Page 50 of A Sorrow of Truths

Gray

Here I am again, now staring at switches without the slightest personal remorse. All I can see is Hannah’s tears. I can see them etched into her face as if her sorrow and guilt for a life we could have, laid so heavy on her shoulders she couldn’t move forward until it was taken off them.

I’m not sure I understand that feeling. It’s never been in me. The only comparative sense of sentiment I have to Heather’s body comes from a place of anger and distrust. But, I suppose, given this formidable problem in front of me, I can at least understand the merits of blame.

And that is not for Hannah to carry.

I just needed to know, needed to tell her and feel her in my arms again so that I could make the decision that would, ultimately, take this body from Charlie’s life. He can use blame on me if he wants. He can grow here, live here, spend his time with both Beatrice and I should he choose guidance from me at some point in his life, and then, when he’s an adult and ready, he can press me for destroying her if need be.

That is my burden to carry.

I look over to the two doctors in the room that I called on the way, nodding to make sure they’re both ready and in agreement. More paperwork has already been signed confirming the legitimacy of the act. There will be no retaliation, no civil nor state action regarding this death or the other women who have been my subjects. Wealth makes that happen. Wealth, intelligence and the signed documents pertaining to life saving drugs that I handed over as free collateral to the government for their agreement in this farce years ago.

There isn’t any waiting this time. No quiver in my hand. No thought other than the constancy of Hannah and needing to be back with her.

Three strides. Two switches. And it’s done.

Gone.

The machines, for the first time in ten years, stop.

And a silence comes from that that I can barely remember before it happened.

The sigh that falls from my mouth, as I watch the doctors remove breathing apparatus from her and finish the procedure, is felt in my bones. I might be less than absorbed in the idea of her death, but what does strike me as worthy of analysis is the fact that I’m not remotely bothered about my truths any longer. They’re immaterial. Dispersed somehow.

I carry on watching the doctors signing more documentation and calling a time of death. It isn’t death, not for me. It’s life. A new one.

One I haven’t ever owned before Hannah.

Turning, I move swiftly through the halls and head for the car without a glance backwards. I’m done. This whole fucking place is done but for the benefit it will give Beatrice and Charlie should they choose to remain here. If they don’t want it, I’ll sell and find them somewhere else. Perhaps a new real would be better for them, too, rather than languishing in this desolate hole.

“Gray?” Beatrice calls. I look back, only half stopping myself from getting out of this damn place and back to somewhere I do call home. “What about the others?”

“Pull them out of the trials.”

“It isn’t as simple as that and you know it. I need you here for that. I can’t do it without you.”

My eyes glance at the therapy centre, not giving a damn for the thought other than legal ramifications if they’re not rehabilitated correctly. “Alright. But not now. I’ll come back next week.”

She nods and puts her glasses in her pocket, gently pulling the white lab coat from her shoulders. “And Charlie?”

“I’ll talk to him again soon. I can’t now. I have to go and-”

“Okay, Gray. It’s okay.”

The sight of the doctors wheeling the trolley out into the fresh air, a now dead body on it, wasn’t something I was going to contend with, but it comes up behind Beatrice as she keeps looking at me.

My frown deepens at the vision, not because of the death, but because I can clearly remember the last time I saw her body outside. It was bruised then. Battered and torn because of the mangled wreck of a car she’d been in. No shroud over her back then. No cover to cloak a lifeless frame regardless of the near lifeless body she still held.

I look at my own hands, tracing the lines that have formed in the years since, and wonder where I’ve been in this last decade. Absent from life. Alone in it. Stubborn and persevering to get my truths, perhaps trying to get a revenge that was never achievable. Stupid.

“Gray?” I look up again, watching as Beatrice walks towards me and laughs. “Go get your girl. You don’t have to think anymore.”

My frown evaporates, a small smile replacing it, as they wheel the body towards the van.

“Go get my girl?”

“Yes. It’s what they say in the films. Romance?”