Authors: Kirsty Moseley
For too long I drifted in and out of my nightmares. Just as some
semblance of the world came back to me again I was pulled back under, crushed
by the onslaught of both memories and dreams. By the time I could fully open my
eyes and blink without being dragged back into sleep, it was dark outside. The
glow of the halogen strip lighting was too bright as I squinted up at the
ceiling. My whole body hurt, but mostly my chest which felt like someone had
hollowed me out with some rusty, blunt instrument, leaving just an empty shell
behind. The grief felt like it had torn me apart inside, took all my hope,
dreams and happiness and separated them from me completely so that I could
barely even remember what it felt like not to feel like I’d been hit by a train
at full speed.
I closed my eyes again, swallowing as another wave of
sadness rushed over me. The pain was so bad that I wanted to double up, wail
and scream - but none of that happened. Instead, a silent tear rolled down my
cheek, tickling as it fell down to the pillow. I didn’t even have the energy to
wipe it.
“Maisie? Sweetheart, are you awake for real this time?”
My dad’s voice used to be so comforting to me, the very
essence of home, but I felt nothing as he spoke. Numbness and sadness were the
only things that registered. I closed my eyes, hoping that if I faked sleep
everything would just disappear. I couldn’t speak to anyone right now; if I did
I wasn’t sure what would come out of my mouth. Maybe it would just be a banshee
like scream that lasted forever.
A hand stroked the hair back from my forehead. “Are you okay?”
Dad asked, his voice cracking either through emotion or worry.
The devastation of losing Luke, of finding out all of those
awful things about him before that, all of it had just left me broken. My
vision swam before my eyes as more tears pooled there. I felt like I was stuck
in some sort of snowstorm, unable to see the end of this turmoil. Again, I had
that notion of free falling, like I was hurtling towards the earth with no
control and nothing to grab on to. Luke was my thing that I could always hold
on to, but now he was gone. So this time I was going to hit the ground –
actually, it felt as if I already had. It felt like I’d crashed down to earth
at full speed, smashing everything in my wake, a fall that was sure to kill me.
Only it hadn’t. And I hated that I was alive. I hated that Luke was gone and
that I was going to have to deal with this all alone. For so long I’d had him
to lean on, I wasn’t sure I could cope without him. I hated that my dad was
trying to comfort me. I hated that all I wanted to do was scream, but I seemed
to have lost the ability to do so.
“Mom’s outside getting some air. You want me to get Mom?”
Dad asked, stroking my hair again. I turned my head, looking up at him properly
for the first time. Worry lined his forehead and made crinkles around his
concerned green eyes. He looked like he’d aged ten years since I last saw him.
He smiled sympathetically as his thumb rhythmically brushed across my forehead
like he always used to when he was trying to get me to go to sleep when I was a
small child. “What can I do? Are you in pain? Want a doctor?” he asked. His
voice was so stressed that before this happened I would have felt awful for
putting him through this, but now that Luke was gone I couldn’t feel anything.
Using the all of my strength I twisted, rolling over so that
my back was to him. I ignored the pain in my ribs and the tugging sensation in
the back of my hand from the drip that I had inserted. I honestly couldn’t care
less if it came free or not. I pulled the sheets up to my chin and laid there
staring at the black sky out of the window as I cried silently, soaking my
pillow within seconds.
Dad sat on the bed behind me, stroking the top of my head,
gripping my shoulder too tightly for comfort. “I’m so sorry, Maisie. I wish I
could stop this, I wish I could help you, but I just don’t know how,” he
muttered. “Luke was a good guy. I know you loved him. I’m sorry he died, I’m so
sorry. It may not feel like it now, but you’ll get through this, I promise.
We’re all here for you.”
My thoughts wandered to the last conversation Luke and I
had. My memories of him were now tarnished, now a little dirty and ruined
because I’d found out the real him, the one that did all those horrible things,
the one that had actually committed murder. The pain seemed to double in my
chest because I couldn’t even grieve properly for my boyfriend because all that
I could think about was the fact that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. I
hated him for that, for ruining my memories and painting them with something
dirty and unimaginable. But still I grieved for the future with him that I’d
lost.
Somewhere in the back of my mind my dad’s words registered.
Luke was a good guy? Did he really say that? Did he not know that Luke had
driven us off of the bridge on purpose, that he had killed Sandy because she
was threatening to tell me that Luke was the one behind all the strange things
that had happened?
In a way I envied my dad. I wished I didn’t know about this
part of Luke either. I wished that I still thought he was a good guy instead of
the new things I’d learnt about him. Everyone was going to know what happened
soon enough too. And I was the one that was going to have to deliver the blow.
I was the one that was going to have to tell everyone what Luke was really
like. It was me that was going to devastate his parents and friends by telling
them the sweet and kind Luke didn’t actually exist. I was going to have to tell
his mom that her son was a murderer. I had no idea how I was supposed to do
that. How could I shatter the illusions of everyone and make them think ill of
the dead?
My dad sighed and bent down, kissing my cheek softly before
wiping away my tears. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked.
I swallowed loudly, closing my eyes. “Do his parents know
that he… he…” I swallowed, unable to say the words. “Luke’s housekeeper will
know how to get hold of them if they’re not in the country,” I muttered, not
wanting to talk but knowing that I needed to.
“Yeah. They flew in yesterday morning. They came by to see
you earlier but you were still unconscious.”
They flew in yesterday morning? The crash only happened
last night. Or did it?
“How long was I asleep for?” I asked, confused.
“Two and a half days. We were worried that you’d never wake
up. Your mom’s been a mess; I swear I’ve never seen her like this at all. She’s
usually so strong in hospitals but not this time. And Alex, even the nurses
couldn’t get him to leave. He sat by your bed the whole time, even slept here.
