The Dying Fate (The Umbra Chronicles Book 1)

by Willow Ravenheart

  Chapter Seven

  It's been almost four weeks since I went with Denny to the bar.

  He started working there the following week and I still haven't been able to summon the courage to go back. Of course, Denny was pissed with me for running out of the bar, but he couldn't be mad at me for long. He made me promise to never run off like that again, claiming that I scared the shit out of him and everyone at the bar.

  How could I tell my best friend who’s also a close friend of my deceased boyfriend, that I ran because I was ashamed of the attraction I felt towards his boss? I don't even know how to cope with it myself. I never said a word to the man, but I felt an instant pull to him. One that I've not felt since meeting Henry....

  "You're sure you don't want to come tonight?" Denny asks as he walks to the front door. I look away from the television, noticing the black shirt and jeans he's dressed in. Of course, he works tonight.

  "No, I'm just going to hang around the house today," I mumble before focusing my attention back onto the television screen playing some cheesy vampire television series.

  "You've been doing only that for the last month," he sighs before walking to me. He sits down at my side, his hand plucking mine from my lap.

  He tilts my chin up, his dark brown eyes attempting to stare into my soul. I drop my gaze, not wanting him to see the turmoil behind them. I just want to wallow in self-pity for a little bit longer before facing the real world. Hell, I need time before facing his boss again.

  "I don't feel like it tonight," I sigh, my teeth gnawing at my bottom lip. I've been doing it so much lately, that my lips are raw and broken.

  I honestly have plans for my day, but Denny doesn't need to know that. If he knew where I was planning to go...he would want to tag along. This is something I need to do on my own.

  "Well, if you need me, just call the bar. I've programmed the number into your phone, so there's no excuses. I have to get going now, so please eat something at least," he tells me before leaning forward to place a kiss atop my head.

  I watch him leave the house and listen to the sound of his car cranking and leaving the driveway. Once I know he's gone I climb from the couch and walk to the table beside the front door to grab my car keys. With shaky hands, I unlock my car. I don't want to do this, but it's something that needs to be done....

  My mind goes blank as I go through the motions, knowing the exact destination where I'm headed. I use a shaky hand to open the driver's side door once I've put the car in park and I climb out onto the loose gravel parking lot.

  My feet lead me through the wrought iron gate. I stare down at the headstones I pass, trying to hold in the tears of grief that begin to form in my eyes. This place shouldn't hold the most important person in my life. It's too dreary and depressing here. He should be resting somewhere along a lake, overlooking the water with a tree for shade. Anything is better than here, the place that is so…dreary.

  I glance back to the car, the only sanctuary from sorrow in this depressing place. My eyes fall to the slab of stone at my feet and I land on my knees beside it. Denny told me exactly how to find his grave once I was ready and I made sure to memorize his directions. The words engraved on the cold slab of marble will be ingrained to memory forever.

  Beloved Son and Brother

  Henry Jeremiah Ryan

  June 18th, 1991 – December 3rd, 2016

  ~Forever in Our Hearts~

  Tears begin to fall down my face as I wrap my arms around the stone. The sobs escaping my lips cause my body to heave uncontrollably. This can't be all that's left of him.

  "Henry...I'm so sorry!" I cry, my breaths coming out as shallow hiccups, "I didn't want this to happen! You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I don't know what I'm going to do without you. I wish it had been me. God, you don't know how many times that I’ve dreamed you were still here."

  I sit by the stone, my fingers tracing the shape of his name. It's unbelievable that this cheap chunk of stone and six-foot deep plot of land is the only place left of him.

  "I've counted the days since you left," I whisper, "It's been one-hundred and sixty-three days since the last time I saw your face. I can't remember the last time we were apart more than a day and now I've been without you for nearly half a year.

  "I'm sorry it took me so long to come see you, Henry. They wouldn't let me leave the hospital. After that, I was too much of a coward to come here. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't make it out of this whole. They amputated my arm. I almost died, but of course...you know this. I remember you coming to me...when I was in the coma. I'll always love you, Henry. It will never stop."

