Pamela
My first thought was to rush towards him, but I stopped in my tracks. What if he turned the gun to me? Eric was usually cool-headed; however, there was no telling what he could do now.
Raising my arms to appear less threatening, I crept towards him.
"It's okay. Everything will be fine," my voice came out shaky, barely a whisper from the now raging storm. "It's me, Pamela McKenney."
I added the last part because of how odd the situation was. What was the chance of meeting him in Dublin, let alone a park? Incredibly slim. Our families both lived in the States. I'd relocated for study and he…. Perhaps he was here for business. However, that couldn't explain why he had a gun, about to do the unspeakable.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, some feet away from him.
He stared at me. Or didn't. I couldn't tell because of the way the rain plastered his hair across his face. He looked quite different from the last time I saw him with longer hair and a beard.
All of a sudden, my blood ran cold. He pointed the gun at me, a finger around the trigger.
"And who the bloody hell do you think you are?" His words were slurry and his breath oozed of alcohol.
"You..you shouldn't be out here. It's raining."
He chuckled, mumbling incoherently and turning around to head to God knows where.
With the rain pouring in torrents, I followed him at a distance. Despite my sense of urgency, I was careful not to make heavy steps or even breathe loudly. Anything that would trigger him.
My eyes remained square on the gun, closer and closer till I was just a reach away from it. Then, he stumbled.
I rushed to steady him, not knowing he weighed several pounds more than me. When I did realise, it was already late. I fell with him, landing flat on his chest.
It took me a while to register what happened. The hard chest underneath me felt foreign. Looking into his eyes, the teenage-hood feelings I'd nursed for him tried to surface. Could I help it though?
Shaking off the nasty thoughts and heaving up, I went in search of someone to help me take him to my car.
About five minutes later, I headed home with him in the backseat. The silence surrounding me was deafening. Multiple questions raced through my mind, most of which about Eric being in such a state. Intoxicated and suicidal. The Eric I knew was responsible. He had a lot going for him. A good family, a successful business and my sister, Kayla. What could possibly be the problem?
I couldn't resist looking at him through the rearview mirror. He was fast asleep now. I looked away, and back again. Those weird feelings wouldn't let me be.
Behave, Pamela! You can't possibly stoop so low by crushing on your soon to be in-law. For god's sake, you just suffered a break up.
When I pulled in front of my condo, the concierge helped me take Eric to my apartment, easing him onto the couch.
Dropping my keys on the table, I reached to take off his clothes, but hesitated. Knowing he'd likely catch a cold if I left him the way he was, I kicked away my fears and went ahead to help him.
Standing in front of him, I slid the coat off one arm, going on for the other when he mumbled:
"You're back. Don't pull that scary stunt again. Never. I love you."
My body went rigid. Just my eyes moved as they soaked up all of his features. His shiny dark hair. His eyes remained shut while his lips were partly open. It was the typical image of a drunk. However, those words rang true. There was only one person that mattered that much to him.
Kayla.
I stripped him of his wet clothes, sparing only his boxers and draped a robe over him. Sure that he was safe, I turned on the heater and headed out to get his car.
***
Early the next morning, I made a warm breakfast for Eric because of his exposure to the cold. There was no telling what his reaction would be. After all, his behaviour yesterday was unusual.
Setting the chopped vegetables aside, I began flipping the sizzling beacons over when someone suddenly hooked his arm around my neck.
When I tried shouting, a gun got pressed against my head.
"Shout and I'll shoot," he chillingly said.
He dragged me to the other end of the kitchen, and spun me around to face him. His brows jumped in surprise.
"What the bloody hell."
"Good morning," I sheepishly said, trying to stifle the stupid thoughts in my mind. "You, uhm…I found you yesterday, wandering and I thought uhm…"
I didn't know why I didn't just tell him the full story. It wasn't like I'd done anything remotely wrong.
He narrowed his gaze at me, then directed it to his bare chest. Shit.
"Nothing happened, I promise. You were so wasted yesterday and I—"
He dashed towards the living room. I followed him and watched as he wore his now dry clothes and grabbed his keys.
"How's Kayla?" I asked.
His body stiffened for a moment. I could swear he clenched his jaw.
"Is everything alright?" He didn't answer, instead he flew out of the door like a lunatic, causing me to chase after him.
I had barely made it out of the door when my phone beeped with a message. I stopped dead in my tracks as four words stared at me.
Your sister is dead.