Two-1
2106 Words
Turning slowly, afraid my mind is playing tricks on me, I prepare to be greeted by a ghost of the past. But when I lock in on those expressive green eyes, I realize she’s here. She’s really here.
I need a minute to take her in because she’s changed, although, in some ways, she looks exactly the same.
Her long hair is now a light brown with blonde through it. I remember when we met, it was a brighter blonde. I wonder if she dyed it to help disguise who she really was. She wears fitted blue jeans and a short knitted jumper. She has some makeup on, and I focus on her glossy pink lips.
How I want to taste them.
“I wanted”—she clears her throat—“I wanted to come pick you up.”
My body instantly responds to her voice, and I wonder how I lived without it for ten years. I realize I was only half living.
“But I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
Her chest shudders as she exhales. She’s nervous.
“You look—” She scrunches up her nose when she takes in my black and blue state. “Just how I remember you. But older.”
I want to speak, but I’m addicted to hearing her voice, so I remain quiet.
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess that’s what happens when ten years pass. We get old.”
I can’t take my eyes off her, and when her cheeks turn scarlet, I know she still feels this pull between us. It never left. It was merely in a ten-year slumber. But the beast has awoken, and it needs to be fed.
“Are you going to say anything?” she asks, biting her bottom lip. “Do you want me to go? You’re not happy to see me?”
She’s clutching at straws as I haven’t said a word. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to tell her I love her because I’ve never told anyone that I’ve loved them before.
“This was a mistake.”
She spins on her heel, intent on running out the door, but I lunge forward and seize her arm, stopping her. The sparks between us almost set me alight. Touching her winds me, as I’m reminded of the times when I devoured every inch of her skin.
But when a breathy whimper leaves her parted lips, I realize she’s not privy to the secret that we’re not blood. So I let her go because I don’t want her feeling ashamed for the attraction which still lingers between us.
“I am happy to see ye.” I finally speak, watching the way her body softens to my words. “I’m sorry. It’s just…a lot.”
She nods, lowering her eyes. “I know what you mean. I don’t know where to start.”
“Aye. It’s f*****g weird,” I say, wishing I could be a little more articulate. “Ya look…good.”
I wanted to say beautiful, but it’s hardly appropriate.
“How are you? I mean…” She quickly covers her face with her palms, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I mean. Why is this so difficult?”
I understand how she’s feeling. I want to say so many things, but words escape me.
Stepping forward, I gently remove her hands so I can see her face. She allows me to touch her openly. I don’t let go of her hands. I can feel her pulse racing wildly on her wrist.
“It’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”
“You are?” she asks with a small smile. “You don’t look nervous.”
“How do I look then?”
She exhales deeply, her eyes filled with tears. “You look like you,” she confesses softly. “Why didn’t you want to see me? I wrote you hundreds of letters. I came to see you. But you just…forgot about me? Is that it? You couldn’t forgive me? What you said to me…you meant it?”
Her insecurity hurts me because she’s got it all wrong. I was forced to stay away from all of them to protect them. But it seems even though their safety was ensured, the pain I caused mentally has been far worse than I ever imagined.
Brushing over her knuckles, I reply, “I didn’t want to see ye in there. Not caged up like some animal. And I never forgot ya.”
A tear trickles down her cheek. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought I was doing the right t-thing.”
“Shh, it’s all right. We all made mistakes. How’s yer ma? Yer wee sister?”
She sniffs back her tears. “My mom is good. She’s been in remission for almost eight years. My sister isn’t so little anymore,” she says with a smile.
“Ach, I’m happy yer ma is all right.”
“She’s okay because of you, because of what you did. You went to prison for me. For all of us,” she says, squeezing my hands.
“I’m doin’ this so we’re even. But I don’t want to see ye again. No matter what ye did, ya lied to me, and now I have the deaths of my family on my hands. I cannot forgive ya. And ye shouldn’t forgive me.”
Those are the last words I spoke to her, yet she still sees me as the hero in this story.
“I’ve missed you…so much,” she declares in a whisper, ashamed. “A piece of me died when you left. I’ve been searching for it since you were gone—”
“I need to tell ya somethin’,” I interrupt, unable to stomach her pain a second longer. But what she says next changes everything forever.
“I met someone,” she blurts out, lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just…we can’t be together. And…fuck. He’s a good man. I’m sorry, Punky. He makes me ha-happy.”
She throws herself into my arms, sobbing into my chest guiltily.
Her words play over and over in my mind as I try to digest what she shared.
“He’s a good man.”
Closing my eyes, I curse every f*****g breath I take because I may as well be dead.
Holding her, I inhale her scent and commit it to memory because all I’ve ever wanted was her happiness. If this man can offer that to her, then I have to let her go.
“Don’t be sorry. Ya did what I wanted—ye lived. That’s all I ever wanted for ye. For ye to be happy.”
She cries, never letting me go as I console her, ignoring this pain in my chest. If I tell her what I know, what does that achieve? Babydoll is happy. I can never give her that when I don’t know what true happiness is.
All I can offer her is pain. All I represent is our past mistakes—a past paved with bloodshed and lies. She will think about that every time she looks at me.
