The Ending I Want

by Samantha Towle

  “It was an accident, babe. A tragic accident. Please…don’t do this. Fight to live. If not for yourself, then do it for me. I know you care about me—hold on to that, fight for that. Please. I’m begging you.”

  My heart is beating hard against my chest, fear shaking my body, my mind praying that my words will finally reach her.

  She looks at me with a flicker of warmth in her beautiful eyes, and I’m reminded of all the times I’ve stared into her eyes and seen that warmth and the hope and happiness that it made me feel.

  And that tiny bit of hope I have left clings to that warmth in her eyes and silently begs her to live.

  She exhales slowly. “You’re right. I do care about you, Liam…so much.” Her breath catches, and a tear slides down her cheek. She catches it and brushes it away.

  “Taylor…”

  She brings her eyes to me, and she doesn’t need to say anything. I know from the look in them that I’ve lost her.

  She’s gone.

  That tiny piece of hope I had left is crushed, right along with my heart, and I don’t stop the tears that fill my eyes. I let them be. And I let them fall.

  She turns her face away from me and stares out the window. “I’m sorry, Liam. It’s too late. I want this. I want to die. I want to be with my family. It’s the ending I want.”

  “It’s the ending I want.”

  I couldn’t stay at the hospital. Not after hearing her say those words.

  Those five words…so final. I knew there was nothing I could say or do to change her mind.

  I felt helpless. I still do.

  For the first time in my life, I know there is nothing I can do.

  There is no arguing. No fighting. No reasoning.

  I can’t change this.

  Even though everything inside me is screaming for me to fight, I know it’d be pointless.

  You can’t change a person’s mind if it’s truly what they want.

  And Taylor wants to die.

  This vibrant, beautiful woman wants to die.

  I feel like I don’t know her. Maybe I never did.

  And I don’t know how to deal with that…with any of it. So, I left her there, in that hospital bed, and I walked away.

  Now, I just feel lost.

  And, when I feel lost, I go to the only place that’s ever felt like home.

  Well, apart from Taylor.

  She felt like home.

  From the moment I met her, I knew that she was different. That my life was about to change. I just didn’t realize how it would change.

  Two weeks, and she’s stolen my heart completely.

  Every time I touch Taylor, I feel grounded…that safety that only home can give you.

  But that’s gone now, and there’s only one place I can go to get some sense of assurance that everything is going to be okay even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it won’t ever be okay again.

  Nothing will ever be okay if Taylor isn’t here, lighting up the earth.

  By the time Cam and Eddie drove me to my apartment, the sun was starting to rise. We’d been at the hospital all night. They had wanted to stay with me, but I told them that I wanted to be alone.

  And, at that moment, I did. I wanted to be alone with my pain. I wanted to be alone to think. To try to make sense of all this.

  But, when I walked inside my apartment, she was everywhere. On every surface. Every smell and sound…her.

  I could hear the echo of her voice and laughter. The feel of her body pressed against mine. Her scent…her everything.

  In such a small space of time, she had consumed my mind and body. She had become what life should be about.

  And I lost it.

  Desolation hit me, and I had never felt more alone than I did in that moment.

  Still do now.

  So, without even showering or changing, I left my apartment.

  I walked the streets of London for hours, watching people heading to work, shops opening up. All I could think of was the bus tour of London that we did.

  I walked into Hyde Park, the fair long gone. The memory of being there with her is forever embedded in my mind.

  I left the park, and all that was in my head was, She’s here, lying in a hospital bed in my city.

  I had left my apartment to get away from the loneliness, from her, and she was everywhere.

  So, I went back to my apartment and got my car keys. I climbed in my car and started driving to the only place that’d ever filled that emptiness inside me. To the one person who had never let me down.

  When I pull up outside Hunter Hall, I expect to feel a little better, but I don’t.

  Because all I remember is being here with her.

  I was stupid to think I could escape by coming here.

  My grandpa is already out the front door and walking over to me, like he knew I was coming.

  He probably did. There are security cameras everywhere.

  I turn the engine off. Taking a deep breath, I get out of my car.

  I don’t move. I can’t move. So, I just stand there.

  “Liam?”

  I hear the concern in his voice as he approaches me because I never just turn up like this. I always call to tell him I’m coming. And I must look a fucking mess. I haven’t shaved, and my clothes are wrinkled.

  “Liam, what’s wrong?” His voice takes a stern edge.

  I know it’s because he’s worried, but I don’t know how to say this.

  He stops before me. “Talk to me.”

  I can feel those fucking tears fighting to get out again. I take in a deep gulp of air. It even hurts to breathe. I lift my eyes to look at him. “I don’t know what to do, Grandpa. I need your help…because I don’t know what to do.”

  Concern flickers over his face. And then he does what he always does. He wraps his arms around me. “I’m here,” he says. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

  I try to feel comfort in his hold. I try to soak up his reassurance, but it doesn’t work. Because I know it’s not true. No one can fix this.

  Only Taylor.

  And she doesn’t want to be fixed.

