Rhys stared at the blank sheet of paper that lay beneath his hand. There were so many things he wanted to say to so many people. Things they needed to know, but probably never would. Things he could never tell them, not in so many words. Things that were buried so deep that tapping into those feelings was like opening the floodgates.
No matter what he said or how he acted, when the end came, he wanted to be remembered and missed by someone. Anyone. It didn't matter who.
He'd cheated Death so many times before, he'd lost count, but he knew he couldn't cheat Death forever. Everyone died sometime. He knew death wasn't final, and yet, he still feared it, just like any other mortal might.
In the end, his life didn't really matter. He knew what he had to do and he intended to do it, no matter what. It was the only way he could protect Riley, it was the only way he could keep her safe, and it was the only way he could ever hope to redeem his own soul.
He set the pen to paper and scribbled the words, Dear Riley and then thought better of it and scratched them out. No, it was better to leave things as they were. He'd never stop loving her in his heart, but that ship had sailed. She'd moved on, and it was better that way. She could think whatever she wanted of him. It no longer mattered.
He exhaled a slow breath and set the pen to paper again. There was someone else who needed to know how he felt, someone who'd never read the words he was going to write, never know how deeply he was loved and missed.
Dear Patrick...
Rhys paused, his heart heavy with anguish and grief. What was it he wanted to say, what was he wanted him to know" I love you, he thought, but his feelings went so much deeper than that. He knew Riley had suffered that same pain and was feeling that same loss, but he didn't know how to help her anymore than he knew how to help himself.
I don't know what to say to you. I don't know how to tell you how much I love you and miss you. I know it seems silly. Your life hadn't even had a chance to begin before it was snuffed out. You didn't even have a chance to be born.
How is it that I know you so well and miss you? You were a dream, Paddy. Just like your mother. A dream that could never come true. A dream given to me to give me hope at a time when I was lost to despair. You were only a dream, but to me, you were real. It was all real. You, Emily, Johnny. The life that I'll never have now. My children, our children. Your mother's and mine. When I think about that dream, I just want to die. Ironic, isn't it' A dream that was meant to instill hope now only gives me pain.
But you were real, Pat. You would have been born if it hadn't been for them. I'm going to kill them for that and for what they did to your mother. I'm going to avenge you both. I swear to God, I am, or I'm going to die trying. Nothing really matters anymore. All that ever mattered has been taken from me.
I'm sorry, Pat. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, and I'm sorry we'll never have the life together that I wanted so badly. We'll never go fishing together or to baseball games or to Cub Scouts or whatever it is fathers do with their sons. I don't even know. I lost my own father too soon and Dylan tried, but our life wasn't normal. My life has never been normal. God, what I wouldn't give for a normal life. But I chose this life, or so they tell me, and if I succeed, there's a small glimmer of hope.
Maybe I'll see you again someday. God, I hope so. I can't think of any better reward than to see you again. If there really is a God in Heaven, then maybe I'll have my wish someday. Another chance, another life. They say that to love and to have lost is better than never to have loved at all, but I'm not so sure that's true. I've lost so many people, Patrick, but losing you has been the hardest. The loss of innocents usually is.
There's been too much suffering, too much loss, too much grief, too much pain. I'm going to finish this one way or another. Whether I live or die is of no consequence anymore. Your mother will have her freedom, and you will have a chance to be born again.
I love and miss you, and no matter what happens, I always will.
Dad
Rhys set the pen down, rested his head against folded arms, and wept heart-wrenching sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. He wept for what seemed like forever, the damn inside breaking and letting loose a torrent of tears, washing away the pain and the grief, leaving him feeling empty and alone.
After a while, he lifted his head and wiped the tears away. He picked up the paper that lay before him, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his journal. No one would ever read what was written there, until he was gone. No one would ever know what he was feeling, until it was too late. It was just better that way.
No matter what he said or how he acted, when the end came, he wanted to be remembered and missed by someone. Anyone. It didn't matter who.
He'd cheated Death so many times before, he'd lost count, but he knew he couldn't cheat Death forever. Everyone died sometime. He knew death wasn't final, and yet, he still feared it, just like any other mortal might.
In the end, his life didn't really matter. He knew what he had to do and he intended to do it, no matter what. It was the only way he could protect Riley, it was the only way he could keep her safe, and it was the only way he could ever hope to redeem his own soul.
He set the pen to paper and scribbled the words, Dear Riley and then thought better of it and scratched them out. No, it was better to leave things as they were. He'd never stop loving her in his heart, but that ship had sailed. She'd moved on, and it was better that way. She could think whatever she wanted of him. It no longer mattered.
He exhaled a slow breath and set the pen to paper again. There was someone else who needed to know how he felt, someone who'd never read the words he was going to write, never know how deeply he was loved and missed.
Dear Patrick...
Rhys paused, his heart heavy with anguish and grief. What was it he wanted to say, what was he wanted him to know" I love you, he thought, but his feelings went so much deeper than that. He knew Riley had suffered that same pain and was feeling that same loss, but he didn't know how to help her anymore than he knew how to help himself.
I don't know what to say to you. I don't know how to tell you how much I love you and miss you. I know it seems silly. Your life hadn't even had a chance to begin before it was snuffed out. You didn't even have a chance to be born.
How is it that I know you so well and miss you? You were a dream, Paddy. Just like your mother. A dream that could never come true. A dream given to me to give me hope at a time when I was lost to despair. You were only a dream, but to me, you were real. It was all real. You, Emily, Johnny. The life that I'll never have now. My children, our children. Your mother's and mine. When I think about that dream, I just want to die. Ironic, isn't it' A dream that was meant to instill hope now only gives me pain.
But you were real, Pat. You would have been born if it hadn't been for them. I'm going to kill them for that and for what they did to your mother. I'm going to avenge you both. I swear to God, I am, or I'm going to die trying. Nothing really matters anymore. All that ever mattered has been taken from me.
I'm sorry, Pat. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, and I'm sorry we'll never have the life together that I wanted so badly. We'll never go fishing together or to baseball games or to Cub Scouts or whatever it is fathers do with their sons. I don't even know. I lost my own father too soon and Dylan tried, but our life wasn't normal. My life has never been normal. God, what I wouldn't give for a normal life. But I chose this life, or so they tell me, and if I succeed, there's a small glimmer of hope.
Maybe I'll see you again someday. God, I hope so. I can't think of any better reward than to see you again. If there really is a God in Heaven, then maybe I'll have my wish someday. Another chance, another life. They say that to love and to have lost is better than never to have loved at all, but I'm not so sure that's true. I've lost so many people, Patrick, but losing you has been the hardest. The loss of innocents usually is.
There's been too much suffering, too much loss, too much grief, too much pain. I'm going to finish this one way or another. Whether I live or die is of no consequence anymore. Your mother will have her freedom, and you will have a chance to be born again.
I love and miss you, and no matter what happens, I always will.
Dad
Rhys set the pen down, rested his head against folded arms, and wept heart-wrenching sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. He wept for what seemed like forever, the damn inside breaking and letting loose a torrent of tears, washing away the pain and the grief, leaving him feeling empty and alone.
After a while, he lifted his head and wiped the tears away. He picked up the paper that lay before him, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his journal. No one would ever read what was written there, until he was gone. No one would ever know what he was feeling, until it was too late. It was just better that way.