Fallen

Epilogue

This place was too familiar. Too many ghosts. The heat radiating from the bright sun felt wrong. It shouldn't be sunny, allowing people have fun and enjoy themselves. People needed to understand that happiness never lasted.

My footsteps were silent on the grass. I could feel the sweat gathering under my arms and around my neck as I wore thick trousers and a black hoodie under the sweltering hot sun. I yanked the hood far over my eyes before shoving both hands into the hoodie pocket. My legs began to feel weak, but I carried on walking until I was stood over two newly polished gravestones.

Danielle Summerfield (25.05.1997-17.11.21) – a beloved daughter, granddaughter and friend to so many around her. You're with the angels now, Dee.

Mark Osbourne (19.09.1996-17.11.21) – my darling grandson can now lay to rest. We will always keep your memory alive. Not a day will go by where we will not miss and love you.

I felt a pressure behind my eyes and coughed into my fist. I missed them both with each day that passed. Mark's funeral was small, but heartfelt. The owner of the bookshop performed a beautiful eulogy that summed up Mark perfectly. He was a beautiful person with a heart of gold.

I watched Danielle's parents break down in tears at her funeral. Their only child taken away from them. She had planned to do so much with her life. Now her mum had to visit the final Wonder of the World alone. The thought only worsened the tear in my already fractured heart.

As I shuffled past more gravestones, I had to do anything to fight away my tears as I read the names on them. Henry Packer. Cillian Walsh. Raphael Dubois. Elijah Scott. I finally got to meet Elijah's family in the worst circumstance. I had to live knowing that little Hannah would grow up without her dad.

The final gravestone where an angel was resting lay on its own some distance away. An old tree stood beside her, giving her enough shade and protection from the dreary English weather. I felt numb to the core walking those few steps towards her, re-reading the message that took me forever and a day to think of.

Anna Kinsman (01.02.1997-17.11.21) - You're free.

I broke down, collapsing on my knees and clinging onto the gravestone. A thunderous scream erupted from me, but it didn't ease any of the insufferable pain rippling through my body. Birds protested to the noise and spread their wings to scarper from the tree above us. My throat dried up so my screams turned to withered sobs. None of this felt real to me yet. Not even seeing her being lowered into the ground gave me a sense of closure. When I closed my eyes at night, I would re-think the night of her death, but I didn't have enough tears in the world to drown the picture away.

I spent hours by Anna's side not saying a word, feeling the sky open up and eventually rain down on me. As I grazed my fingertips over her name on the stone, I knew the only way to keep her spirit alive was to get my revenge for her death. If it was the last thing I did.