  “Let’s get you inside.” His arm is around me, guiding me into the house. “Archie, can you make coffee?” Grandpa calls to him. “Or do you want something stronger?” he asks me.

  Only my grandpa would suggest alcohol at ten thirty in the morning.

  That actually manages to lift the corners of my lips.

  “Coffee’s fine,” I tell him.

  “We’ll be in the sitting room,” he hollers to Archie.

  “I’ll bring it through,” Archie calls back from somewhere in the house.

  Grandpa steers me into the sitting room and down into an armchair, and I let him because I don’t have the strength right now to do anything myself. It took everything I had to drive here.

  He takes the armchair opposite me. “Tell me what happened.”

  My grandpa doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s always been a straight-to-the-point man—just like I am.

  So, I tell him everything, only pausing when Archie brings in the coffee. I tell Grandpa about Taylor—her list…what happened to her family. I tell him about me asking Taylor to stay in London with me. About her collapsing in Cam’s bar, going to the hospital…the tumor…and lastly, the conversation I had with her before I left.

  I tell him that she wants to die.

  He lets out a long breath. “Liam, if Taylor wanted to die…really and truly die, she would have done it long ago.”

  “What?” I stare at him.

  “Look, this is going to sound harsh, but if a person really wants to kill themselves, they’ll do it and make sure it sticks. People throw themselves off of bridges and under trains and swallow a handful of pills to ensure they don’t have to live.”

  “She is killing herself.” I grit my teeth.

  “She’s letting herself suffer because she thinks she deserves it. There is a difference. Taylor might truly believe that she
wants to die. But, deep down, if you dig in far enough, there is a part of her that wants to live. The part of her that put her on that plane and brought her here to fulfill that list. The part of her that allowed herself to be with you, to care about you.

  “Right now, Taylor is eaten up by guilt, and she’s punishing herself in the only way she knows how. She can’t make the decision for herself whether she should live or die, so she’s letting the tumor do it for her. If you want to reach her, Liam, then you have to reach that part of her that does want to live, remind her of what it’s like to truly be alive, what it’s like to be happy again.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing this last week and a half with her—showing her happiness and helping her to face her fears and showing her what it’s like to truly live.”

  “Then, maybe she’s not as far gone as you think she is.”

  I shake my head. “I saw her in that hospital room, Grandpa. I heard the words she was saying. She’s already gone. I’ve lost her.”

  “She’s fighting an internal battle. I saw the way she looked at you, Liam. She lit up around you—and you, her. I haven’t ever seen you look at someone the way you look at her.”

  It’s because I’ve never loved anyone in the way I do Taylor. It’s that comes-out-of-nowhere-and-grabs-ahold-of-you love. The kind where you can’t remember how you ever felt anything before her. The all-consuming, nothing-else-matters-but-her love.

  That’s the love I feel for Taylor.

  “I know Taylor has deep feelings for you, and those feelings are provoking the guilt she feels over her family because of what she believes she owes them—her life. But a part of her wants you, too. But, to have you, she has to live. And, if she lives, in her mind, she’ll be failing them again.”

  I ache at the thought of the pain and turmoil she must be feeling. The pain she’s been feeling for so long.

  “You need to make her see that’s not the case,” Grandpa continues. “That she doesn’t have to die. That she doesn’t have to pay for something that wasn’t her fault. That she can have a life with you. She deserves to be happy. And then, one day, after she’s lived a long life, then she can see her family again.”

  “I tried, Grandpa. I told her these things, maybe not as eloquently as you just put it, but she wouldn’t hear them.”

  “Then, you make her hear. You keep trying. You don’t just give up at the first hurdle, Liam. You’re a fighter. You always have been. No matter what life has thrown at you, how many times it’s knocked you down, you’ve always gotten back up, ready to fight. Don’t stop now. Fight for Taylor, and fight hard.”

  My phone starts to ring in my pocket. The first thing I think of is Taylor.

  Is it her calling?

  I quickly get it out. My heart sags when I see it’s not her number calling. I don’t recognize the number ringing me. But I answer because I gave the hospital my number and told them to call me if there were any changes with Taylor.

  “Hello?”

  “Liam, it’s Dr. March.”

  I stand up out of my seat, my heart stopping. “What’s happened? Is she okay?”

  “We, um…I’m afraid I’m not sure.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Taylor’s gone.”

  “She’s gone?” I gasp.

  My grandpa gets to his feet.

  “That’s why I’m calling—to tell you that she left the hospital without anyone’s knowledge. A short time ago, the nurse went into her room to take her vitals, and her bed was empty. Her clothes and shoes that she had arrived in are gone from the cupboard. We’ve searched the floor to make sure she hasn’t…fallen anywhere and hurt herself, but there are no signs of her. So, I got security to check the cameras, and she was seen leaving through the main entrance over a few hours ago.”

  She’s been gone a few hours.

  My heart starts to beat faster.

  “I was hoping that she had come to you?” Dr. March says.

  No, she wouldn’t come to me because I’m not who she wants.

  I close my eyes, my insides crushing. “No, she hasn’t come to me.”

  “Do you know where she could have gone?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure. Maybe her hotel.”