  I let my fingers run over the dates engraved in the stone and my heart seizes in my chest. Twenty-five years. That's all he was given. I know it was his time to go, but I can't stop the guilt that's eating me alive.

  "I'm going to go now, but I'll be back soon. Maybe I'll bring you some flowers next time," I whisper, so low that I can barely hear myself, "Goodbye, my love. I'll see you again."

  I swallow my tears as my hand hovers over the granite stone. I know he's here somewhere. Whether that's just the hope in my mind or the slowly decaying corpse of the person I love most in the ground at my feet, only God knows. All I know for sure is that I need to summon the courage to live my life again. Henry wouldn't want me to rot away. That's not the kind of man he was before he passed away....

  "Maybe I'll finally grab that burger I promised you that day," I whisper, leaning down to lay a kiss on his headstone, "Until next time...."

  Chapter Eight

  What are you doing?" Denny asks as he walks through my open bedroom door.

  I look up to him from the multiple piles of clothes littering the floor around me. It feels as though I'm surrounded by mountains of cotton and polyester. I've been going through Henry's things, trying to summon the courage to donate some of his possessions. There's little to no way for me to live my life if I'm constantly surrounded by his scent and the items that bring up even the smallest memories. Sure, I'll keep some of his things, but it's time to take a step in the right direction. Or that's what I keep telling myself. I don't even know the difference anymore.

  It's been almost two weeks since I visited his grave. Every single day since then has been a step toward a momentary reprieve into sanity. I know that if I haven't cleared some of his things by the time his birthday comes around, that I will be swallowed by the demons inside my mind. So, I guess you could say that's why I'm sitting in the middle of my bedroom with stacks of clothes surrounding me like the Himalayas.

  "I'm trying to figure out what to keep and what to give away," I sigh, tossing one of Henry's flannel shirts into a donation pile.

  "Would you like some help?" Denny asks, but I shake my head.

  "This is something I need to do on my own," I sigh, "But, I do appreciate the offer."

  "Well, if you need me. I'll be at the bar," he says before leaning down to give me a quick hug.

  A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of my lips when he plucks the flannel shirt from the pile and carries it out with him. He's never vocalized it, but I know he misses Henry as much as I do. They may not have had the connection that Henry and I did, but they had a brotherhood that nothing could come between. I know my friend is hurting, but I still don't have the courage to console him.

  "Have a nice day at work," I tell him as he walks from the room.

  After hours of pilfering through Henry's things, I've concluded that the man owned way more clothes than I could ever dream to own myself. The absence of his belongings is depressing when I notice the empty racks throughout the room. How is it that I never realized he took up more than two thirds of our large, walk-in closet?

  I finish packing his clothes from the closet, only deciding to keep a few of his larger t-shirts to sleep in and a bottle of his cologne. Once I'm done with the closet, I turn to his dresser which holds basically nothing but his underwear and socks. After dumping most of the drawers, I com
e across the boxers which he loved so much. I grab them and caress the thin silk, my fingers skimming over the bold, pink hearts printed along the black fabric.

  I can't believe he fell in love with these, but he did. He loved anything I decided to gift him with. Whether it was out of love or if he actually liked my gifts, I'll never know.

  I look down into the empty drawer, noticing a lone, black box sitting by itself along the left corner. My heart slams in my chest as I pick up the box and hold it gently between my fingers. The ring. Why did he hide it? It's not as if I hadn't seen it before.

  I open the box, expecting to see my simple silver ring with a solitaire diamond, the ring he used when asking me to marry him over six years ago. What's sitting in the box makes me stop breathing. This isn't the ring Henry saved all senior year for. God, it's so much more. I pull the ring from its velvet box and stare.

  The ring is rose gold with a princess cut diamond surrounded by several smaller diamonds atop it. Fitting into the band is a matching wedding band with a few small precious stones set into the outer edges. I look closer, the ring only inches from my face. My stomach churns when I see what's engraved on the inside of the band.

