Page 8 of Atonement

4

Sunday

9 p.m.

Darkness consumesme as I sit alone in my room. The only light is a tiny break in the blinds as it casts a small, bright, ray of unwanted illumination across the vast, seemingly empty space. The annoying tick of the clock vibrates through my skull, barely breaking beat before it ticks again and somehow succeeds in agitating me more.

On instinct, I reach out next to me and grab the small metal canister that has the power to take away my life, if I let it. Holding it between my thumb and index finger, I bring it into the small glimmer of light in my darkness and consider its power for only a moment before slipping it quickly into the palm of my hand and raising my glass to my lips.

The amber liquid burns as it coats the back of my throat. A welcome ache that lets me know I’m still alive. That it’s not over. Not yet. Not as long as we’re both still breathing.

We will have our vengeance.

When it comes to Magnolia, our story started off like a damn fairy tale. Once upon a time and all that bullshit. But once upon a time eventually ticks away until neither of you can regrettably take it anymore.

The click of the bullet loading into the gun barely registers in my mind before I find myself taking aim and pulling the trigger.

Bang.

I grin as the fucking thing falls to the floor in pieces. The clock a twisted symbol that I’ve been running from for all these years. The idea that maybe time has run out for us, for our retribution, but I can’t let myself believe that.

Not yet. Not ever. If I can help it.

The gun in my hand falls to my side as I run my fingers through my hair and feel nothing but failure.

“Magnolia,” I sigh. “How the hell did we get here?”

Pushing myself up out of my seat, I saunter over to the window and use my pistol to pull the blinds slightly more ajar. I numbly watch the street below. Waiting for a car to pass. A person to walk by. For some sort of resemblance of life to let me know I’m not locked in my own personal hell with a woman I’m afraid will be the end of me, if I let her.

My eyes meet the floor beneath my feet as I suck in a shaky breath and I find myself pulling the token of all my heartache out of my right pocket and rotating it around on my left ring finger. With tear-filled eyes, I succumb to the knowledge that the tiny gold band has the power to pull the trigger and put the final bullet in my coffin if I let her get the better of me, and so far, I’ve always let her win.

Crash!

My eyes bolt up just as Magnolia comes barging into the room and quickly closes the door behind her. Adrenaline kicks in, the nearly half-bottle of bourbon I drank earlier now an absent memory as I stride to her side and worry.

“Shhh,” she whispers before I can ask. She turns, placing her finger against my lips and causing chills to sweep across my skin.

I absently reach out to her, my mind remembering a time when we weren’t enemies. Her eyes hold mine captive, a secret hangs in them, but unfortunately, I’m too gone from her touch to see clearly what it is.

“Don’t speak,” she softly says. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Her breathing quickens, an electric pulse rushes between us, but I’m pulled away and glance behind her immediately as I hear footsteps quickly rushing down the hall. Looking back up at her with concern, voices I don’t recognize sound off behind the closed door as she takes a step further into my side and I stare back down in her eyes with dread.

“They know too much,” her worry echoes my own as her eyes beg for me to hold her closer. “I don’t think we can talk ourselves out of this one.”

“Since when do you back down without a fight?”

“Since I can’t figure out whose side you’re on anymore. Mine, or yours.”

“Always yours, Mags. Always yours.”

The voices get louder.

The footsteps grow closer.

“How did they find us? I thought the plan was foolproof?” I hiss out in the darkness as she takes another step closer.

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