Chapter 34
By Olivia Scott-Berry / Spinebreakers Crew
I stayed on at Finn’s hut for several months more, cleaning up after the storm. The remnants from my friendship, from a lie, were everywhere, littering the house with memories which stung painfully everytime I discovered a new, excruciatingly reminiscent article. A sea shell here, a history book there, everytime I tried to put the falsehood of our relationship to the back of my mind, it clawed its way back, all too painfully, fresh torment for me.
Finn constantly eluded me, every attempt I made to understand her, unpick her inner workings returned nothing, she mercilessly kept from me anything I could use to make my pain lesser.
I walked into town, exchanged the fruit of my labours after struggling out to the crab traps for a little food, talked to the townspeople, but it was all done with a hollow heart, I had no interest in them, who was home sick, who was scandalously aloof- every waking moment I thought of Finn.
Several years later, with a gruesome kind of irony, I walked round an aisle, straight into the path of a dark-haired, pallid girl. I carried on walking, still thinking about the half term holidays spent around the fire with Finn. Then something tugged at my mind, something unbidden and unknown. I whirled round. It was her. I remember calling out hello to her. I remember her coppery cat’s eyes falling on me. I remember the exact curve of her mouth, the slight twitch of her nose as she returned my greeting. And I remember the blank look that plainly betrayed her- she didn’t know who I was.
Oh yes, I remember it clearly, as I sit here now, an old man, looking back on the follies of his life. I remember the moment that my heart broke. Clean in two.