  I Would Wait Forever

  Tears spill down my face to splatter against the thin band of metal in my hand. All the pain I've been suppressing crawls to the surface, causing a tsunami of grief to hit me suddenly. My heart, or what's left of it, shatters all over again. What had I ever done for him? I made him wait so long and how did I repay him? He was patient, but it was all for nothing. I never deserved his love. He ruined his fucking life by loving me.

  I pull a hoodie over my head and slide on a pair of ripped leggings before storming out the front door. I can't stand the thought of being surrounded by his things anymore. I pull out my phone and send Denny a text message, telling him that I'm on my way to the bar before turning it off. I can't be around his things anymore. Tears sting my eyes as I stomp along the sidewalk. My hand is in my pocket, my fingers running over the diamonds in the engagement ring.

  How could I make him wait so long? All he wanted in life was to make me his wife. God, we had that stupid calendar that hung on the fridge every year. Each day was a countdown to the day he would be able to propose. I wouldn't have made him wait any longer. He would have been happy enough being drug to the courthouse for a wedding witnessed by only my parents and Denny. He never wanted the finer things in life. All he wanted was me....

  "Macy, what the fuck's going on?" Denny yells from the front door of the bar before launching down the steps to my side.

  I rush to him, crashing into his chest with a power that I didn't know I could possess. A small whimper pushes past my lips, but I can't speak. I can't tell him what's wrong. If I say it out loud, it means that Henry's really gone. God, I know he's dead, but this is the final nail in the coffin that contains the last thread of my sanity. All I can do is reach inside my pocket, pulling the ring out. What I hold in my hand before him is the reality of my own situation. My Henry will never be coming back, even after he waited for me. He waited for nothing...he will truly wait forever….

  "Oh God, Macy...." Denny wheezes when he sees what I have gripped between my fingers.

  What little grasp I had on my composure cripples and my knees give out from beneath me. Denny lifts me into his arms, my face buried into his chest. He whispers sweet words into my ear as he carries me through the doors of the bar. The smell of cigarettes hits me in the face and I bury my face further into his shirt.

  "What the hell happened to her?" I hear Hank curse from somewhere in the bar, but Denny rushes past him.

  He lays me down gently on a sofa somewhere in the back of the bar, only leaving me to close the door and lock it behind him. A moment later, he's back at my side, his hands caressing my cheeks. I look up into his face, noticing the tears that are flowing down his face, just as heavy as mine.

  "Macy, I'm so goddamn sorry!" he sobs, burying his face into my chest.

  His reaction shocks me and I lay there for a moment, the fingers of my left hand combing through his hair. I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke down on me, but I wasn't expecting it to be like this. The dam has finally broken in Denny and all I can do is hold him as he lets out all his grief.

  "Denny, it's not your fault," I whimper as I press a kiss into his hair.

  "It's all my fault though!" he cries, his face rising from my chest long enough for me to see the haunted look in his eyes, "All of this...Henry...your arm...it's all my fault. I was so fucking stupid. If it wasn't for me being a idiot.... Macy, I'm so fucking sorry."

  "Denny," I coo, brushing the tears from his mocha eyes, "what are you talking about?"

  "You don't know why I came home," he whispers, his voice cracking as he holds back a sob.

  "And it doesn't matter. You can't blame yourself for what happened, Denny. It was no one's fault," I tell him, my fingers combing his black curls away from his face, but he turns away from me.

  "But you don't know!" he wails, pulling himself from my side to walk the length of the room, "You have no clue."

  "Then tell me. Help me understand," I prod him, trying to figure out what has him so worked up.

  "You're going to fucking hate me," he whimpers, rushing to me, "Promise me that you won't turn your back on me after I tell you."

  "Of course, I promise. Denny, tell me what's going on," I tell him, my hand reaching out to catch his in my grasp. He collapses onto his knees before me, his head held down submissively before me.

