Wrong Choice

It’s Daya’s smile that haunts me most in this moment. My best friend’s radiance and joy existing only as a memory as I stand in this living nightmare. Blood is rushing through my ears as I look up at the man in front of me. His blue eyes are pleading with his hands outstretched. My heart continued racing as I stood face to face with James, the man I had unknowingly fallen in love with—the man who had shattered my world. Anger and confusion swirled within me, but I knew I needed answers.

"You!" I spat; my voice laced with bitterness. "How could you? How could you do such a thing?"

James looked at me, his eyes haunted, but also filled with a strange mix of remorse and desperation. Not that I could even trust the look on his face any more than I could forget the blood on his hands. "Emily, I never meant for any of this to happen. It was an accident—an impulsive act I never should have committed."

"An accident?" I scoffed, disbelief coloring my tone. "You took someone's life, James! How can you call that an accident?"

He took a step closer, his voice trembling with emotion. "I know it's unforgivable, Emily. I can't change what I've done, but I want you to understand that I never wanted any of this. Daya’s death haunts me every single day, and it tears me apart." I instinctively step back, too aware of how little space is between us.

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mixture of anger and sorrow flooding through me. "You expect me to feel sorry for you? To forgive you?"

James reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from my trembling cheek. "No, Emily, I don't expect forgiveness. I only want you to understand that the person you fell in love with—the person you thought you knew—was clouded by darkness. I never intended for our connection to happen."

Our connection, the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. The way I still want to lean into his frame and sob at the pain he’s caused. Still, as his skin brushed mine, another thought came into focus. He’s dangerous, a killer, and there’s only one exit in this room. He pulls my gaze from the door and back to facing him. Whether or not he noticed I was looking at the door causes a pit to form in my stomach.

I pulled away from his touch, trying to compose myself without giving away my desire for escape. "How could I have been so blind? I trusted you, James. I let myself fall for you, not knowing what you had done."

"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered, anguish etched in every word. Is that how he wove his way into her life too? Is he master of words and manipulation. "When I saw the way you cared for Daya, the way you loved her unconditionally, I couldn't help but be drawn to that light. I was consumed by guilt, knowing what I had taken away from someone else."

I want to wince at his words, the very way he says her name. The devastation of her death comes flooding back into my mind. The pictures the detective had to show me in case there may have been anything of use I could have offered to catch the person who had done those things to her. The bruising around her neck was an image that was forever seared into my mind. It was brutal, and now he talks about it like it was just a momentary lapse. What could she have done to deserve it… how could I not have seen it was him?

James interrupts the thought as he grabs my wrist. Tight. Too tight. I step back once more only to find that my back is literally against a wall. His eyes were piercing, “Em, please just think about us, how we found each other in the darkness.”

“A darkness you created.” I quip.

He lets out as exasperated sigh and roughly runs his hand through his hair, “I loved her too. It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. And you,” his gaze is intense, “You were all I had, and I was all you had.”

My stomach turned as I remembered how he held me at her funeral. The guilt I had felt as I started to develop feelings for him in the first place. It always felt wrong, falling for my dead friends boyfriend, but the connection just felt too strong. Even now, as he grips my wrist, there’s a sort of electricity in the air. It’s different though, heavier and fearful as I realize I have no idea what James is capable of.

I shake my head, pulling my hand away, a mix of frustration and sadness weighing heavily upon me. "But that doesn't excuse what you did, James. Nothing can bring back the life you stole."

His shoulders slump, and he nods in resignation. "You're right. I have to face the consequences of my actions, and I will. I can only hope that someday, somehow, I can find a way to make amends." Silence enveloped us for a moment, the weight of our shattered connection hanging heavy in the air. Part of me wanted to run away, to forget everything and bury the pain deep within. But another part of me longed for closure—for justice. I almost exhale as he starts to walk away, only for the breath to catch in my throat when I realize he’s positioned himself between me and the exit, despite how defeated he seemed only a moment ago.

“But I still love you, Emily. I can’t just let you go. I can’t just give up on us.”  

I feel my pulse quicken as the air in my lungs seems to go cold, but I can’t let him see my panic.

“So what now?” I keep my eyes on his as I inch back ever so slightly.

To my dismay he steps closer, reaching out and wrapping one arm around my waist before I even have time to gasp. “What happens next really depends on you, Em.”

I meet his eyes, a fire igniting in my stomach, “Is that what you said to Daya before you strangled her?” I practically spit the words, feeling brave. If I can keep him distracted, or make him upset, maybe there’s a chance of him making a mistake leaving an opening for me to run.

“I don’t want to hurt you; I want you to understand.” His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me into him even further. He still smells like cinnamon, something I used to find comforting and even intoxicating at times. I feel my cheeks flush as the spark of love I had rears in the wake of everything that’s happening. I wish I could rip the feeling from my chest and burn it in front of James.

“What could there possibly be for me to understand?” I say, as I feel around on the counter beside us for anything I can use. My fingers curl around a wooden pepper shaker. The heft of it might just be enough to stun him if I strike at just the right time.

“Daya, she didn’t get it, she pushed me away like you are now. It didn’t have to end the way it did, that was her choice.” The blood in my veins turns to ice as I realize that Daya wasn’t his first. He’s done this before, and I’m now in the same position my best friend was once in.

I soften my gaze, pushing down every ounce of disgust and fear. I reach out up with my unoccupied hand and try my best not to tremble as I cup his cheek, brushing the stubble along his jaw. “Okay,” I say gently, slowly raising the pepper shaker out of sight, “I understand. You didn’t want to lose her. You don’t want to lose me. And you won’t.” I smile, and he lets out a soft sigh, his eyelids fluttering as he leans into my palm. Just as he relaxes into my hand, I bring my other arm down as hard as I can.

I yelp as he twist my wrist with lightning speed, whimpering as the makeshift weapon falls to the floor. His eyes are open and staring fiercely into mine once more. “Wrong choice.”