Leave Me Behind

Bradshaw walks away from me. For some reason, him not finishing me off triggers something deep inside me. It shouldn’t be hard for him to finish me. Everyone would understand.

I push myself up and press my bound palms into the dirt. “Why won’t you fucking kill me?! I’ve given you every reason. I’ve taken everything from you, Bradshaw. Everything!” I scream at him, tears streaming down my face and making his form blurry.

He stops and fists his hands at his sides. “You want me to kill you? You really want me to?” His voice grows louder with each word and he turns back to look at me. His eyes are rimmed with red and his features are contorted with misery.

“Please. Please. Bradshaw. Please just make it stop,” I beg him and let my head hang. He walks back to me and falls to his knees before me. His hands fall on my shoulders and he shakes me until I look up at him.

His blue eyes pierce through me.

I expect him to yell at me, but his voice is a whisper. “Who taught you to beg for death just because you were a device?” My eyes widen and my lips part. “Nell… I know it wasn’t personal… I know you were just going through the motions.” He hiccups and reels back his emotions, tears still forming. “So why would I punish you? You’re just the weapon fired, not the evil that wields it.”

A sob bubbles up in my throat and I try to swallow it.

“I destroy everything I touch. I’m… the last Riøt soldier.” I grab the hilt of his combat knife, slide it out of the sheath, and place it in his hand. “I’m tired of being the weapon. I’m tired of killing. I want to be free. Make me a good Riøt and kill me. Then, maybe, my sins will be absolved.” I shut my weary eyes and focus on his breaths.

His knife grazes the side of my cheek and beckons me to look at him.

“Would you kill me? If I took Jenkins from you? Tell me you would and I’ll give you what you want, Bun. But don’t you dare fucking lie to me. Would you watch the light leave my flesh? Would you send the devil back to hell?” His gaze is smooth and doesn’t falter. He searches my eyes for the truth.

My chin tilts up with my reluctance.

“Never. I could never. Not you.” Because you make me feel things I’ve never experienced before. I could never hurt you. I could never let you go.

He pulls the blade away slowly, letting it glide across my face before sheathing it. Our eyes don’t bend away from each other once.

“I’m so mad at you, Bun, but if you think I’d ever risk losing you…” He shakes his head and pulls me in tightly, wrapping those corded arms around me and squeezing tight. He holds me like every fiber of his being relies on it. His hands tenderly smooth over my skin and draw fire over the bruises around my throat.

“What have we let the world do to us, Bun?” he murmurs in a low, heady voice. It slips into my veins and I let the softness of it comfort me.

“We let them make monsters of us. Stolen vices.”

He pulls me back and stares into my eyes. His hot breath plumes around us in the cold air. “I don’t think I can keep doing this,” he says slowly. My brows pinch together. “I don’t think I can continue being Bones. Because Bones is heartless and ruthless. But ever since meeting you, I’ve been anything but those things. When I look at you, I feel like my thoughts are no longer blurry. This dark underworld I reign in doesn’t have to be the one I die in.”

He feels that way? My eyes lower and linger on his lips. Even after the things I’ve done.

“I want a world with you.”

I flinch and pull back until we’re staring into each other’s eyes.

“When I saw you wearing that dress it broke my heart. I saw what you could’ve been. I want you to wear whatever the fuck you want and be a normal person. Not out here, with bullets flying between us. I want us to be out there in the real world.” Bradshaw brushes the wild strands of hair behind my ear.

“Do you think we could make it out?” My voice is quiet, but his sad, boyish smile melts the ice around my soul.

“Together, our broken pieces can do anything.”

By the time we get to the bunker coordinates, the sun is already starting to come back up over the far mountains. I hold onto the hope that there will be a shower inside and a few beds.

My eyes are heavy when they lift to Bradshaw as he tries a few different codes on the bunker hatch. It’s a partially hidden metal door that’s camouflaged to match the dark green underbrush. The mountains crowd this area and make it inconspicuous. A river can be seen down in the valley below, giving me a sense of where we are geographically. I memorized the map Eren showed us, the rivers were the key to most of the landmarks.

We haven’t spoken in hours.

There really isn’t anything to say. We’ve both done terrible things for awful people. And that darkness consumes the air between us.

The latch finally beeps and Bradshaw lets out a relieved sigh as the door unlocks. He lifts the hatch and hesitates before he looks up at me.

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it just as quickly before looking away. It’s almost like we don’t know how to talk to each other anymore.

I close the distance between us and take the steps down the long ladder. It’s dark for the first five steps and then a sensor picks up my motion and fluorescent lights flicker on slowly.

The ladder leads into a large open area. The walls are made up of big white metal slats with bolts engineered into the edges, keeping them all lined up. Cots fill the sleeping side, enough for six people, and only one door lies at the end of the space—I’m assuming it’s a bathroom. Opposite of the cots are small cabinets and a black table. It’s simple and bare minimum for a bunker. I hope there’s food in the cupboards.

Being in this confined space makes my chest constrict. There’s only one way in or out of this bunker. My eyes lift to Bradshaw as he closes the hatch and locks it. There’s a keypad on the inside as well, but he’s the only one who knows the password.

