Hooker(97)

My heart breaks for Rupert, but even more so for Sasha. She was still young and had her whole life ahead of her before it was so cruelly and viciously taken away. Her death seems so pointless. It was just another example of how calculating, selfish and uncaring M really is.

When we get home, Rupert locks himself in his bedroom for two whole days. I desperately want to go to him, but Brock insists that I leave him be. I leave trays of food outside the door, but none of it is touched.

By day three, I can’t stand it any longer; I’m ready to break down the door. But he emerges showered and dressed, without me even having to go to him. It’s a relief.

The first thing he does is wrap me in his arms. ‘Thank you for finding me the answers I needed,’ he says as he squeezes me tight. I can’t respond. That day will haunt me forever. Even though the night Sasha was killed has come full circle, it doesn’t seem to lessen the guilt I feel about that night. I was just a young girl, but I wish I’d done more. Logically I know that was an impossibility. It probably only would’ve served to get me killed as well.

I help Rupert with all the funeral arrangements. It’s hard for him, I can tell, but he keeps himself together. Understandably, he wants to make it special for his daughter. He chooses a white casket and a beautiful arrangement of pink tulips to adorn the coffin. Apparently they were Sasha’s favourite flowers. A few of her favourite songs growing up are chosen to be played at the service, including one he used to sing to her when she was a little girl. He also places an advertisement in the local paper where they once lived, in the hope that some of her friends will attend.

On the way home from the funeral parlour, Rupert and I stop by his apartment to collect a black suit, and he emerges from his bedroom with a large framed picture of Sasha to place in the church on the day of the service. I know he’ll never get over the loss of his daughter, but I’m hoping once the funeral is over, he finds some peace.

When the day of the funeral rolls around, we’re all on edge. I’m dreading it. I’m worried for Rupert, and Brock—it was only a few weeks ago he laid his father to rest. I’m even concerned for myself. Sasha’s death has been playing on my mind for years, but finding her remains has brought the trauma and pain to the surface. I even had a nightmare about her. It was awful. I’d woken with a start, my body trembling and covered in perspiration. I was able to slip out of bed and pull myself together before Brock noticed I was missing. He doesn’t need to add my nightmares to his worries.

None of us eat breakfast before we leave, but Brock had managed to force a cup of coffee into Rupert and me. Brock’s been wonderful throughout this whole ordeal. Not only to me, but to Rupert as well. I’m sure staying in my apartment and having Rupert with us hasn’t been easy for him, but he hasn’t complained once. I’ll make it up to him once all this is over.

We follow the funeral car all the way to the church. The three of us are sitting in the back of the limousine; I’m in the middle. Brock’s fingers are tightly laced through mine, and my free hand is resting on Rupert’s leg. He hasn’t voiced it, but I know he’s grateful to have us both by his side. There’s an appreciative look on his face whenever we make eye contact.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask as we near the church.

‘As good as I can be,’ he replies, placing his hand over mine. I don’t think any of us were expecting a big turn out today, but when we pull up, there’s a large group waiting: easily fifty people, maybe more. Rupert immediately sits up straight, gazing out the window.

‘All these people have come to say goodbye to my baby,’ I hear him whisper, and a huge lump rises to my throat.

Once we’re out of the car, Brock and I stand back while Rupert heads towards the group standing near the entrance.

‘How are you holding up?’ Brock asks me as his arms slide around my waist, drawing me into him.

‘I’m okay,’ I lie. Truth is, my stomach is in knots. I’m dreading every aspect of today. Learning about Sasha from Rupert over the past week hasn’t helped. She seems so real to me; no longer just a face and a name.

When Brock tightens his embrace and places a soft kiss on the top of my head, I get the impression he doesn’t believe me. Having him here helps. He’s my rock. Spending my days with Rupert has been emotionally draining, but losing myself in Brock at night has been my salvation—my escape from the harsh realities of life. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

He’s so much more than simply the love of my life.