Kayalina

An Alternate Ending

If you liked "Kayalina" before, be prepared for a twisted, interesting ending. I didn't just want this short story to sit here, so I decided that I would write the ending the way I had originally planned before. 

Without further introduction, I present to you, Kayalina: An Alternate Ending

Enjoy!

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 I waited all night, memorizing each scuff on the white of the hospital floor and every dip or crack in the foam-tiled ceiling.

My dad and step-mom had sat diligently with me for a long time, but they needed rest. Jen had retired to the nap room down the hall, but Dad refused to leave my side, and eventually fell asleep in the chair next to me.

I squirmed out of his hug as it got tighter while he slept and curled up beside him instead.

The doctor had told me everything I didn't want to hear; critical condition, the knife did extreme internal damage, he has to be held in intensive care, and he hasn't woken up--but he was alive.

Still, I could not bring myself to find any ease. The police had already collected my statement and informed me that they still had not found Jordan, and our story had hit the local news 3 times. I didn't want anything to do with the news; my dad had willingly stopped them from filming any pictures of me or Lucas.

My eyes quickly moved to the clock; 2 AM. The doctors said that I could go see him in the morning if he pulled through the night. Was this considered as morning? Surely they couldn't expect me to wait until dawn, midnight had been hard enough. I shook my head, laughing bitterly to myself; this was the start to my new year.

... Yes, I remembered every small detail from the beginning, the years to come, and the end.

I felt a light tugging on my shirt. "Mommy, why are you crying?"

I wiped my eyes before looking down at my beautiful boy and stared at him for a moment, stroking his raven-wing hair and looking in his emerald eyes.

"Mommy?" he asked again.

"I was thinking about Daddy," I whispered.

He gave me a knowing look. "It's hard for you to come home."

Taking his hand, I led my son over to my old bed and sat. He was right, of course. Being home where mine and Lucas' story really began was hard, but not as difficult as walking the castle halls where it ended.

7 years had passed since that night at the dance. In that time, Lucas had recovered, we married, took up our reign as a united front and, on January first 5 years ago, we had or son.

I felt little legs place themselves on my lap. "Daddy never liked you sad, I don't either," he thought for a moment, "tell me about the first time he came here and you shook mud on his boots? Or when Daddy and you had hay fights in the loft? That always makes you happy."

I smiled at my boy. "You want to know what makes me really happy?"

"Yes," he said, curiosity plain on his face.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, stood up and started spinning with him around the room. I let his laughter fill my ears, let his smile wash away my pain, and let this memory replace the pain of watching his father die at the hand of his step-father.

Time slowed as I remembered seeing the blade that pierced his heart out of Nicolae's greed for the throne. I had suppressed the scream from my hiding place, the one Lucas had put me in before telling me what was going on. The moment his back was turned, I had held my husband, begged him to stay with me. Screamed for someone to come but, unlike that night at the dance, there was no Jake to save him...

I had not realized that I stopped spinning until I felt a small pair of arms wrap around my neck. "Now will you tell me, Mommy?"

I looked at my son and in that moment, I could see the great man he would be; noble, just like his father. "You, Luca."

The End.