I love her more than life itself, which is why I have to set her free. I will carry this secret to my grave and never burden her with a choice because if she believes we’re blood—they’ll be no choice to make. She’ll live a happy and safe life without me.
Connor’s dying words come back to haunt me.
“Yer a leader. Lead with the compassion yer ma gave ya. And rule with the cruelty I taught ya because it’s the only way to survive in our world.”
Love makes you weak. It allows you to be human. Babydoll is collateral, and I refuse to allow my selfish needs to put her in harm’s way ever again.
“I wish…”
“Come now, we can’t change what’s done,” I say, not wanting to hear what I desperately want in fear I’ll crack and tell her the truth. I won’t be that selfish.
This is Babydoll’s chance to live a life away from me and away from the shame she feels for what we did.
“I know,” she whispers, still holding me. “It’s good to have you home.”
“Home?” I question. “Ye live here now?”
She gently pulls away, brushing her hair from her cheeks. “No, but my…fiancé does.”
Fiancé?
I just accepted her seeing someone, but engaged to be married…fuck.
However, I smile even though I’m secretly dying inside. “He’s a lucky lad. I’m happy for youse.”
She nods but doesn’t seem to buy it either.
An uncomfortable silence wedges its way between us, and I suddenly can’t breathe. The thought of another man touching her…I want to break every bone in his f*****g body.
Babydoll tilts her head as if attempting to decode my silence. I know for this to be convincing, I need to push her away. I can’t have her near me. She represents everything I want but can’t have.
“Thanks for stoppin’ by. But I need to organize a few things,” I say, giving her a not-so-subtle hint that our reunion is over.
She nods, quickly wiping away her tears. “Of course. I’m sorry. Once you get settled, maybe we can catch up?”
“Catch up on what?” I question, folding my arms across my chest.
A range of emotions are coursing through me right now, and at the forefront is the need to destroy everything within reach.
She blinks, appearing stunned by my bluntness.
“We just did that, did we not?”
“I…sure, whatever you w-want,” she replies, fumbling over her words. “It was good seeing you.”
“Aye. Say hi to yer boy for me.”
She narrows her eyes, sensing my sarcasm. We’re suddenly transported back ten years where Babydoll and I could go from love to hate in the same breath. Some things don’t change, and some do—like Babydoll being engaged.
She nods and appears to want to say something but decides against it at the last minute. “Goodbye, Punky.”
“Bye, Babydoll.”
A gasp leaves her when I use that name, but she’ll always be Babydoll to me. She quickly exits while I force myself not to follow. That won’t achieve a thing.
I don’t know how long I stand staring at the open doorway, processing what she just shared. Time doesn’t seem to make a difference because my feelings for her haven’t changed. I still want her with my last breath.
But she’s moved on, and I need to accept that. Telling her the truth will amount to nothing. This is for the best.
So why do I feel like killing someone, preferably Babydoll’s fiancé?
Unable to deal with this right now, I decide to clean the place up a bit as I need to keep busy. It’s going to take months to get everything back to how it once was, but with nothing but time on my hands, I may as well start now.
Lost in my head, a dangerous place to be, I don’t realize I’ve got company. Thankfully, it’s only Cian, but I need to focus because I can’t make that mistake again.
“Need help?” he says, holding up a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a broom in the other.
“Thanks.”
But he instantly senses my bad mood.
“What’s happened?”
“Nothin’,” I reply, snatching the bottle from his grip. When I unscrew the lid and throw back a large mouthful, Cian arches a brow.
“Don’t give me that shite.”
“Ack, leave it alone, will ye,” I snap, turning my back on him.
But Cian won’t. “Stop this! I understand yer needin’ time, but don’t shut me out. Do ye know what we all went through? We were locked up with ya!”
“I doubt that.” I snicker, spinning around to face him. “I was the one behind bars. Don’t compare us because there is no f*****g comparison!”
“We all tried everythin’ to help ya, but ya didn’t want us to. I felt fuckin’ helpless!” he argues, unable to stop his emotions. “Do ya know how that made me feel? I’ve been livin’ with this guilt for ten fuckin’ years! I would have traded my freedom for yours. In a heartbeat. But ye just left us…ya fuckin’ broke me.”
“I had no choice,” I say between clenched teeth.
“Bullshit! Ya could have seen me or written me back. But ya chose not to!”
“I never chose anythin’!” I scream, arms out wide. “Brody Doyle made me promise not to make contact with all youse! If I did, he’d kill the lot of ya, includin’ the twins. I needed to be gone, forgotten, to keep ya safe! Ya think I wanted to be alone, rotting in that cell? I would have given anythin’ to see ya. See all of youse!
“But I couldn’t. I was tryin’ to keep youse safe. I was tryin’ to do the right thing for once! Besides, with me gone, youse had a chance to live a better life. A life ye chose, not forced onto ya!”
Cian stands before me, his mouth agape. I never wanted to tell him this, but I can’t go on with him thinking I did this because I wanted to.
“He wanted Belfast as his own, and he couldn’t do that with me in the background. I had to be forgotten.”
“How could we forget someone like you, Punky?” Cian says, shaking his head. “I fuckin’ love ya. Yer my brother. I needed ya.”
- Writer
