I took off my necklace and set it on the bedside table. After an entire day of crying I was utterly exhausted. My ribs and shoulder were throbbing hard, and I hadn't cleaned the wounds and dressed them up yet. It was around four in the afternoon, and Michael had called me almost a hundred times, but I didn't answer the phone. They didn't know, and I didn't know if I could handle them knowing.
Gran's dead. Gran's gone. Gran's never coming back again. She's gone. The thoughts wouldn't leave my head. It was so damn hard to accept the fact that I was never going to see her face again. That gut-wrenching feeling knotted my chest - it was a mixture of pain, guilt, hopelessness, and seething anger. And although the latter was comparatively less prominent, it still seemed to burn a hole in my lungs. It was that Dunaway, that wretch of a man, that had ruined my life. Whatever that was good in my life was taken away by him.
By him, and the key.
Ever since my Gran was kidnapped, I had developed a loathing towards that necklace, a cross to bear for my family that had been passed down to me and I had willingly allowed it. It was the source of all my misfortune - the reason why my family and I had been targeted for so long.
Our family heirloom, our legacy, our sworn duty, our responsibility that Mr. Hardinge had given us...
...was nothing other than our pain, our scourge, our self-imposed curse...
...our destruction.
With this newfound idea, I jumped out of bed, and immediately regretted it after the sudden head rush that made me tumble back. I groaned and slowly got up again, walking with one hand on a wall to support me, and the other checking drawers and shelves, looking for what I needed.
When I found it, I sat down at the table, took the pen out and wrote at the back of it-
'To, Her Majesty, the Queen
Buckingham Palace
London SW1A 1AA'.
The sound of the telephone ringing for the thousandth time that day woke me up. I realized that I was sleeping with my head on the table, surrounded by the scatters of paper filled with rough drafts and dirty handwriting. I stood up and slumped to the telephone, picking up the receiver reluctantly to answer. "Hello?"
"Evangeline!" A voice said, relief apparent in it. "Finally! Why haven't you been answering?"
I closed my eyes. I had been afraid of this moment. I had to answer.
"Hello? Eve? Can you hear me? Don't you dare ignore me again, Eve!"
"You were right, Mike." I said quietly.
His frantic questioning stopped abruptly. "About?"
"About Gran."
The silence that followed for a while was deafening. I had to look back that the screen to see if we were still connected. "What are you saying, Eve?" The fear in his voice was horrible to hear.
All my self control broke when my voice finally cracked. "She's dead, Michael."
I hung up as the tears overflowed again.
Not again, thought a voice in my head before the slideshow of memories accompanied with the music of sheer pain and guilt replayed in my mind.
It had been three days since I sent the letter - and three days since I let anyone into the house. Mike gave up on calling me, and it seemed like he advised the others against that too since no one did either. I was barely hanging on now.
The only thing that was actually getting me through was the determination I had found in Gran's eyes. She hadn't lost hope. And she didn't want me to lose hope either. They were going to get through this. In the very end, they would be the winners. She was sure of it. I just had to believe her. I had to be strong.
So, a couple of days before school started, I found myself walking down the streets of Hampstead Village to get some fresh air, no destination really in mind, just an urge to get out of the house. I observed the others who were spending their day outside as well - a young couple walking hand in hand, a father with his young daughter, a mother gazing fondly at her twins in the stroller, and two old men sitting on a bench, laughing. And even though the sight of the calmness and happiness in their lives did get me down a little, it made me smile a little too.
A sad smile. Of hope.
Which was immediately diminished when I heard a voice call me.
"Eve!"
I turned around to face my best friend again. The blonde hair that had grown back quickly ruffled slightly in the wind. If it weren't for the worried look adorning his features, he actually looked rather good-looking.
"Hi," I said. My voice sounded sore after all the crying. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to meet you." He said. A blush spread on my cheeks for no reason.
What's with you?, I thought. It's just Mike!
"I - I wanted to get some fresh air. Would you like to join me?"