Shit, maybe I should’ve been paying more attention when he was inputting codes. I watch him descend the ladder and he takes in the space like I did.

“How did Eren know these were here?” I ask.

His jaw ticks as he notices nothing about this bunker is military-grade. It was put here for hiding purposes by someone powerful and well-prepared. Someone paranoid. The Ghosts, I’m sure.

He turns and looks over his shoulder at me. “I don’t know.”

“At least tell me what the code was.” It’s not like I actually expect him to tell me, but the long frown he gives me still burns.

“You don’t need to know it,” he mutters.

“And why’s that?” I eye him callously.

“It guarantees my safety.”

I scoff. “From what?”

He levels me a broken stare. “From you betraying me.”

The shock must roll through my features dramatically because he forces his eyes away. He really thinks I would? I guess our secrets catch up to us. I can’t say I’d tell him what the code was if our predicaments were reversed.

The fight goes out of me with a pained breath. “Fair enough. You think there’s a shower here?”

“There should be.” He sits on one of the cots and lets his legs slide against the tile until they’re relaxed and spread apart. “You go ahead and shower first.”

I study him as he brings his hands to his head and ruffles his hair with distress. There are a million things I wish I could say. A million and one I wish I could take back.

But I don’t say anything; I let the sorrow grow between us and head to the bathroom.

It’s surprisingly spacious, but its only contents are a toilet, sink, and a round porcelain tub. One wall is entirely made up of a mirror. The fluorescent lights make a humming sound and brighten the room to the point where I can see every red stain on my skin.

The soldier I see in the mirror looks fractured. My eyes are bloodshot and my braid is ratted with forest debris. I let my focus linger on the bruises around my throat. It’s funny that the same woman in the mirror was wearing a cute yellow dress a couple weeks ago. Did Eren feel bad about recruiting me? Why would he befriend me if this is how he was intending to throw me away?

I start to strip slowly. My body aches and each movement requires a tremendous amount of energy. It takes me a few minutes to get completely naked. Once I am, I hesitantly look back at my body. There are more bruises than there aren’t. More skin that’s scabbed, scarred, or bruised than not. I take myself in and wonder why I don’t feel anything when I see the broken person staring back.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Nothing can be done about the past.

I scrub the blood and dirt from my skin and hair like I can absolve my sins this way. Like I can wash Abrahm from my hands. I have to drain the water for a second bath before I can soak, but as I do, I go over Bradshaw’s story repeatedly. Eren knew who I was on the plane—is that why he took my window seat? Forcing conversation… but he was always so kind to me. I let him touch me.

A chill sets in my bones at the thought of him knowing what my fate held this entire time. How conniving he was.

I drain the water and dry my hair, deciding to leave my gear off and wash it after Bradshaw cleans up. There is a stack of white folded shirts in the corner shelf next to a single wardrobe that’s much too tidy for my liking, as if someone frequents this place. We’ll have to leave here once we rest up. I’d hate to be in the bunker with only one exit if someone returns.

The shirt falls down to my ass and I change out to a dry pair of socks. I expect to find Bradshaw still sitting on the cots when I finally emerge from the bathroom, but he’s not there anymore. My heart rate spikes and I make for the ladder.

He wouldn’t lock me in here. He wouldn’t.

But as I look up at the metal door with a red light staring back at me, my hope fizzles out.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I whirl, eyes finding him at the opposite end of the room, opening some canned food from the cabinets. My breath comes back to me and I try to slow it to steady my pulse.

“I thought you… left me down here.” My voice is shaky. He narrows his eyes at me before waving me over.

He already has a few cans opened and hands me one with preserved apples inside. The scent reaches me first: cinnamon and tart. My stomach growls and my mouth waters. It’s easy to forget your hunger when you’re on a mission. I take it and the plastic fork he hands me, looking between him and the food before reluctantly biting into the soft apples and closing my eyes with the flavor.

“Can we call a truce now?” he asks haphazardly as he starts shoveling apples into his mouth too.

I swallow and laugh. “You think a can of apples can fix what we’ve done to each other?”

He continues eating as he considers me. “Why not?” His eyes are red and drift hesitantly down my body. “Jesus, Bun, you’re all banged up.” I grab the end of the white shirt and try pulling it over more of my bruised thighs.

“I’m fine.”

“You call this fine?” He sets down his can and reaches for one of my legs.

I swat his hand away. “Yes.”

Bradshaw raises a brow but drops it as he grabs my leg and slides me closer to him until I’m practically in his lap. “How was the shower?” he mutters mindlessly as he runs his fingertips over my skin, sending heat to my core.

“It’s only a bathtub, no shower head.” I set my can down and prop my arms up behind me. I don’t know why I’m letting him touch me like this, but it’s the only thing that doesn’t make me feel absolutely nothing, so I accept the comfort for what it is.

He groans and mutters, “Great.” His hands slide up an inch from my panties and he stops and looks up to my face. Bradshaw’s eyes are pale oceans I could drift into for the rest of time. He gently touches my chin and presses his forehead to mine. He takes a breath, swallowing before whispering with a raspy voice, “I forgive you for Abrahm.”

