Page 19 of Uprising

“Yes there is.” I sob. “Because it should be us.”

“I know.”

“It should be us.” I snarl. My anger surging, every pent up emotion I’ve been trying to numb suddenly there, boiling, erupting up inside me.

“It will be one day.”

“How can it?” I gasp. He’s dead. He’s gone. There is no ‘us’ now. There is no anything and there never will be.

He tilts his head. “Maybe not in this life. Maybe we will have to wait until the next…”

I let out a whimper. I can’t spend my life without him. I can barely manage one day, how can I live for years like this? For decades?

“Love like ours doesn’t die Rose. Love like ours never dies.”

“But you did.” I say. “You died. You left me, you left me and Lara.”

I know it’s unfair to be angry at him, to see this as his fault but he promised, he promised he would save us and yet here we are.

But then I promised too didn’t I? I promised to marry him and here I am about to marry another man instead.

My body slumps as that realisation hits me. “I let you down.” I murmur.

He shakes his head, cups my cheek. “You’ve never let me down.”

I stare back at him, no longer capable of words. This man changed my life, this man is my life. My soul and his are connected, joined, one and the same.

And yet he is gone.

He is gone.

And I am here, stuck in this world, stuck in this hateful place, knowing I will never wake and see his face, that I’ll never see his smile, never hear his laughter or feel his touch ever again.

“I can’t do it.” I gasp. “I can’t do this. I can’t live without you.”

Only he doesn’t reply. He just fades away, leaving me with my tears and my pain and the knowledge that when I awake the man beside me will no doubt punish me for daring to speak his name again. For daring to utter it.

* * *

I’m wokenby the alarm. Darius grunts, turning it off, clearly he drunk enough last night to ensure he didn’t have to hear my usual cries. I guess he didn’t want to sour the moment with the thought that I was still pining after another man, still wishing it was Roman beside me and not him.

He rolls over grinning at me. His pearly whites almost glowing against the morning light.

“Show time.” He says.

I fucking hate him. I hate that smile, I hate the way he speaks, most of all I hate the way his smell seems to wrap around me like a vapour from the pits of hell.

He didn’t let me sleep alone. He refused to honour that tradition. I guess it doesn’t matter because it’s not like we’re honouring any of the others. There’s no love. No consent. This is a forced marriage in every sense of the word.

He gets up, walks to the dressing room and comes back fully clothed, though thankfully not in his wedding suit.

“Tell me you remember.” He says.

I meet his eyes, wanting to argue, wanting to show defiance.

“Rose.” He half snaps. “Tell me you understand what the consequences are if you fuck this up.”

I grit my teeth and nod. I’m not a fucking child. I know exactly what the consequences are. He’s made that abundantly clear.

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