The Gambit (77 page)

I continued skimming, and it made me emotional reliving the hours it took to write this. It was emotional and painful. I went through everything from the beginning with Viktor, to when I decided to approach Owen at the coffee shop that fateful morning. Then, I quickly highlighted our journey, but made sure to pepper in the evidence throughout the story. I tried to finish it with something that would hit home and resonate with people.

Veronica Hall was behind the murder of Owen Marina. There are many other officials involved, which will soon come to light. As a country, we should never forget the sacrifice he made for us. Owen was a pawn on the chessboard, and the queen took him out of this world. He had the courage to fight until the end, for all of you. He went through the Confinement, just as I did, and just as you all did. That memory, that bond—it’s powerful. He knew that if he let Veronica win, we would all lose. None of us would be safe, and the process would begin again. We could have been put into a Confinement that never ends. No one wants that, and he didn’t either. It was an honor to assist him in his struggle and to be able to document the process. As you share this article with your loved ones, keep one thing in mind. Owen Marina died for us, and we shouldn’t let his life be in vain. We can’t let the people who did this win. We the people rule this country, not the governing body. Honor him, and make the decision to fight back against the people who did this to us. So, the real question is, are we going to sit back on the sidelines and watch as our country falls to pieces? Or, are we going to take action and become a part of history? The choice is ours.
11-02-2016
.

I titled it the Gambit, because that was what Viktor called him in the basement when he and Natasha kidnapped us.

‘Don’t you see what I am trying to say to you, Owen? All you are is a gambit to them! You are a fucking sacrifice! You are just a pawn and Veronica is the queen. If you go through with your plan, I promise you, they will win. Don’t be their gambit. Don’t give yourself up so easily.’

I could still see the vein in Viktor’s forehead pulse as he yelled at him. Sadly, he was right. Owen
was
their sacrifice.

I turned the first picture over. It was Owen, and he had a determined stare on his face. His hands were high in the air, and his knees were just barely bent as if he were about to start kneeling. His dyed, black hair was sweaty and disheveled. I brushed my finger across the photo, and emotions swam around my insides. It was such an intense picture, with the dozens of cops surrounding him with their automatic weapons. I almost thought if I stared long enough I would be able to see his chest heave up and down in breathing. Although, this photo was the moment before his death, I had never seen him look more
alive
. It was beautiful.

I picked up the other one and immediately giggled. Owen was staring back at me with a huge grin, holding an Asian woman by his side. She was grinning equally as wide, but her teeth weren’t quite as nice as his. I flipped it over on the back, and it looked like Grey had written on it with a pen.

Raleigh, North Carolina — 10-13-2016

The thirteenth. I pulled out my phone and flipped back through my calendar. That was the night before we met. I clutched the photo to my chest and wiped my eyes as tears began to form As much as it hurt, I would have to keep this photo for memory’s sake. A photo was a photo, though. It wasn’t the real thing.

I shuffled through more of the papers and realized that Grey had written some more on the back of one of the papers. I began reading.

Anyway, Rachel. I hope to see you again. Never forget how much he cared about you, all right? It still saddens me that he died despite the precautions me and Viktor took…

My forehead scrunched up at the word—
precautions?

What was he referring to? How come I hadn’t known about this?

Huh, interesting.

Enjoy France. Get some sun, and let time heal the wounds you have. I know you think they will never go away, but take it from someone who is dealing with the same thing you are right now, they will. Take care of yourself, Rachel.

Love, Grey. 2-15-2017

I put the letter down and wiped the tears out of the corners of my eyes. I knew Grey was right, but it was hard to accept right now. In my mind, it felt like time couldn’t heal all wounds. To me, nothing could get rid of the aching hole in my chest besides him. It would have helped if I had my mom here to console me, but she was gone, too. I felt like I had been dealt the shittiest cards at the table, and I hadn’t even a single chip to cash in.
We
won, but
I
lost.

My promise still haunted me to this day. I promised him everything would be all right.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,’

‘Why did you just say me? You will be fine, too. We are going to get you out of this mess. I promise.’

‘Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Rachel.’

He was right all along. I couldn’t keep my promise, and the fact that he wasn’t here made me feel even more morose. I could still hear the eerie tone in his voice as he said,
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’
It was like he knew. He knew all along he wouldn’t make it out alive, and that notion destroyed me inside. And now, it was all over, and I
was
okay. I broke my promise.

Chatter surrounded me, and there were people at the many tables nearby. All amidst conversation, except me. I sat alone with a cup of coffee, as I had for over two months now. I wondered if I would ever feel whole again. Sure, the memory of him was enough to keep me going, but part of me didn’t want to move on. I didn’t want to
let go
. How could I let go of someone I never got the chance to call mine?

I couldn’t. That was the answer. I still wanted Owen, but he was gone.

“
Mademoiselle,”
the waiter’s voice said beside me. “
Pour vous.”

He placed a vase full of red and purple roses on the table in front of me. I glanced back up at him confused.

“
Pour moi?
” I asked, almost breathless.

“
Oui,”
he said with a smile and walked away.

No, it can’t be. There is no way…

My breath was shallow as I stared at them, and they were so beautiful. My heart fluttered, and my mouth remained agape. There was a little white tag attached to the glass vase. I grabbed it and paused before opening it. I rubbed the stock paper just to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. I drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. I opened it.

Bonnie,

Today
, is one day.

— Clyde.

There was a rock in my throat as the tears began to flow. A tremor arose within me, and I struggled to compose myself in front of everyone. The words echoed in my mind as if I had just heard them yesterday.

“Don’t worry, Rachel. One day.”

“One day?”

“One day you’ll get flowers.”

Every ounce of my being felt a mix of emotions so extreme I couldn’t tell if I was crying out of sadness or joy. I gently rubbed one of the purple petals between my index finger and thumb. Owen’s voice resurfaced once more. This time, it was from the night in Miami.

“What is your favorite color?”

“Red,” he answered. “Yours?”

“Purple.”

Red and purple roses. He signed the card
Clyde
.

I choked and struggled to wipe my eyes to clear my blurred vision. I became overwhelmed with a sensation I couldn’t describe. It was as if all the pain I had kept bottled up since he died dissipated into thin air. It
had
to be him. How could he have known where I was going to be? I was smiling now, streaking the tears across my face as I wiped them. I let out a laugh, and the love I felt for Owen surged throughout my body. A gentle breeze blew past, and for a moment, I could have sworn I caught his scent in the air. This feeling was too strong to be anything but real, and I
felt
him. His presence was here. I could feel it. I sobbed harder at the thought of seeing him again, but my soul told me it wasn’t lying. I cleared the tears from my eyes and drew in one long, steadying inhale. I let it out and grinned as the feeling only grew stronger. He
was
here. He had to be. I wasn’t afraid anymore, and for the first time since the day he left me I didn’t feel
alone
. We would have our time together. This was just the beginning.

My heart was full of love, and there was only one thing left to do.

I looked up.

Allen Longstreet is a fiction author who resides in Hickory, North Carolina. Now at 22, he is attending college for a degree in creative writing, and has also been writing since he was a child. He has a preference in post-apocalyptic and dystopian. Allen has a strong interest in contemporary issues and problems society faces in this day and age. He plans on writing across a broad-spectrum of fiction, creating characters and stories we all can become attached to. Allen is an indie author and reviews are the backbone to an indie author’s career. If you have any comments or would like to leave a review of this book, please go on Amazon and Goodreads to leave your opinion.