Page 36 of Oblivion
“I’m sorry, Storm,” Indigo said, but his voice only fueled the fire starting inside me.
“Shut up!” I bellowed, looking at him. “She isn’t dead,” I said. “She can’t be dead. She… She’s strong, she’s—”
“Storm,” Atlas said right behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “They found her body. It happened this morning, after we spoke to—”
“Liars!” I yelled out, moving away from them. “They’re all liars. That isn’t Ophelia.” I laughed brokenly. “That can’t be Ophelia.”
My heart hammered violently in my chest, my palms sweaty, my eyes burning from unshed tears. “She can’t be,” I murmured to myself. “It’s impossible.”
“Storm.” Indigo approached me slowly. “I have that buddy in the police department,” he said, but I didn’t want to listen. “The description of the girl matches Ophelia.”
“Noooo!” I yelled out, sliding down onto the floor, my legs unable to hold me upright anymore. “I didn’t tell her,” I whimpered. “I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell her—”
“I’m so sorry, Storm.” Atlas sobbed somewhere on my left side, but I couldn’t see him. Both of them blurred in front of me, hidden behind the tears erupting from my very soul.
“We needed more time,” I cried out. “I needed more time. Fuck!” I slammed my fist into the floor. “She can’t be dead,” I murmured.
“She is,” Indigo answered, and I hated having him here.
“This is all your fault,” I sneered at him. “What did you tell her?” I looked up at his fucking face. “What did you do to her while I was asleep?”
“Storm.” He stumbled backward, lifting his hands in front of him. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell her to leave.”
“Calm down, Storm,” Atlas piped in, but it was too late.
I was getting up, going after Indigo. “What did you guys do to her while I was away? She left, died alone.” My voice broke. “Why did she leave me?”
“Storm,” Indigo murmured. “We fought, but I encouraged her to go to you, to be with you. I blamed her in the beginning, but I knew it wasn’t her fault. I apologized to her.”
“Liar!” I thundered. Reasoning wasn’t going to work for me right now.
But worst of all, I knew it wasn’t their fault. It was mine. I didn’t fight hard enough to keep her by my side. I didn’t try hard enough to show her how much she meant to me.
“How did she die?” I asked, looking at Atlas. “How?”
“Bullet to her forehead,” Atlas answered, swallowing heavily as if even thinking about it made him sick. “She, uh,” he stammered. “There was another body in the cabin. They think it’s Cillian Nightingale.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I didn’t think. I couldn’t think anymore.
I often read about out-of-body experiences, but as I walked toward the desk, all the way to the other side, my body had a mind of its own. My arms pushed everything from the desk, slamming it to the floor. Someone was screaming, yelling, and it took me a moment to figure out that it was me.
The animalistic cries erupting from my chest were like nothing I had ever felt.
I thought my heart was broken before when she left me, but nothing could ever compare to this. She died alone, far away from me, afraid, thinking that I didn’t love her, that I would hurt her.
“I did this,” I sobbed, collapsing in the chair. “I fucking did this!”
“No, Storm,” Atlas argued, shaking his head. “This isn’t your fault.”
But it was. How could he not see it? This was all my fault, and I had to live with the consequences. My soulmate, the one person who could both lift me up high and tear me down, was dead. I would never hear her voice again.
I would never see that smile on her face.
I would never touch her, hold her, kiss her, show her how much I loved her. I would never get to grow old with her now.
