Sweet Retribution (Book 2) (Editing and Improving) x

A Final Goodbye

Present Tense
Axel's P.O.V

The forecast was grey and dejected, mirroring exactly how I was feeling.

The rain splattering against the window was acting a temporary saviour to my attention, keeping me distracted from the brutal reality awaiting me. However, it only did so much and not for very long. 

There it was again, that hole thumped through my chest plate, stopping the beat of my heart as I skimmed the idea of turning to face her. This was the final stage of our life together. The last ever goodbye. The last ever kiss I would press to her soft cheek. It didn’t feel real. Surely, I was entombed inside of some kind of nightmare. My wife wasn’t dead - of course she wasn't. I saw her alive and well just yesterday. It is the sight of Agatha’s brother in law pulling into the church car park that forces  me to see how dangerously I was teetering on the edge of reality versus delusion. Somehow, the delusion seemed so much more bearable. 

I glared aimlessly through the raindrops splattered across the pane of the window, too afraid to turn around. It wasn’t the initial seeing my darling wife that planted a nauseous bulb in the pit of my stomach but, in fact, the lightning bolt of actualism that was sure to shroud my every sense after I had. 

It was knowing that once this service ended, so would the union between our hearts for now only one would still be beating. It was knowing that I would be leaving her in that godforsaken hole, unable to keep her warm, unable to hold her, unable to comfort her. It was knowing this was the end of our road and that it had come around much too prematurely. 

It was knowing that I would never be able to whisper how much I loved her as I kissed up her neck. I was knowing I would never be able to wipe her tears away because now, no more would ever fall. It was knowing I would never see her again. 

I would be a widow and I wasn’t ready for it at all. 

I had planned to bury her beneath the grand oak tree at the side of our farm, the same special place where we had once spent many of our adolescent summers, lying upon one another as we sang sweet songs and played eye spy together. Yet, even so close to home, she would forever be out of my reach. 

The reveries unsteady me to the extent of needing to lean upon the windowsill. My chest begins to shudder as I try and fail to stifle the sobs coming from deep inside my chest. How could the love of my life, the woman who has only ever had my heart, be gone? How could I be without her? 

I finished the depressing remnants of my whiskey just in time for Father Latham to come and inform me that he was ready to begin the service. I wanted to tell him that no matter how prepared and ready to go he was, I was not anywhere close. I wanted to drop to my knees and wail away the deep, dark and relentless ache sitting so heavily inside of me. 

“Are you all right, Mr James?” Latham asks, pressing his palm to my shoulder. 

No. Not at fucking all. I assumed he knew that already though, the smell of alcohol oozing from my every pore was a bit of a giveaway. 

Since that fucker, Gray shot eight rounds into my Agatha's chest, I had been enveloped by a permanent hangover. All of the judgemental looks of shame that came from Agatha’s family each time we had gathered for the funeral arrangements hadn’t gone unnoticed. I had overheard what her sister, Lori had to say about me earlier this morning as I contemplated pulling my necktie a little too tightly. I just didn’t give a fuck. I would grieve in a way that made it slightly more bearable to live without my soul mate and if anyone had a problem with that, they could fuck right off. 

“No. Far from it, Father.” I answered bluntly as I straightened my tie and buttoned my blazer. I deliberately dismissed his pitying expression, it wouldn’t bring Agatha back. Nothing would. 

“Your son has been asking for you.” 

Given that my phone had been vibrating like the ass of a bumblebee for the last half hour, I wasn't surprised. However, I give a small nod of acknowledgement. 

“I'm coming now, thank you.” 

Latham took the cue to leave and I stared through the glass of the church window and watched as the pallbearers made their way to fetch my darling wife. I needed some fucking air. 

I left the chapel of rest in a foul mood, one ridiculously and unfairly directed at Adara. Had she just taken the lift that night, had she just let me pick her up, none of this would have happened. In two years I had gone from having everything to having nothing.

My wife and daughter were dead, my son and his family had moved abroad and what little friends I once had, didn't like the alcoholic version of me and crossed the street whenever they saw me approaching. 

I stand beside the silver hearse, swallowing the heavy lump lodged inside my throat. With the chrome exterior, the wreaths that said 'Wife' and 'Mother' and the coffin now being slid inside, I felt as though I were going to collapse. My hands trembled uncontrollably as they closed the door. It was indescribably agonising. 

The hearse pulled away from its parked position and slowly began to make its way to the cemetery on the other side of town. Radleigh, Agatha's other sister and Nero, her brother, walked alongside me behind her. Each of us followed, loving and missing her as she embarked on her final journey. 

Twelve of us stood around the six foot hole. The dress code was set as being colourful but nobody, not even I, abided by that. There was nothing colourful about this. The world had lost the kindest soul and it would never be the same. 

The six men wore various black suits and the six women all wore either a blouse and black skirt or a plain black dress. Agatha had always said she wanted a colourful funeral but given how premature her death had been and given the way she had died, I didn't think colour was appropriate. 

The priest read some poem off the internet and waffled on about how Agatha was a much loved member of the community despite it being total bullshit. Radleigh and Nero said their goodbyes and then it was my turn to speak. 

The other attendees ogled at me, as though expecting me to have a mental breakdown. They weren't far off the mark, I was a hairline away from my resolve collapsing. 

“From the first moment I saw you,” I took a sharp breath, my chest feeling as though it had been impaled by the blade of an iron claymore. How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to say one final goodbye to the one and only love of my life? How was I supposed to finalize this fucking nightmare?

“You never failed to amaze me. With your rambunctious humour, your wild giggle and your strength, I knew I would love you forever.”

I listened to the birdsong and sporadic sniffling around me, resisting the urge to turn to Agatha and make an entirely inappropriate joke. It was as though someone had punched me in the throat. She wasn't there. She never would be at my side again. I would never share another dad joke or see her roll her eyes as I chuckled like an utter goofball. Fuck this was just…so fucking hard. 

“You blessed me with three children, two of whom will be there for you when you reach the pearly gates and you unknowingly made my life whole,”

The tears dribbled down my cheeks into my stubble and I picked angrily at the skin around my thumb, a bad habit I fall into whenever finding it hard to keep my anger stifled. 

“You'll be sorely missed my darling, my heart will never heal nor love anyone other than you. Sleep well, my love. I will see you soon.” 

The priest resumed the service but I had entirely zoned out. 

'Sleep good’ was something the two of us had said to one another every night for our 25 years of marriage, even after the most brutal of arguments it was always said. Fucking hell, the emotional agony was just too much. Despite the service still going on, I took myself away and headed to the bar where I had arranged the wake. I intended to drown every single one of my sorrows and I intended to do it to the point where I woke with potent amnesia.

Updated April 25th 2022
Poor Axel huh?!

Word Count - 1512