La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

34. La Mort et ses Merveilles

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 34: La Mort et ses Merveilles

All I remembered was seeing Leslie break free from the men holding him back, wrestling out of their grip as he stumbled across the courtyard, nearly falling onto his knees when he reached his mother. A few people had rushed to help her, Clara one of them, but from Leslie's sobs and wails I presumed she was probably already gone. It happened so fast, and with everything that was going on around me, from the shouts to people frantically moving about, I strangely felt disconnected to it all. From that point onwards, everything seemed confusing, and the last thing I remembered was being whisked away and thrown into a store room, the door locked behind me. I didn't know what they were going to do to me.

Honestly I didn't even know how to feel anymore. I was beaten and kicked a few times, but only then as I sat there, back against the wall after what felt like hours did the bruises begin to sting. I was just numb.

It was then when it hit me, all those emotions, all at once. The intense wave of fear and anxiety -but not for myself. For Clara, the one who had saved me from that fox bite. For Isabella, my little sister who had gone through too much. For Leslie, the young man with the sad, sad eyes. As the tears fell down my cheeks, I could only hope that they were okay.

But whatever doubts I had about shooting that man had all but disappeared. He deserved it.

And if I had the chance I'd have shot every single one of them. They were the ones that caught Leslie up in their mess. They were the ones that brought Leslie to the motel that fateful day. My father's blood? It was on their hands. It was all them.

I never even tried to walk around, rummage through the walls to find a secret exit. It was all too late for me. In the darkness of the storage room, I found the peace I needed to finally think and reflect on my life.

If only I could tell Leslie that I was okay, to assure him not to worry about me. But who was I kidding? Knowing him, he was probably thrashing about trying to get me out. He was always like that, impulsive and passionate, an outcast who never really knew how to act appropriately. He always did what he wanted, whenever he wanted. If his heart told him to do it, he'd do it without even a second's hesitation. In a sense he was genuine, never held back from pretensions that had chained the rest of us. In that sense, I really admired him. He was probably the realest person I knew.

He told me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. It was such an honour for me to be such a huge part of his life, to make him happy for once. He'd been through so much, and I was just glad I could help him. If it wasn't for the whole world collapsing I would've never met such a wonderful person. Sure, we had such a rocky start, but the fickle strings of fate really twisted things around hasn't it?

Fate, that sly vixen holding us up by the strings, toying around with us as if we were nothing but lifeless marionettes. And in a sense we were. We made our choices, but fate produced its consequences. I could've shot Leslie back then in that forest. But I didn't. And it turned out to be the best decision of my life. I wouldn't have known such a genuine, kind heart lay in the most broken of men. That even someone like him who had experienced so much pain could love me with such warmth and gentleness that I'll never be able to forget. That someone as brash and crude as him had something so pure. He'd die for me, that poor boy. And I'd do the same.

And now fate was playing its mischievous tricks on me again, snickering at me as it looked down on the travesty of my life. Just as the good can come unexpectedly, so can its opposite. As I sat there thinking to myself, I didn't regret what I did. I did the right thing. It was something I had gradually begun to repeat to myself as I slowly accepted that I needn't feel guilty for that. I'd gladly do that again and again.