  Then, it hits me. She’s going home.

  The last thing Taylor said to me was that she wanted to be with her family.

  She was always going to go home. That was her plan all along.

  She’s going home to die.

  Fuck…no.

  “Of course, with her condition, I’m worried for her,” Dr. March goes on. “But my hands are tied. There isn’t a lot I can do, as she isn’t deemed a danger to herself—”

  “I know where to find her,” I cut her off.

  She exhales. “Good. When you do find Taylor, please try to get her to see reason and come back to the hospital.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.” And I will.

  I hang up the phone, and immediately, I dial Taylor’s number.

  Voicemail.

  Fuck!

  Frustrated, I hang up.

  “Taylor left the hospital?”

  I’m guessing Grandpa caught wind of the conversation I just had. After all of his attempts to convince me that this isn’t truly what she wants, even he now looks worried.

  And it makes me feel sick.

  “She walked out a short time ago.”

  I’m moving to the door and out of the room. He’s following me.

  “You know where she is?”

  “I know where she’s heading.” I yank open the front door and step through it. I turn back to him. “She’s going home. And I’m going to stop her before she does.”

  I’ve pulled out of my grandpa’s driveway, and I’m speeding down the road when my phone rings again.

  The number shows up on my dash; it’s one of my hotels in London. The one Taylor’s staying at. They were under instructions to call me if she checked out of the hotel.

  I connect the call through the Bluetooth.

  “Speak now, and make it quick.”

  There’s a slight pause, and then a male voice says, “Um, sir, it’s Patrick Squires calling. I’m the day manager at—”

  “I know where you’re calling from. What I want is for you to tell me if you’re calling about Taylor Shaw.”

  I take a hard turn and then slam my foot back down on the gas.

  “Yes, sir, I am. I saw there was an instruction to call you if she checked out—”

  “She’s checked out?”

  A brief pause, and then he says, “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “An hour ago! And you’re only calling me now!” My hands white-knuckle the steering wheel.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Perrie, the girl who checked her out, is new with us. She must not have seen the notice that was on Miss Shaw’s file. I only noticed that she’d gone because I was working through today’s departures. I asked Perrie if she had called you—”

  “She’s fired.”

  “Yes, sir,” he says quietly.

  I blow out a breath.

  An hour ago. She left a fucking hour ago. It takes about that time to get from the hotel to Heathrow, depending on traffic. She could already be at the airport. And I don’t know our fucking flight itineraries to Boston.

  Fuck!

  I take the exit onto the M40, heading for London. Getting on the motorway, I press my foot down hard, pushing the car as fast as she’ll go.

  “Sir?” Patrick’s voice comes in the car.

  I forgot for a moment that I was still on the phone.

  “Did Taylor get a cab when she left the hotel?” I ask him, my voice hard.

  “Yes, sir. I asked Martin, our porter, before I called you. He said he put her in a cab, but he doesn’t know where she was heading. Sir, I am sor—”

  I cut the call off. I swear to God, if I hear one more person say they’re sorry today, I’
ll fucking kill them with my bare hands.

  Except Taylor.

  Taylor can say whatever the hell she wants to me. She can say sorry as many times as she wants, so long as there is something at the end of it…a chance. A chance that she will change her mind.

  I search through my contacts, looking for the number for our ticket desk in terminal five at Heathrow Airport. Driving and looking through my phone while I hit close to a hundred miles an hour in the outside lane probably isn’t the best idea.

  I find the number and hit Call, focusing completely on the road and getting to Taylor.

  The phone rings, echoing around my car, and then the call connects. “Hunter Airways Ticket Desk, Amber speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Amber, it’s Liam Hunter calling.”

  Silence.

  Then, she says, “Liam…Hunter, as in—”

  “The guy who pays your salary.”

  “Oh. Wow. Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

  “I need you to tell me when the next flight to Boston is?” I check the time on the dash—twenty-eight minutes past one.

  “Let me just check.”

  I hear tapping on keys.

  “Okay, the next flight with us out to Boston is…at five p.m. Check-in opens in half an hour.”

  I know Taylor’s return flight is tomorrow, but she could have changed that.

  “Okay, Amber, I need you to tell me if a Taylor Shaw has tried to change her ticket from tomorrow’s flight to today. Or if she’s even bought a new ticket. Basically, I just need to know if she’s trying to get on that five o’clock flight.”

  There’s a slight pause. “Sir, I can’t give out flight information on passengers. Our policy states—”

  “I know what the policy states. I fucking wrote the thing. Now, tell me if Taylor is trying to fly out of Heathrow today.”

  “Sir…it’s just…I know you say you’re you, but how can I be sure it is actually you? You could be anyone.”

  I let out a growl of frustration. “What’s your surname?”

  Another pause. “Crawford.”

  “Okay, Amber Crawford, when you’re getting your final pay slip and being escorted from the premises in about, oh, say, ten minutes, then you’ll fucking know it was me. Now, either tell me if she’s tried to change her flight, or I can fire you, and then you can put me on the phone with somebody who will do the job I’m fucking paying them to do!”