Murder City

Chapter Seventeen

17 || Aurora Bennett

I wasn't with Fletcher last night, but my brain has constructed the event so perfectly in my head that it feels like I was sat right next to him.

I see his car, it's new beige coat dimmed under the streetlights. He's sat in the front seat, the ends of his knuckles bleached white as he grips the leather steering wheel. His favorite coat slung over his shoulders, his white tee-shirt contrasting the darkness of the coat. His short, dirty-blonde hair now a fresh, newly dyed blonde. It's shoulder-length. Long. I've always liked it long.

He makes a sharp turn in the parking lot, driving into the empty main road. He's breathing heavily, I can hear it. His car is swerving. It swerves left, then regains itself, drives straight, then swerves to the right, then straight ahead again. The road, still empty, one long, dark stretch. 

He's drunk. His vision slightly blurs as he takes one hand from the wheel to rub his eye.

Another car, a grey Prius, slowly drives out of an industrial, multi-level parking lot. The man inside is sober, unlike Fletcher. He's responsible, unlike Fletcher. He doesn't see it coming, unlike Fletcher. Fletcher swerves to the left, towards the opening in the road, his eyes widen, his foot clamps on the break. 

It's too late.

The cars collide. Fletcher's body flings through the air. His windshield shatters into pieces. He thinks, as his body tumbles slowly to the ground, about how he spent his one chance on earth. 

His body hits the floor.

His bones snap as he makes contact with the concrete. 

Theres no hope for the other driver. 

However, theres hope for Fletcher, there always is. 

Blood trickles from all parts of his body, gaping wounds begin to rip open. Bruises begin to form. His bones contort into impossible ways, some snapping out from his skin. 

He exhales a final breath.

The last thing he hears is the sirens incoming.

I touch his hair, my gentle fingers stroke his blonde locks from his forehead. I repeat this motion, hoping to somehow calm him, even though he's in the deepest state of calm. "Fletcher." I mumble, tears making my voice full, as if I'm speaking through a mouthful of food. 

I can't lose him. 

I can't lose another person to a car accident. I wont let him suffer the same pain as my father. I keep stroking his hair, sometimes pressing kisses to the back of his head. I don't love him like a girlfriend loves her boyfriend anymore, but I still love him. Yeah, he was a lousy lover, but that doesn't mean he deserves this. 

I lay in the hospital bed behind him, crying into his shoulder. I breathe in his scent, worried it will be the last time I smell it. I've always loved the way he smelt. His hair feels so soft under my touch, I wish I could keep a strand of it. 

I wrap one arm around his waist, the other hand entangled in his hair. 

My hand slips from his hair to his chest, and I wait. 

I feel his heart beating. 

I sigh, relieved. I can't lose him. 

Billie, who sits across the room in a chair, flips through a magazine. "The doctors said he would be okay, Ari." Billie doesn't look up as he speaks to me, he seems to be too engrossed in whatever article his eye's skim over. "Don't worry about him." He finishes.

I scoff in response, my face forming into a frown as the words leave his soft lips. "Don't worry? My ex boyfriend was in a car crash, Billie." I pause, waiting for him to look up at me. He does not. "A car crash! He could have died." I go back to kissing Fletcher's head, not in a romantic way, just trying to give him any source of comfort, is it even working?

"Good." Billie mumbles under his breath. I ignore him.

I don't know what Fletcher will say when he wakes up, if he wakes up at all. I don't know why I even bothered to come here. It all feels useless. I'm comforting a man who never cared about me, or even bothered to pay attention to me. 

But, I'm still here through all of that.

Billie stands up, throwing the magazine onto the seat of the metal chair. "Wanna grab lunch? We can come back later." He's already walking towards the door. He turns, leans against the frame, and takes a long look into my eyes before whispering "He's not worth your time."

He turns, walking through the door and down the long white hallway of the hospital, towards the exit he's been yearning for since before we set foot in this place. He isn't bothered. He doesn't have an ounce of concern for his brother. Even if Fletcher stabbed me, I'd still come here. I'd still care. And I'm not sure if thats a bad thing.

I take a step, ready to follow him, yet my body shudders as a voice behind me perks up.

"Stay."

I can't help the smile which creases my face. Fletcher is alive. Fletcher is okay. I'm okay if he's okay. I turn around to face him, and for the first time in years I love the sight of him. I'm giddy and excited as if I'm on a rollercoaster. I walk slowly over to him, his bruises shining under the florescent light. His hand is resting on the bed, I slip mine into it. He squeezes mine.

We stare into each others eyes. Eventually, both of us smile, we laugh, unable to share words.

"I love you." He tells me, tracing mini-circles on the back of my hand as Billie does. "I love you too." I respond, but I don't love him in the same way I love Billie. I love him in the way I love Fletcher. I love the good in him, as little as it is. 

We stay silent for a long time. But even with the lack of words, we still communicate. We feel the love we shared rebirth into something new. A different kind of love. I never thought I'd give Fletcher a second chance, and I won't. This is something different.

"I'm sorry." He breaks the silence. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, because he wants me to feel his words. I do, I don't tell him that. "I'm really fucking sorry. I know you don't think I'm being serious, I know you're stubborn like that." I breathe through my nose a little quicker, laughing without sound. He isn't insulting me to drag me down. "But I am." He continues "I'm sorry for every time I've hurt you." He squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry for the fights." He presses a kiss to the back of my palm. "I'm sorry for not giving you all you deserve." He pauses, long enough so the words sink in. "You'll always be my girl, Ari." He doesn't spit the nickname out. He keeps it rolling on his tongue, tasting the words. 

"I'd trade everything of mine for you to live comfortably." He squeezes my hand, "I'd give up my life for yours." He's never been this genuine before. I wonder what has changed, was it the near death experience which made him think? Was this regret built up?

"I imagined us having kids. Well, a kid." He smiles up at me, reminiscing on a memory which is completely fabricated. "I know you only want one. What did you say to me..." he thinks, then clicks his fingers and grins as he remembers "You said they're 'too much work' and 'two is bad luck' whatever that means." I grin at the memory, we we're watching a movie and we started talking about kids. I said that to him, and he laughed. He told me he wanted as many kids as possible, so he could have his own mini-army. 

"I can't have you back, I know that but..." His voice pulls me from the memory. It was one of the good ones we shared. He squeezes my hand again, "Just know, I'm sorry, okay? I'll always love you, Aurora. I don't know why the fuck I treated you the way I did, but just know I'm sorry."

He can't seem to form anymore words, I nod, silently telling him I acknowledge his apology. I don't forgive him, and I know he doesn't expect me to. But I will, eventually. One day, I can put my relationship with him in the past. It will just be a bad memory.

People change, people grow. You don't have to forgive anyone, but you can move on respectfully. Fletcher and I should have never been a couple, that was obvious from the start. We're too different. I'm not the girl he deserves, he's not the man I deserve. I'm giving him the room to grow. I'm giving him the space to change. I know the next girl he's with will not face the abuse I did. He's learned from our relationship, and so have I. 

I hope he can find someone. A girl he can treat right. I know he will treat her right. He treated me right sometimes, and I love those moments between us. Those moments showed me he isn't a bad person, and he can change.