The Candidate ✓ (Book Two)

Chapter Sixteen

  Now, I'm holding one of the first signed copies of our book in my hands. It's thick- about the width of my fingers. We've been working on this thing for seven years- and it's almost three hundred thousand words, so the thickness was to be expected. It details everything we can tell without compromising national security- and without bringing up excruciatingly painful memories for a few people. I wasn't there- so I can't personally detail the screams that filled command opps when Minister Garland saw his son beheaded, but from what I've been told- his screams and panic attack were the kind that you'd never forget. Kyle's face darkened as he talked about it, and it wasn't more than thirty seconds before he looked like he was going to vomit.

  Minister Garland had just lost his best friend too- so his sons death was really the breaking point. Out of respect and basic human decency, we've chosen to leave the parts about him out. He's attempted to kill himself multiple times just in the past year- we're not going to be the reason he tries again.

I look around the open-concept Wells Presidential library. Today, a thousand or so people will get the first copies of our book. Outside- secret service is being extra thorough with security because of the crowd. I glance at my phone on the table Kyle and I are sitting at, and sigh. I can't not call him, with today's events- even though we've left anything about his son out of the book.

I tap his number in on my phone's touchscreen. It rings a few times before he finally picks up. "Hey- I just wanted to check in on you. How are..you doing?"

"Well I'm not dead yet, unfortunately. My asshole doctors won't allow me to travel to the U.S to end it with medical help." He casually replies.

"Maybe if you were thinking clearly-"

"What's there to think about, Lauren?" He interrupts. "My son's been dead for almost nine years."

"And my first daughter's been dead for almost eleven." I shoot back. Kyle's head jerks  up from signing a book. "You've got to at least try to fight it. If you still... don't want to be alive in a year.. I can help you get over here."

"I have tried-" He sighs. "But thanks for that offer. I'll be taking it in exactly one year."

He hangs up. Kyle knows who I was talking to without asking. I sit back, not mentally ready for the crowd like always, and try to fake smile. We have about half an hour before they're let in, so I really need to get my shit together.

  "I.. I need a minute." I announce to Kyle and the secret service. I walk to the closest bathroom and shut myself in.

  "Come on you're a badass you've got this-" I tell myself in the mirror. The door swings open and Kyle walks in. He immediately takes me in his arms.

  "What's going on up there?" He cups my face in his hands, worried. "I can't read your body language when you completely shut down like that."

  I don't say anything. My mind wanders back to Amber again. He was thirteen years old- and he'd be twenty one now. He'll never fall in love with anybody - never get to do his dream job, and it's my fault. If I hadn't made a thirteen year old run when he was already in pain to begin with- he might've been able to stick it out until the government's found us. His father wouldn't have ever had to see the beheaded, bullet filled face of his son- and he wouldn't be trying  a new, creative way to kill himself every single day. Every time the doctors think they've taken away every possible method, and put him on suicide watch, he still finds a way. He's not allowed to have anything sharp in his house- anything in general that could be used to get dead.

  So one time he ripped the metal vent out of his ceiling and tried to slice his throat with it- as you can imagine that didn't work out. I lean into Kyle, my eyes looking off into space.