Chapter Thirteen

I do not talk throughout dinner. The others glance at my impassive face as I slide into a spot and help myself to fish and chips. I keep my head down, ignoring Poppy’s concerned stare. I shovel the battered fish into my mouth, ignoring the burns it leaves on my tongue. For once, I do not swathe the chips in sauce.

“Are you ok?” Eddie asks me once my knife and fork clatter onto the table. He reaches for my hand and begins massaging it, attempting to soothe me.

“I’m fine.” I say too quickly, snatching my hand away and reaching for a plate of syrup sponge. I attack the sickly sweet dessert, refusing to leave a single morsel of it on the plate. Ordinarily, I would savour the sweetness of it but, today, it tastes like ash.
Once I’ve finished abusing my pudding, I stand up, not checking to see whether or not anyone else is finished. They take the hint and stay seated, no doubt waiting until I’ve left before they discuss what might be wrong with me.

“Elizabeth!” A voice shouts as I begin to make my way along the path and down to the stables. I whip around, my body on red alert, waiting to be attacked. I sigh inwardly as I see Charles striding across the green grass towards me.

“Yes?”

“It’s about Matt…”
“Yes, I have to kill him, I know.”

“Yes, you do,” He say frankly, “And, if I were you, I would do it quickly.”

“Quickly?”

“Tonight.”

“I can’t bear to do it tonight,” I tell him, “I will do it tomorrow.”

He rolls his eyes and saunters away, opening a door and slipping silently inside.

I flop onto the grass. For the first time in my life, I decide that, the stables will not solve this problem for me. I alone can solve this. I will not be a coward; I shall have to do it. I greet this task as ominously as I should greet my own death although, I can’t help but pity Matt because, in death, he will be far freer than I could ever be. I wish that our roles were reversed and that he was the one killing me, not the other way around. You see, I have absolutely nothing to lose; I love no one and no one loves me. I will never belong anywhere, no matter how far I walk. I will never find love like the love which Matt has for Scarlett’; that is the kind of love which only exists in the fables my mother used to tell us by the fireside on those bleak winters nights all those many many years ago. I might dream of love but, I will never truly know it. Indeed, should someone ever love me, I should pity the poor fool for he should know that, I could never truly love him back. You see, I cannot love. Everything I have ever loved has been taken away from me and, to tell the truth, I doubt that I am strong enough to be able to withstand the loss of a lover. I envy Matt and Scarlett but I do not want to be them, not just because they only have a couple of hours left in one another’s arms.

I square my shoulders as I stand up and march back through the doors of the cottage. I will do this although I take little pleasure from the task. There is no avoiding it but first, I must find Matt and tell him that it is time to say farewell.

I walk into the common room, ignoring Eddie, who is beckoning frantically from the corner, and walk straight up to Matt who is sitting alone, holding a glass and staring into the roaring depths of the frantic fire.

“Matt?” I say, tapping him on the shoulder, “Can I have a word?”

Thankfully, Scarlett is arguing loudly with Isla so no one notices the fact that Matt and I have both slipped out of the packed room. I lead Matt up to the tower and, judging by the way he doesn’t even question me, he knows what must happen.

We stand upon the windy tower, neither of us daring to make a move. After a while, Matt slumps to the floor.

“I know, Elizabeth.” He says, gazing at the weathered stones.

“Know what?” I say, barely even attempting to lie.

“You have to kill me.” He says simply as though he has long been reconciled with this unhappy fact.

“How do you know?”

The corner of his lips curls up in amusement, “You’re not the only one who can evesdrop, Elizabeth.” He says.

“You can write a note.” I say, trying to keep my voice cold and neutral, the way a killer should.

“I already have.” He says, producing a wrinkled note from his pocket. “Read it when I’m gone.”

He places the note under a large stone before he stands up, the wind making his clothes flap like the wings of a bird.

“I am ready to die.” He says to the wind, “ I don’t blame you, Elizabeth.”

