turning away from James, my eyes scan the cemetery, searching for them.
“They had to leave. It’s not good for Beth to be out in the rain, given her condition,” James says, answering my unspoken question.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I glance back at him, confirming he’s real, then I start to walk to where I think Johnathan parked.
James follows beside me, holding the umbrella over my head.
No matter how fast or slow I walk, he keeps pace.
When I finally crest the small hill leading to Saint Michael’s parking lot, I stop in surprise.
The parking lot is completely empty save for one car, a black BMW. Johnathan’s silver Lexus is nowhere to be seen.
He wasn’t lying. They left me… they really left me.
It takes a minute or two for the shock to wear off before I can bring myself to speak to James.
“Are they coming back?” I ask without turning to look at him.
I can’t bring myself to look at him again.
I can’t look at the man who rejected me when I was at my weakest.
It took some time, but I made peace with what happened between us that night. I still don’t understand why things played out like they did, but I made peace with it.
Things were said and done in the heat of the moment. Things I regret.
Now that I know who and what he is, I probably would have regretted it even more if he didn’t push me away like he did.
If anything, the entire situation makes me feel embarrassed.
I made a fool of myself by losing my head over a handsome man.
And being near him, even now, only reminds me of it.
“No,” James answers, and I turn to him in surprise.
Earlier, his expression was grim, but now there’s this strange intense look on his face.
He had the same look on his face before he kissed me that night…
As dead as I am inside, my heart still manages to skip a beat before I swallow and force myself to look away.
I sense James stepping closer to me as I try to figure out what the hell to do now.
My ride is gone, and I’m pretty sure I left my purse in Johnathan’s backseat.
I have no money and no phone on me.
All I have is this damp flag I’ve been clutching.
With no other choice, I start to walk toward the church. Maybe someone will take pity on me and let me use their phone.
“Sophia,” James says and grabs my elbow to stop me.
Just like his intense look, his touch penetrates through my numbed haze, affecting me in weird, unwanted ways.
And I know deep down I shouldn’t be feeling anything right now but pain.
Both alarmed and disturbed, I rip my elbow out of his grip and whip around to face him. “What do you want?”
What is he even doing here?
The last time I saw him at Johnathan and Beth’s house, he was a complete dick to me. In front of Johnathan, he acted like he didn’t even know me, and his demeanor was cold, bordering on nasty.
James stares at the hand that touched me for a moment before making a fist and dropping it at his side. I watch his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath like he’s trying to steady himself.
Then his dark eyes meet mine. “I want to give you a ride home.”
What he said is so absurd, so damn ludicrous, I almost laugh.
He wants to give me a ride home? Now? After all this time?
Once again, I find myself shaking my head in disbelief.
Is thi
s a dream?
Did I fall asleep?
Or is this a cruel joke?
“Thanks… but no thanks,” I manage to tell him with a straight face, swallowing back what I really want to say.
That ship has totally sailed.
It sailed so fast, so far, it crashed and burned months ago.
James frowns at my reaction, but that’s all I see before I turn my back on him again with every intention of walking away.
Unfortunately, he seems determined to bother me.
Grabbing my elbow, he pulls, forcing me to turn and step into his space.
“It wasn’t a request, Sophia,” he rasps down at me, that intense expression back on his sickeningly handsome face.
God, why does he have to be so damn handsome?
“I’m giving you a ride home to keep you safe.”
I find myself stiffening in fear, my entire body turning to stone.
What the hell is going on here? I wonder as I stare up at him, meeting his eyes.
Why does he look so angry?
And why is he insisting on giving me a ride?
I try to yank my arm back, but his hold tightens.
Jaw clenching, he steps closer to me. Looming over me and covering me in his shadow.
Making me feel small.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off, I’ll find my own way home, when it dawns on me.
This has nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the now.
Four days ago, my father was killed while he was off duty. He was shot in the middle of the highway after pulling over the Russian mobsters behind my kidnapping.
Every police officer I’ve spoken to since believes the Russians were behind it, that they did it to escape.
But his death is still under investigation, pending forensics.
And nothing is certain until the evidence proves it.
Thanks to a little eavesdropping, I know the Russians weren’t the only ones involved in what happened.
Up until yesterday, when Beth and Amanda came over to stay the night, I’ve had at least two officers staked at my house around the clock. During the few times I was lucid and not crying my eyes out, I’ve overhead a few hushed conversations.
Conversations full of anger over the Governor throwing his weight around and messing with the investigation.