The Choices We Make (Revenge)

Blame

A bang, so loud it left him breathless. A piercing scream, it almost split his eardrum. Breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, he woke up. Slowly he realized, it must've been him who screamed, because everything else was quiet around him; except the ticking of the alarm clock next to his bed. With trembling hands he grabbed the clock and let himself fall back on his bed, exhausted. It was 4am and not the first sleepless night. This has been going on for a week now. And every time the sound of a gunshot catapulted him back to reality. A reality he still wasn't able to process. The memory of August 8th, his wedding day, hung like the sword of Damocles above him. Seven long days and nights and still nothing. Emily Grayson, nee Thorne, his wife, had disappeared without a trace. He looked at the nightstand where the ring lay, which she had given him at the wedding ceremony and sworn him eternal love.

What a farce! Ruffling his sweaty hair, he sat up. His mother was right. Emily used me to take revenge on my family, he thought bitterly. And she had played the role of the beloved girlfriend, fiance and wife perfectly. Her acting skills were amazing. He had fallen for her tricks, and now he had to suffer for her sins. Oh, the irony!

Sighing, he stood up and grabbed a shirt that hung over a chair next to his bed. He needed something cool to get a clear head again. A beer would be perfect now, but he rejected this thought immediately. He did not fight so long and so hard against his alcohol addiction, just to slide back into old habits. He entered the kitchen and was surprised that he was not alone. His sister Charlotte was standing by the refrigerator, holding a carton of milk in her hands. Her facial expression changed when she noticed him.

"Daniel!" She put the carton down and went up to him. "You can't sleep either?"

He hated to see her pitying look. As if he were the victim, not the perpetrator. But nobody knew anything about his double life, yet. The nightmares were a clear indication that his subconscious blamed him for what happened on that day in August. As much as he tried to persuade himself that everything was Emily's fault, he had been the one who held the gun in his hands and pulled the trigger. He had murdered his own wife in cold blood!

"Daniel?"

He looked up, directly into the anxious eyes of his sister. "It's so hot," he uttered weakly. "I just wanted to get something to drink."

"You had one of those nightmares again?"

Astonished, he looked at his sister. She knew about it? But of course she knew it. If there was someone from the Grayson family who was close to him, it was Charlotte. She was probably the only one who always understood him. He remembered how she had come to him and told him about her pregnancy, not wanting to tell her mother or father; she had come to him, entrusted to him what tormented her. Sighing, he reached for a bottle of water and a glass. Maybe it was time to entrust to her, too.

"It's because of Emily, am I right?"

He nodded. "It's been a week and still no trace of her." He let the water run into the glass and took a sip. "The wedding dress was washed up, but it seems as if the ocean had swallowed her." While he said this sentence, he was aware that he wanted nothing more than Emily to be found. Even if it meant that he would probably be brought behind bars for attempted murder. But he would rather go to jail than to feel guilty for the rest of his life.

"The police should have brought Lydia to justice for what she had done to Emily!" Charlotte said furiously. "Instead, they gave her a reward!"

"What?" Confused, Daniel glanced at her. His thoughts had been about Emily again. When will it stop?

"Lydia Davis," Charlotte repeated. "Giving her money to keep her silence and allow her to leave the country was not right. She should have gone to jail!"