47

EMBER

Winston sniffles a few times before saying, "I can see the gears turning in your head, Ember. You're wondering about me?"

I don't even try to deny it, and nod instead.

"Life is choices," says Winston, grinning solemnly. "I'm here because I made mine. My son...Well, I haven't seen him in a long, long time. Every child..." His chin wobbles under his beard. "Every child deserves a good parent, Ember. But not every parent deserves his child. Life is just choices. I made mine."

There's no alcohol on his breath, no needle sticking out of his arm. He's not mean, not lazy or cruel. Life just...destroyed him.

"You don't deserve this," I whisper, shaking my head. "I'm...sorry. You don't deserve this."

But that's what he's saying; it's his fault he almost got beat by a group of disgusting, heartless men. It's not. Of course it's not.

Winston holds up a hand, shaking his head. He smiles, nothing but grace in the darkness. "Ember, I've lived many lives. I know my faults. My mistakes. There's nothing for you to be sorry for. There have been good parts. There still are. Like right now." He glances down to Charlie, resting a gentle hand on his head. "See Charlie? We made a friend tonight."

"I don't understand how you're doing this," I whisper, the words falling from my lips before I have a chance to stop them. "This life..." I look around the city. Unforgiving. Cold. Harmful and desolate. "It's too much."

Winston coughs, then looks up at me, another true smile on his lips. "I learned a long time ago that the world is two sides of a coin. One side holds the unspeakable things. The painful things. The dark things. I don't choose live on that side anymore."

"The other side?" I whisper, desperate for something to hang onto.

"Hope," he says. "I've lost everything except that, Ember. You can't lose hope. You can only let it go."

Tears fill my eyes now. And oh god, I want to believe him, but I just...How can I grasp hope without earning it? My hands—they're red. They're so red that it's painted my entire life red.

I open them on my lap, stiff and cold. I just see red.

"Hope has let me go, Winston," I whisper, finding it easier to talk to this stranger. "I think hope let me go."

He rests a palm on mine, his hand covered in a hole-y glove. I meet his eyes. We both cry now, and I begin wonder how I even got here. If this is even real.

"No, child," Winston says softly. "It is those who deem themselves unworthy, who hold the purest light in their hearts."

Winston begins to pack his things and grabs his vase. He stands—well, he tries, but I have to stand to help him. He smells sour, but I ignore it. Charlie jumps up into his arms like a spring.

"Where are you going?" I panic, scared for this frail old man and his dog.

Winston points across the way, down the street. "There's a shelter. Tamara works there. She saves me a bed." He pats my shoulder. "You go home where it's safe, yes?" He starts to walk away when he suddenly turns around and comes back. He picks the wilting rose from the empty vase and offers it to me. "For your kindness and your company, Ember. This has been a good night. A good one."

"I didn't really do anything," I stammer, shaking my head. Another few tears shake loose from my eyes and I swipe at them with my hands. "You don't have to give me your last flower, sir."

Winston insists, holding the rose between us.

I hastily fish the pocket-knife from my sweats and two twenty-dollar bills fall onto the pavement. They were supposed to be for more lessons at Skyfall since my pass only covered a few free ones, but I stopped going. Some days I can't even hold myself up. I pick the bills up from the ground.

"Here," I say, handing the money to Winston. I was going to give him the knife, but I reckon he already has one. And probably a better one, too.

"No," gasps Winston. "No, no. Too much, Ember. Too much. I can't take that."

"Yes you can," I tell him.

"No, Ember. No, it's too much."

I take his rose. "For the flower," I explain. "Supply in demand."

"The flower is a gift," says Winston.

I somehow manage to roll my eyes in all our despair. Charlie lays in his arms, so I reach over, lift his paw, and tuck the money underneath.

"For Charlie, then," I sigh.

Winston starts crying again and tries to give me the money back, but I don't let him.

When all is said and done, I watch the old man limp towards the streetlights with a wilting white rose between my fingertips. My gentle tears fall atop the petals, watering the flower with a small promise to wash away all the red painted on my skin.

A clap of thunder sounds in the distance before the clouds open up and begin to pour. I tilt my face up, pressing the rose to my chest. The drops plop on my skin, cold little things that sting.

Something shifts.

Then, I cry.

Heartbreak swells deep within my chest and breaks out through my mouth in sobs. My breaths shudder through me, ripping me apart.

I crack open like the skies.

It goes and goes and goes and eventually I fall to the wet pavement on my knees, crushing that flower to me like a port in a hurricane.

Greyson, I miss you.

I hyperventilate in the pouring rain, my face hot and swollen.

I'm so sorry.

My tears flow faster than my raging heartbeat as the thunder gets closer and closer.

I'm trying to do this without you.

For every gasp and hiccup, every tear and rain drop, I feel rebounded to this Earth like my tendons are reattaching to my bones, returning my strength, my self, back to me.

I've been alone for so long now. I don't want to be alone anymore, Grey.

I empty on these streets, choking on my inhales as my eyes sting and run dry. There's only so much I can bleed. I struggle to breathe, but manage to control myself enough to stand, rose in hand, and put one foot in front of the other in the rainstorm.

It's cold. I head for the person who makes me feel warm.

Vote!

A/N

I hope this felt like a turning point, because it was. Healing is anything but linear, anything but easy.

As always, thank you so much for reading.

Love Laurel ❤️