This week’s prompt from #gmgblog
Justice, that’s all I wanted, the crash just part of what I was doing now. Foolish. Of course it was, but Debs couldn’t escape. I was on the parapet, standing in the middle of the woodlands. If she were still here, of course I would be in danger.
Her whole life is spiralling – no longer does she have her job, her pseudonym. Barbara, two years as being another person. Did she always have the inclination for being a traitor, or had the loveless years caused her to look after number one.
Yet, she abandoned the one link to family, by allowing Bill to take the blame.
Would she reinvent herself? Take another name, I’m not sure.
I don’t have to close my eyes, I’m at home in the dark. The woodlands, at this time of night, full of sounds I am not sure of. I would expect to hear owls, yet it is silent. The stars must be out, as there is a chill, which settles right through to my bones.
‘Did you ever feel guilty, about what happened to Joe?’ I ask, not even sure why. ‘You are running, looking after number one, but then you were all for escaping, somewhere warm, with the proceeds of other people’s suffering.’
A crack of a twig, and I turn around. ‘I can hear you, even if I cannot see you. It’s just us now. The stupid thing is, I trusted you. You were the last person I would have suspected. Was it like that with Joe?’
Another snap, as something rustles, moving through the trees.
‘Joe, he was a nice guy, he liked me, thought I would change.’
‘Scott, don’t you feel guilty for any of them?’
The sound of her voice, close now. I imagine her standing a few feet away from me, deciding on what she should do. Silencing me. What good would it do now?
‘What you don’t seem to understand, Sarah, you’ve had a good life. Parents, who love you, friends. Richard, even my brother Bill, they never understood what it was to have nothing. I’ve had to look after myself since I was old enough to talk.’
‘it isn’t all about you, I was thirteen when Joe killed himself. I kept his secret, about drugs, this whole mess. Richard, he definitely had a silver spoon. You, your life was crap. We all are floating on a river, and paddling furiously underneath.’
‘Sarah . . . ‘ Mike whispers and I know she has gone.