Page 9 of Uprising

As Darius sits back down I don’t look at him.

I can’t.

But I’m trembling, fearful, and yet so absolutely furious.

They did this. They murdered Roman and now they’re all stood around acting like it’s some tragedy. Like an awful act of nature.

As soon as the service is done and I can get away with it, I slip out, away from the group of people gathering around us. I murmur about needing fresh air but that’s not what I need.

I need Roman.

I need him so much it hurts.

He’s dead. He’s gone.

I walk not paying attention to where I’m going. I can see a door ahead. I know it can’t lead outside, it could just be a cupboard but I open it and walk in, anxious to get away from all the stares around me.

Only my eyes widen when I realise where I am.

It’s his coffin. I’m here, in the room where it’s been placed ready for the undertakers.

I stare at it stepping forward. Perhaps this was fate, perhaps this was my moment to say goodbye, to get some sort of closure. Only I don’t want too. I don’t want to admit that he’s gone. To accept it and alongside that, accept that me and Lara are stuck were we are.

That we did lose.

That all three of us lost.

How did this happen?

I put my hand on the casket. It’s closed. I guess after what they did to his body they couldn’t exactly have an open one could they?

The wood is smooth. Cold. A sob escapes me and it’s all I can do not to throw myself on top of it and properly give into my despair.

I don’t look around, even as I hear the footsteps getting nearer. Even as I hear them coming right up behind me.

But I know who it is. My jailor back to ensure I don’t do anything to jeopardise his little plan.

The air feels tense. I grit my teeth, compose myself, I know he can’t do anything right now while we’re in public and that at least gives me comfort.

“Weren’t reconsidering your options were you?” He murmurs.

“No.” I reply. Like I have any options.

“Good.” He says stepping even closer. “Because you realise how pointless it would be? I have the entire city’s police at my disposal. If you even think of running, if you even try, I’ll have you dragged back to me within the hour and what would happen to your precious little brat then?”

“I’m not going to run.” I say. At least that’s not my immediate plan because I don’t stand a chance right now and I’m not stupid or desperate enough to convince myself otherwise. I have to bide my time. Play the long game.

“No?” He muses. “After that little outburst I wondered if you’d forgotten yourself?”

“In what way?” I ask turning to look at him.

His face changes, for a second I see what almost looks like sympathy.

“Rose.” He murmurs, like he cares.

I look away, I think I hate him when he’s like this more than when he’s just a straight up brute.

He steps closer, wiping my tears before I can stop him. “You have to get over this.” He says. “You have to move on.”

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