Cherries

Chapter 5

Summer

18 months ago...

I nestled closer into his neck, breathing in his soothing scent, my fingers tracing slow circles around his bare chest. His arm is draped behind me, his hand splayed wide on my hip as he pulls me impossibly closer to his side. He kisses my forehead and squeezes me firmly, his hand drifting down to my arse, resting comfortably, as a satisfying hum rumbles from his chest. I don't even need to look at him to know he's smiling... I can feel it, feel him, feel everything.

"Hey baby?"

"Mmmm," he hums in response.

"What do you think about a red velvet cake for the wedding?"

"Whatever you want darlin' is fine with me... as long as..." he doesn't finish his train of thought but grabs my arse a little tighter.

"As long as what...?" My nails drift over his chest and I lift my head to look into his eyes.

"As long as I get to taste it first." He gently flips me over on my back as his body now presses down on mine. He grins wickedly at my surprised face and wastes no time in grinding his hips, making me gasp quietly at the feeling of his cock pressing into me.

He leans in closer and kisses my neck with a wet smacking sound. "I wanna taste it here." He shimmies down further to my nipple, taking it into his hot mouth. "And here." My breathing picks up as he gently sucks and licks his way further down my body, exploring every crevice and curve with his expert tongue. "And I definitely want to taste it here..."

Crash!

We both bolt upright at the frighteningly loud noise from somewhere outside our bedroom. I strain to listen over our escalated breaths as anxiety and adrenaline kick in with equal intensity. I hear footsteps and quiet whispering, the shuffling of papers and the sound of drawers opening and closing. Someone's in our home.

Finn grabs my shoulders and signals with his finger pressed to my lips to stay quiet. We both move quickly out of bed and throw on whatever clothes are nearby. He pulls me into our large walk-in robe and grabs my face with both his hands, his eyes piercing mine with worry.

"I need you to stay here, baby. No matter what. No matter what you hear. Please, baby. I need to hear you say it so I know you understand me." He whispers to me and searches my face, like he's committing it to memory.

My body starts to shake as the realisation of the situation hits me again. Someone's in our home.

"Okay," I reply in a shaky breath. He looks at me and smiles, kissing me quickly on my lips, before pulling away all too fast. He moves to the back of the robe and his hands grab the baseball bat stored there long ago.

"Call the police baby, but stay quiet," he gives me one last look and slinks out the bedroom door, closing it behind him without a sound.

My back hits the wall behind me and I slide to the floor, as I dial emergency services, my hands shaking as I lift the phone to my ear. Just as I do, noises drift up from the heating vent beside me. Angry voices from downstairs. Scuffling. Shouts. Muffled grunts. Crashes and the splintering of wood.

"Emergency Services. Which service do you require?"

I can't move. Or speak. I can only listen to the carnage unfolding downstairs in our home. I'm frightened by what I can hear. The shouting is loud but the words are muffled to my ears, like I'm blocking them out. I can hear furniture breaking, glass shattering, fists and weapons slapping against skin in a frenzied struggle.

"Hello, is someone there? Please respond."

My shaking hand covers my mouth as I try and stay silent. Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet. Tears prickle in my eyes and spill over my cheeks in an endless torrent. More shouting. More crashing. More breakage.

"Hello, if someone's there and you can't speak, dial one on your phone."

I press one.

Bang! Bang!

I jolt in paralysing fear at the sound of the gun. My hands clasp over my ears and the phone falls to the floor. No, please no.

"We are sending help right away. If you can hear me, help is coming."

After an agonising wait, I hear it. The very distant sound of sirens. Heavy footsteps pound through our home, the shouts of desperation and the final slam of a door, before a terrible silence descends all around me.

I take a deep trembling breath and push myself up off the floor, slowly stepping towards the bedroom door. Pulling it open I feel as though I'm drifting along. Not really in control or present in the moment. But I can hear the deafening pounding of my heart as I go downstairs and reach the kitchen, my bare feet touching something sticky on the floor.

Blood.

There's so much blood.

It's everywhere.

I grip the kitchen bench so I don't slip, easing my way towards the lounge, and that's when I see him. Lying on his back, arms splayed wide, body battered and bruised, chest slowly rising and falling.

Blood.

It covers his chest and pools all around his upper body.

"Finn," my voice sounds far away.

His arm raises up and I fall to the floor beside his broken body, my sobs piercing the deafening silence. My hands press down hopelessly on the gaping wound on his chest as he wheezes and strains to pull in air to his splintered lungs. The blood covers my hands and arms.

"Finn....please, no."

His hand shakily reaches out to me, and caresses my cheek and I look at the love of my life as he takes his last breaths in front of me. He smiles weakly and I lean down slowly and gently press my cheek against his.

"My everything..."

I bolt awake and scramble for the bathroom, wrenching the toilet lid up, my knees slamming onto the hard tiles, as my stomach lurches and empties. Minutes later I manage to flush away the rotten stench and drag myself up to standing, leaning heavily on the counter. I dare gaze at the mirror and the sight is nothing less than horrific. In my mind my arms and hands are covered in sticky, dripping, drenching blood.

His blood.

My ears don't recognise the screams of despair coming from somewhere deep within my broken heart. I scrub and scratch and scrape the blood. Tearing and clawing away. I have to get it off. Get it off me. Get it off my skin. I spill soap over me and scrub as hard as I can. Frenzied. Desperate. Frantic. I don't know how much time passes before my arms start tiring and my body begins to shut itself down for self-preservation. Through the tears and vomit and sweat, I look to the mirror again to see the damage I have unknowingly done. The bathroom walls creep closer and the lights seem to dim as my body gives out, blackness thankfully pulling me under to unconsciousness.

I can finally rest my aching body, my fractured heart and my shattered dreams of our future.