I jolt and try to push away, but Bradshaw only opens his eyes and stares into my soul with weary thoughts and forgotten sins. “All I want is to be by your side. In training, in war, in death. I can’t picture myself anymore without you being there, Bun. You linger in my thoughts, in my fears. But mostly, you’re the cause of all the emotions I feel again. I was dead until you tripped on my foot on the plane.”

Tears form in my eyes—they burn as I hold them back. “You don’t get to forgive me, Bradshaw.” My voice trembles. I’m not sure if it’s because I can’t forgive myself for it or if it’s because he’s partly to blame for Jenkins’s death. But if I sit on it long enough, I know deep down that I forgive him too.

He keeps me close against his chest and shushes me. “I’m sorry, Bun, I can’t help how my heart feels. The only thing I know is that I cannot lose you.” He presses a long kiss to the top of my head and I go limp in his arms. “And if you think I’m ever letting you go, you’re wrong. You’re mine. As much as I’m yours.”

He leaves me with that, slowly slipping from beneath me and heading to the bathroom to bathe.

I don’t move from my spot on the floor until he’s been in the bathroom for ten minutes. When I get up and pass the door, I glance at the opening and see Bradshaw’s naked form.

He’s covered in fresh wounds, some still bleeding. His back is covered in long scars, old bullet wounds, bruises, and gashes. The area around his ribs is especially purple. The sight of it makes my chest twist. He must have at least a few broken ribs. His tattoos hide a lot of things. But they can’t hide how hurt he is.

Bradshaw must sense me staring because he looks over his shoulder and our eyes connect. My cheeks flush and I swiftly avert my eyes and march to the cot closest to the wall. It feels like hours pass, but by the time Bradshaw comes out of the bathroom, it’s only been thirty minutes.

He settles on the cot beside me, wearing a matching white shirt, which he fits in much better in than I do, and his briefs. Now that his skin is clean, I can make out all the damage beneath and it’s heartbreaking. This must be how he felt seeing me, even though I felt nothing for my own pain when I saw it in the mirror.

I sit up and look at the sutures on his leg. He scrubbed it well and reapplied ointment. At least it doesn’t look like it’s getting infected.

“Eren told me you wanted to have a coffee shop. Was that always something you dreamt of?” I look up at him. His head is propped up with his arms folded behind his head for support. From this position his biceps are flexed and it makes that white shirt rise enough that I can see his V-shaped muscles at the waistband of his boxers. He gives me a relaxed smile. “Are you checking me out, Bun?” He chuckles and my brows draw together quickly.

“No. I wasn’t.”

He lifts one of his arms for me and beckons me to come to him. You’re mine. As much as I’m yours. My throat bobs. What I feel for Bradshaw is dangerously close to love. I consider not going to lay across that rigid, corded torso and letting him hold me. But my heart shifts on an entirely different axis than my brain and wins the battle.

Tentatively, I slide my palm into his and a gentle smile forms on his lips. He looks so tired. I’m not sure he got any rest while we were in the cave. Bradshaw guides me down beside him. I rest my head on his bicep and close my eyes as he wraps his arm around me.

“The coffee shop, Bun. Tell me about it,” he whispers drowsily.

I smile. “Well, it wouldn’t just be a coffee shop.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it would be a bookstore too. And my husband and I would live on the top floor.” His abs flex with the mention of a husband. I ignore the fact that I just pictured Bradshaw in that role. I try not to dwell on it, but the more I think of the apartment above the shop, the more I only see him. All his imperfections. He wouldn’t be hurt anymore. No more bullets to pierce his lovely flesh. No more blood.

My cheeks burn with the memory of him making me clean off my blood from his cock.

“You wanted to get married?” His voice sounds almost remorseful.

“At one point in my youth, I did. But life has a way of taking what you desire and shoving it down a garbage disposal.” He laughs at that, and I cling to the feeling it gives me. Lightness. I’m able to breathe. “How about you? Were there any dreams in a younger Bradshaw?”

His thumb gently coasts over my arm as he thinks. “I always wanted a family, but I knew I’d never get one. Not with the way I am and the underground world that my brother and I fell into. I wouldn’t be a good father.”

My chin lifts so I can look into his eyes. He doesn’t break his stare from the ceiling. His thumb just continues to stroke my skin slowly.

“Are you lonely?” I ask, knowing the desire for family but fearing it because of the way I am. It’d be impossible.

He chuckles sadly. “I wasn’t.” His voice has an implying lilt. Bradshaw shifts to his side so he’s facing me. “But after you… I feel lonely whenever you’re not around.” His eyes are like ice shards straight into my heart.

Does he really feel that way? I can sense myself withdrawing and ready to end the conversation because it’s getting too personal. But each time I think I can slip away, he pulls me right back with that smile.

“We should think about what our plan is. We can’t stay here long.” I change the subject. If he notices, he doesn’t make it known.

He nods and lets his head fall to the side so his lips touch my head. “Let’s get some sleep first. I’m fading fast.”

Although sleep finds him quickly, I’m left staring at the ladder that leads up. The motion sensors cut out at some point and plunge us into darkness.