And, before I can fully comprehend what is happening, he steps up onto the battlements and dives off the side, plummeting to the hard, unforgiving ground. There is a brief moment before his body crumples on the grass when he looks so free and peaceful that, in truth, I long to be him. I long to dive like a swallow in the sky but, before I can die, I must do my duty.

I cannot hear the thud which must have occurred and I do not look over the side for fear that I might leap over the edge to be as free as he is. Instead, I walk over to the note which is weighted down by the stone and begin to read it, taking care not to allow the fragile paper to be blown away by the harsh wind.

I have to confess that, I did not know how to start this letter. After many attempts, I simply gave up and put my pen to paper and allowed my thoughts and feelings to flow across the page in what I know shall be my last letter. This is, in truth, my only chance to say goodbye and, well, I don’t know where to start.

I beg you all not to pity me as I am free from all the evil worldly constraints. I leave this sickening world for a world where, hopefully, everything shall be as it ought to be. I tell you not to pity the dead but to pity those who are left behind. I confess that, selfish as it may seem, I regret not being able to take each and every single one of you with me to this covenant land but then again, you have to be cruel to be kind.

As I turn to face death, I realise that, there is nothing to fear from death; you see, death is but an old friend who we all have to visit at the end of a long day. Some of us choose to visit him a little earlier in the day, perhaps to share our morning coffee together whereas, some are dragged from their beds at an ungodly hour and are told to face him without being able to say goodbye to their loved ones. At least, I have the luxury of going by choice rather than by brute force. The thing is that, no matter when we visit death, it is important to remember that, he is merely an old friend and that, in the end, we have nothing to fear from our oldest and dearest friend.

The odd thing about death is that, we brush past him every day and yet, strangely enough, he does not choose to take us instead taking another. However, today, it is my turn to go to him and embrace him as the long-lost friend that he is.

Scarlett. How am I supposed to say goodbye to the love of my life? You were the only thing which I ever loved and, as I soar through the cold evening air, it is your face that I see in my turbulent mind. I ask you to remember me when I was at my best; when I was laughing and happy, not in my darkest moments. However, above all, I urge you not to dwell upon me. You are strong, Scarlett and I know that you will manage to live without me. Just know that, I have loved you until the end.

Eddie. You have always been my best friend. I now regret all of those times when I didn’t tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I urge you to be happy and, above all, I urge you not to blame yourself for what I have done.

Poppy. You have been like the sister which I never had. In death, I shall miss your laugh, your smile and the way in which you never failed to make me laugh and smile no matter how dire the situation seemed.

Jack. I regret that now I must write my final goodbye. Whilst Poppy was like a sister, you were like a brother so, today, I seem to be saying goodbye to my family.

Pete. I tell you this as an older brother; if you ever hurt Poppy, you must know that, I will never forgive you even though I am dead.

Elizabeth. You are my newest friend and yet it seems as though you have been a part of our group forever.

I know that, these farewells are inadequate but, for once in my life, I can barely find the words to put down on the page. It is as though my pen has been broken and I am unable to find another one. Words do not flow as they used to. I suppose that, when I go to greet my maker, I shall have no further need for words. The queer thing is that, although I am merely saying goodbye, I seem to be unable to find any adequate words for my final farewell. In truth, I have done a poor job at writing my feelings upon a page so that you may understand why I have done what I have done.

I suppose that, one of the reasons why I have chosen to end it this way is because of the lies. My life seems to be filled with lies. Indeed, in the past few weeks, I seem to be unable to do anything but lie. It is as though my life is an endless lie and I am unable to move for the suffocation of my fables.

So, the time has come for me to say farewell. However, I depart from this life in the full knowledge that we will meet again so, let us not say farewell but, until we meet again.

Until we meet again,

Matt

I place the letter back on the ground and weight it down with the stone. I slip away as silently as any assassin, merging with the shadows which cover the hard stone walls. I know what my part in this life shall be now; I am the assassin, silent and deadly.

Author's Note

honest reviews please

Reviews

[HipsterPrincess17]

awe I cried when I read this very good story so far!