Scarlett Mila Marino

Back home the silence unbearable. It stretches between us, thick and heavy. I don't speak, I can't. Every word feels stuck in my throat.
I can't feel anything, not the grief, not the anger, not the sorrow. Just nothing...

At some point I hear Rowan say my name softly, his voice low and full of concern.
I ignore his questions. "Where's Asuka?" I the only thing I ask.

"The guys are helping her, don't worry about her now..." he says.

Rowan leads me to the bathroom. He takes my clothes off, one by one. All of them stained with blood.

The sound of running water fills the space. I get in the shower, sitting on the floor. My knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around them tightly.
Rowan is standing beside me, just outside the shower. He's gentle as he washes me.

The water runs over me, warm and soothing. It hits my skin, mixing with the blood that's still cracked on my body. The stains of what I've done, and what I couldn't prevent.

Rowan's hands move slowly, carefully, as he begins rubbing the blood off my skin. He just...does what needs to be done.

The cloth he uses moves over my arms, shoulders, across my back. I don't flinch. I don't react. Just, sit there.
Staring at the water as it turns from clear to red, from red to clear again.

He doesn't rush, doesn't ask questions, doesn't demand anything from me. He just takes care of me. The way he always does.

Rowan finishes washing me, and for a moment he just stayed there. I don't meet his eyes. I don't know how to explain the void inside me, the hollow ache that feels endless.

Eventually, Rowan moves again, his hand lifting a brush of strand hair from my face. Then he helps me stand. Wrapping a towel around me, drying my skin with the same gentleness.

I pull away from Rowan the moment we get out, and I get dressed. I don't want anyone right now. Not like this.

"I...I need to be alone." I mumble. My voice a little too harsh. I do t look back at him as I grab the blanket from the edge of the bed, throwing it over myself as I climb into it. I'm mad at myself, mad at everything I couldn't do.
And I don't know how to deal with it.

I want to be alone. I want to scream, or cry, or maybe just collapse into nothing, and I can't do that with him in here. "Go." I snap, turning my back to him.

"If you think I'm leaving you're fucking stupid, Mila." He says then moves closer to the bed.

"Rowan." I warn. "Just go. I need to be alone."

"Not happening, sweetheart." He says stepping closer, then into bed with me.

I pull the blanket tighter around me. My back is turned to him, my knees pulled up to my chest.

I can feel the warmth of his of his body next to mine. But he doesn't touch me, not sure if I'll be mad.

I stare at the wall, my emotions still a storm inside me, and for a long moment we just lie in silence. I feel horrible for almost yelling at him. For pushing him away when all he's done is to help me. It's not his fault.

I reach behind me, my hand fumbling slightly before it finds his. His fingers are warm and solid. I give them a small tug, pulling it around me, pulling him closer.
Rowan doesn't hesitate. The moment I pull him in, he wraps himself around me. His arm slipping over my waist, his chest pressing gently against my back.

I close my eyes, the tears coming almost instantly. I don't sob, don't make a sound, but the tears keep falling. Rowan must feel it because his grip on me tightens. I feel him press his face into my neck.

"I wish I could take your pain away. I'd carry it for you, every last bit of it." He whispers, so raw. Then plants a kiss on my shoulder.

***

[4 days later]

I walk toward the park slowly, each step heavier than the last. The weight of everything that has happened still clings to me. It's been a few days since Anthony died, since I killed my father. Since everything changed.

Asuka texted me this morning, asking me to meet her here. The same park we always hang out in. Even as kids we would be here. We used to spend hours here, swinging on the old swings, telling each other stories, laughing until our stomachs hurt.

Now, the thought of being here without him, feels like ripping open a wound.

The swings creak softly in the wind, and I can see Asuka sitting on one of them. Gently swaying back and forth.

I walk up slowly, not sure what to say. Not sure on how to start a conversation like this. The swing next to her sways slightly in the breeze, like it's waiting for me.
I sit down beside her, wrapping my hands around the cold chains.

"He loved this place." Is the first thing she says.

"He always said these swings were like magic. Like, if you swung high enough, you could fly." She says.

I manage a small, sad smile. He really did say that, and made us fully believe it when we were kids.
"Yeah...he used to push us so hard, I thought we'd actually take off." I say making her laugh, but it's laced with pain.

"He always tried to jump off at the highest point. Remember how he'd always eat dirt when he landed?" She says.

I laugh too now, though it feels strange. Broken. The memory of Anthony's ridiculous stunts, of him flying through the air, arms flailing, only to hit the ground in a pile of dust, brings a bittersweet warmth to my chest.
"Yeah, and then he'd pretend it didn't hurt," I say, shaking my head. "Even when he was limping for days."

"God, he was so stubborn. He'd get up, brush off the dirt, and be like, What? I'm fine. And we'd just stand there, rolling our eyes because we knew he was full of it." She adds.

I smile at the memory. But it fades quickly, replaced with emptiness. Anthony's not here to laugh with us. He's not here to joke about how he could still pull off that swing jump if he tried.

"We're really going to miss him." I say quietly.

Asuka stops swinging and looks at me, eyes red and swollen from days of crying. "I already do. So much." She whispers.

Anthony wouldn't want us to cry forever. He'd want us to remember the good times, the laughs, the way he made everything feel lighter.

"We should... we should come back here." I say, surprising myself with the suggestion. "Like we used to. Not just for him, but... for us. To remember. Together."

Asuka nods slowly, her eyes still filled with tears but softer now, like she's holding on to the same memory I am. "Yeah. I'd like that. Maybe... maybe it'll feel like he's still with us."

We fall into silence again, but it's different now, less heavy, more like a shared understanding. We're both grieving, both broken, but at least we have this. The swings, the park, the memories. And each other.

Asuka kicks her feet lightly, making the swing move a little, and I follow suit, letting the gentle motion take me back, just for a moment, to when things were simpler.
To when Anthony was here, making us laugh, daring us to swing higher, to jump with him. We'll never be those kids again, but part of him will always be here, in this place, with us.

Asuka sighs, then says with a small, bittersweet smile,
"You know... he would've called us both idiots for sitting here crying over him."

I laugh, and it feels real this time. "Yeah, he'd probably tell us to suck it up and go find some drama to talk about."

Asuka nods, wiping at her face again. "Typical Anthony. Always had something stupid to say."

We sit there swinging gently, laughing through the tears. And no matter how much it hurts, we'll keep coming back, together.

How are we feeling?