  "Macy, the reason I begged for you to pick me up.... Ugh! Macy, I got caught up in a bad group. I knew something was off about them when we first met, but I just thought it was the change that came with coming to a new country. I was so fucking wrong. They were into some crazy shit and I was stuck in the middle of it...." he gushes, completely confusing me.

  "Denny...what happened?" I ask warily, not looking forward to the words that he's about to tell me.

  "They conned me into trying out some things.... I went with the flow to begin with, not wanting to be the odd one out. I got caught up into things. Drugs...sex...anything they wanted, I was more than willing to do any of it. I'm ashamed that I got caught up in shit like that. I was beginning to come to my senses, but shit turned sour quick. They...they drugged me.... When I woke up the next morning, they had stolen everything I had to my name. My phone, my passport, and everything else I had in that goddamn backpack. I tracked them down to get my shit back. There were too many of them...." he says, whimpering the last few words.

  A feeling of dread fills me and I clasp his face in my hand, my fingers smoothing over the tears that are flowing freely down his cheeks, "Denny, what did they do?"

  "They fucking raped me!" he screams, his voice cracking as he shudders beneath my touch, " I never thought it was going to end. I wished...I wished I was fucking dead. I've never experienced pain like that in my life. When they were done with me, they dropped me off in an alley with my belongings. But, not after beating me to a pulp. I called you right after. God, I was fucking hiding in the airport bathroom when I called you.... If I wasn't such a fucking idiot, none of this shit would have happened. To Henry, to you, to...me...." he sobs, burying his face in his hands.

  My heartbeat stills in my chest. Oh, my God, I imagined that something bad happened, but nothing like this! Hell, I thought he just had a fling that went sour. I wouldn't have ever thought something like this could happen to him. How could he get caught up in something so sinister? Drugs? Denny's never done drugs. I mean, sure we smoked pot a few times when we were teenagers, but nothing like what he just admitted to. I don't know what to say. Nothing that comes out of my mouth will make him feel any better.

  "Macy, I'm so sorry...." he sobs, his head dropping into my lap, "I was weak. I caused all of this and I know that no matter what I do...it will never be enough. If I could rip my heart out of my chest and lay it at your feet...that still wouldn't be enough. I've wanted to tell you for
so long.... God, I can't even begin to make up for all of this."

  I summon the courage to tuck my hand beneath his face and make him look me in the eyes. The haunted and ashamed look in his usually playful gaze shakes me to my core. Does he really believe that I would hate him?

  "Denny, I have one question," I tell him, trying to not cry from the forlorn look on his face.

  "Ask me anything," he mutters, his voice thick with regret.

  "Where were you when I was in the hospital?" I ask, laying down the question that's been floating in my mind since the first day he came to visit me in the hospital.

  "I was in the hospital myself...."

  "Why?" I ask, nudging his face to make him look me in the eyes, "Why were you in the hospital?"

  "I tried to kill myself...." he whispers.

  I can't contain myself and my hand flies back to slap him across the face. My blood boils as I stare down into his heartbroken face. How could he even think of doing such a thing? Why would he leave me too?

  "Why would you do something that fucking stupid? What did you do to yourself?" I hiss at him, my eyes closed into thin slits, "Why would you leave me? Did you know that I was going to be okay? Did you even care?"

  "I swallowed a bottle of painkillers after coming to see you. Finding out Henry had died and that you were in a coma…it broke me. When I came to see you I lost my mind when I saw what you looked like. You were a fucking broken shell.... Your mom was so broken...she told me what the doctors explained to her. Macy...you weren't supposed to survive.... You died twice on the table when they were trying to fix your arm. You lost so much blood.... I couldn't imagine existing in a world where I caused the death of the only two people in the world that gave a fuck whether I lived or died. I had nothing to live for. The pain of what happened to me...the guilt...I couldn't cope." he whispers, his fingers clenched into tight fists, "I thought it was only fair that I die."