He said it was a twin loyalty thing.” His tone was light, as if he was trying
to make me feel better. It didn’t work though. “Mrs Hannigan left you some
stuff for when you woke up.” He shifted on the bed and my ears perked up at
that. I turned my head, pushing myself up carefully as my dad offered me a lumpy
brown bag.
My chin trembled as I fought the urge to break down. I
didn’t want to be sedated again in case the nightmares started again. I looked
down it, unsure if I was strong enough to see what was inside. Dad sat back
down next to me and draped his arm across my shoulder supportively as he leant
in and pressed his forehead to my temple. “You don’t have to look now if you
don’t want to. Mrs Hannigan just wanted you to have these because she knew how
close you two were,” he said soothingly.
I nodded, trying to breathe normally as my heart
constricted. My hands were shaking as I reached into the bag, pulling out three
things. The first was his football lettered jacket. He didn’t wear it very
often; I had probably worn it more times than he had if I was honest. It still
smelt like him though, and a strangled whimper left my lips as I held the soft
material up to my nose and inhaled deeply. I knew then and there that I would
never get over him. There would always be a part of me missing inside, a broken
part that would never heal.
A sparkle of light caught my eye on my lap, so I moved the
jacket, seeing that one of the other items was a silver photo frame, I
recognised it immediately. I could barely make out the picture through the
blurriness of my eyes where they were filled with tears, but I didn’t need to
look to know it was the photo of us at the dance. It was Luke’s favourite
picture and the one he had by his bed. He even had a smaller version of it in
his wallet.
I hugged the photo to my chest as I picked up the last item.
It was a small envelope with purple flowers in one corner. My name was written
on the front in handwriting I didn’t recognise. I looked up at my dad, not
wanting to open it in front of him. For some reason I needed to do this in private,
but I couldn’t even explain why. My dad hadn’t moved the whole time that’d I’d
opened the things. He smiled down at me now, brushing my matted hair over my
shoulder.
“Think I can have some privacy to open this?” I asked,
hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight. He didn’t. He just nodded, kissed my
forehead and stood up, strutting out of the room and letting the door swing
shut behind him.
I turned my attention back to the envelope. The writing was
pretty, curly, and definitely female. I gulped as I slid in one finger, ripping
it open and pulling out the single sheet of matching paper. I held my breath as
I read the words.
Maisie,
I hope this letter finds you well. We did try to visit,
but you were sleeping.
I’ve given you a couple of Luke’s things. He loved you so
very much, and I know he would have wanted you to have them.
I missed so much of Luke’s life, I was barely around for
him, and even when I was here I was too busy to spend time with him. I barely
even knew him and what he liked and disliked. Had I known that the time with my
son would be limited, I would have done things differently and spent more time
with him. But it is too late now.
I never got the chance to tell him how proud I am of him.
I never got to watch him play football, and I never got to see him dressed up
in a tux to take you to the dance in this photo. I was too busy to do those
things, and for that I will never forgive myself. I was a terrible mother to
him, as you probably noticed, but I loved him dearly.
I wanted to thank you for making Luke so happy. If there
was one thing I was sure of with Luke, it was that he was desperately in love
with you. He told me several times that you were the one and that you two would
be together forever. Had this terrible accident not happened I have no doubt in
my mind that he would have been a fine man, and that you two would have gone
off to college, gotten married, and then made me a grandmother several times
over. I wish with all of my heart that could still happen.
I know I wasn’t there for Luke in his life, but if you
let me, I would very much like to be there for you. I know you must be in agony
right now, so if you need to talk or even want to come and sort through Luke’s
possessions then you’re very welcome to come to the house any time. Perhaps, in
time, I can get to know my son through you and your memories of him. I know
this is a lot to ask of you, and I do not deserve it, but if you could find it
in your heart, I would be most grateful.
In a strange way this has all taught me a valuable
lesson, all be it too late now. Words of advice from a stupid old lady, Maisie,
never take your family for granted. Make the most of every day with them and
never be too busy to spend time with a loved one, because one day all you’ll be
left with are your memories, and sometimes, like me, maybe not even those.
Take care,
Judith Hannigan
I read the note twice, my heart in my throat. Although the
note was fairly formal, I could feel her guilt and pain behind the words. She
had barely known her son, and now he was gone so she would never have the
chance. Again, I hated him for what he’d done and for the fact that his mother
was going to find out all of those horrible things about him. How was she going
to feel then? How was she going to deal with the horror of it on top of her
grief and guilt for not being there?
I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. “I hate you,
Luke,” I whispered. I didn’t though, that wasn’t true. I didn’t think I could
ever truly hate him, I just hated being in this situation, and he was the one
that put me here.
Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Did I really have to tell
the truth? No one but me and Luke knew that it was him. The police
investigation had brought up nothing conclusive. There was never anything to
link Luke to the things he sent to me, or to Sandy’s murder. Did I really have
to break the hearts of so many people? I thought about my memories of Luke.
With every part of my being I wished I didn’t know this information. It was so
hard to deal with the loss and the knowledge together. If I could erase the
knowledge from my memory I would do it in an instant. So why was I about to
make other people hurt this much? Why was I planning on telling his mother all
these things, when there was nothing they could do about it now anyway? What
good could come of me telling people the truth? I could see no good in anything
anymore, and the more I thought about it, the more confused I got.
I read Luke’s mom’s note one more time, but this time with a
fresh perspective. She was so proud of him, she’d said so herself, but if she
knew the truth would that take that away from her pride? Luke was dead, he had
already been punished, and nothing else could come of people knowing that he
was behind it all. However, deep down I knew that if the thoughts that were
formulating in my mind were to come into practice then I’d have to lie to every
single person I loved, just to save the memory of the man I loved. I wasn’t
sure what to do for the best.