His brows furrowed and he took a step forward. "How are you, Eve? Really? You haven't talked to anyone in so long -"
"- and I have a good reason to not do so." I finished. Please. Please don't bring it up.
"Do you?" He asked. "Or do you just want to avoid the topic?"
"I see you're not interested. No worries. I'll go myself. See you." I began to turn around, but he grabbed my arm. I was about to retort when his tone changed to something more abrupt.
"Where's your necklace?"
Fear froze my limbs. Oh, no.
"I - what?"
"Where is the necklace, Evangeline?" His voice was dangerously low, a stark difference from just a few seconds ago.
"I tucked it in my shirt?" Ugh. Even my excuse was a question.
"It's at home, right?" He asked. "It's safe, right?"
I gulped. I had no answer to that question yet. I didn't know whether Her Highness had gotten it or not.
Seeing that I didn't have an answer, Mike's grip on my arm tightened. "Where is the necklace, Evangeline?"
I saw the shock and suppressed anger in the green tint of his eyes, and it sent painful reminder down my spine of the green tint of my Gran's eyes. A sudden confidence emerged in me, and I leveled his gaze as I said, "I will not tell you."
Silence followed, both of us glaring at each other.
"What the hell are you doing?" Michael suddenly seethed. "Do you have any idea how important that it?! It belongs to the Queen, Eve! The Queen! Of all of Great Britain and fifteen Commonwealth countries! Do you have any idea what danger you're putting yourself in?"
"It doesn't matter anymore, Michael." I said plainly. "I doubt there is any other way I could be hurt. And yes, I did do the selfish thing this time. And I don't care."
With that statement, I pulled my hand out of his grasp and walked away, leaving a stunned Michael behind.
I didn't know where I landed up in. I had just been walking. To nowhere. I just wanted to get away from him. I had taken a risk. But I knew I did the right thing by sending the key back to the Queen. I was a broken person now. Why could Mike not understand that I was done with dealing with the responsibility?
I would still be a part of Ministerio Iustitia. I would still go on missions to expose Dunaway's part in the Iran-Iraq wars. Mr. I had told me on several occasions that it was now up to the police to find him, but I doubted they were going to help. There wouldn't be the need for a ministry of justice if the police took care of it all.
It was getting dark, and I was walking down an abandoned road with a few shops and stores around me, all serving their last customers of the day. Normally, I would be a little wary of places like these, but there was too much on my mind to care about dark places.
Mike was shocked - no, he was furious. In all honesty, I couldn't blame him, but he needed to understand that he couldn't blame me either. And I knew that even Her Majesty wouldn't say anything. I was too weak to be responsible for something like this - both mentally and physically.
Mr. I and Delilah would be furious too - specifically Delilah. She had been very proud to be related (albeit indirectly) to the family that bore such a huge responsibility. She would be absolutely crushed that I hadn't given it to her, especially after the strange bond had formed between us that night in the car. It wasn't love or care, but a renewal of a sort of kinship that we shared. And I knew she wouldn't forgive me after breaking that too.
But if Michael didn't understand, I'd be disappointed. He knew me the best, and he was the only one could ever predict what I would do. I just hoped he would forgive me if I disappointed him.
It was during this debate that I heard a noise to my right. I immediately stopped and surveyed my surroundings. I was a few yards away from the range of stores I was walking near and was currently in a barren area, with dirt and slight moss around me, and a few bushes and shrubs farther out. I looked to where I heard the noise, but there was no one there. The stores that were the nearest to me were already closed, and not a single soul was present. I wanted to pass it off as a figment of my imagination, but my instincts told me I needed to be on guard. I started walking back the way I came, my hand reaching for me gun which I had the good sense to have with me. My steps were quick and light, yet casual and not noticeable. My heart rate increased again and I walked even faster to finally get back onto the street from which I came so I could breathe normally.
Unfortunately, it was obvious the whichever higher beings were up there absolutely hated me.
At least, that's what my last thought was when the kerchief blocked my nasal passages and a slightly sweet smell made me lose conscious.