The Turning Point

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN - WOUNDED BIRD

William

I was motionless in the hospital bed, staring at the white, empty ceiling, as if my soul had been sucked into that cold light. The distant noise of footsteps, voices, beeping machines... nothing made sense. Everything seemed far away, disconnected from me.
I drank too much.
The world was spinning, the car was skidding, the glass was exploding. And now I was here. But, somehow, I didn't feel anything. Just a suffocating weight in my chest, an absence that went beyond physical pain.
I closed my eyes and, somewhere between delirium and exhaustion, I saw myself on the farm's porch. The smell of damp earth enveloped me, and the sky was heavy, dense, announcing a storm. I was sitting in the usual armchair, but there was something different. It was as if time had stopped.
Then, they appeared.
Thom and Martin came on their white horses, imposing against the horizon. Thom pulled the reins of Sailor, with the tranquility of someone who already knew everything, and Martin... Martin was as before, before that accident, before the illness.
Thom stopped in front of me and leaned over the horse, observing me with those eyes full of wisdom.
"What are you doing here alone, Will?" he asked.
I ran my hand over my face and let out a long sigh.
"Waiting for Lisy to come back," I murmured, feeling a lump form in my throat. "But, it seems, she's not coming back."
Martin dismounted and walked to me, firm, secure, with the health he lost so early.
He sat next to me and looked at the sky.
"A storm is coming," he said.
At the same moment, I noticed the birds cutting through the sky, flying hurriedly, looking for shelter. One of them landed between us, trembling slightly. Martin gently ran his finger over its head.
"Birds are curious creatures," he continued. "When the storm approaches, they don't stand still waiting. They take flight and look for shelter. Some are so tired that they can die on the way. Often the storm is so strong that it drags them away, giving them no chance to survive. And... if they are too injured to fly, they die."
He raised his finger, and the bird perched there seemed to listen to him. Martin whispered something, and I frowned.
"What did you say?" I asked.
He turned his face to me and smiled.
"I called him by his name."
"And what's his name?" I asked.
Martin stood up, and the bird followed his movement, still perched on his hand. Then, he looked directly at me and said, with a voice full of meaning:
"Will. His name is Will. Now fly. Look for shelter. Don't stay parked here, where there's nothing left. Move on and find your home."
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. It seemed like there was something in my throat, choking my words.
Martin opened his arms to me, and I stood up, feeling an unknown urgency inside my chest. I hugged him tightly, feeling his warmth, his real presence, as if it were really him, as if he were really there.
"Send our greetings to Mom and Megan," he whispered. "And tell Heloyse that Dad talks about her a lot."
My eyes were burning, but I couldn't speak. I just held on to that moment as if my life depended on it.
When we let go, Martin got on his horse. Thom, who was looking at the sky as if he saw beyond what any of us could see, turned his gaze to me and said:
"Storms will always happen. But a firm and strong shelter will never be destroyed."
They left. In a quick gallop, they crossed the pasture until they disappeared into the vastness.
I looked at the sky that stretched above me like a vast, raging ocean, painted in deep gray tones. The clouds piled up, dense and heavy, laden with storm, as if the sky itself was about to collapse on the earth. The air was thick, humid, carrying with it the electricity of a thunder that had not yet roared.
But, in the distance, far on the horizon, a gap opened between the dark clouds. A glimpse of golden light escaped through the shadows, spilling onto the earth like a river of timid hope. The rays of the hidden sun pierced the fog, bathing the fields with a soft and ephemeral glow, as if the sky itself wanted to remind the world that, even in the worst storms, there was still light.
I woke up suddenly, feeling my chest rise and fall quickly. The hospital room was suffocating. There was a smell of disinfectant and an artificial light that had nothing welcoming about it.
"It was real," I murmured to myself, still feeling the weight of Martin's hug.
The door opened.
Johnson came in.
Our eyes met for a moment. He looked exhausted, but not as much as I did. I allowed myself to look at him for a few seconds before looking away at some point on the wall.
I was too tired to fight.
Johnson took a deep breath before speaking:
"I came to ask for forgiveness."
Silence.
"I know it might not mean anything, but... I understand if you can't forgive me."
I remained motionless, listening, but not really listening.
"I'm sorry for everything I've done, for everything I've said about your childhood. You didn't deserve that."
The sound of his voice reached my ears, but it seemed to come from far away.
"I'm sorry about Lisy. I was an idiot. I know she loved you."
My fingers involuntarily tightened on the sheet. My chest burned, but I didn't react. I didn't want to react. Johnson hesitated, his voice faltering before continuing.
"I'm sorry for the interrupted pregnancy..."
He took a deep breath, as if the words were burning his throat.
"There's not a day that I don't blame myself."
He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes lowered, as if trying to find courage to continue.
"I hate myself for that, Will. I hate myself more than you can imagine. I feel like trash. And maybe that's what I am."
I closed my eyes for a moment, but not to calm myself down. Just because I didn't want to see him there.
Because, deep down, it didn't make any difference anymore.
If I could, I would fly...
Fly away from that hospital, from that pain that has dragged with me since I can remember. I wanted to find Heloyse and take shelter in her, while the world outside collapsed in water.
But Heloyse wasn't here.
She wouldn't come back.
And without her, there was no shelter.
"I know that nothing I say will change things," Johnson continued, his voice choked. "I know there's no fixing this. But I needed to come here and say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, for what I did to her."
He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head, looking like a man on the edge of a cliff.
"I've spent my whole life competing with you. And for what? What did I gain? Just regrets."
I remained silent. Not because I had nothing to say, but because it wasn't worth it.
Because words didn't bring Heloyse back.
They wouldn't give a future to that little life that was gone.
They didn't bring anything back.
Johnson sighed and took a step back.
"I'm leaving."
He hesitated, waiting for an answer that would never come.
"But everything I said was sincere. I'm sorry for all the damage I caused."
Finally, I looked at him. There was no anger there. There was no forgiveness.
Just emptiness.
Then I looked back at the wall.
Because, in the end, nothing else mattered.
The only thing that made me feel alive... was already gone.