Moving his head numbly, he looked down, expecting to see blood dripping out from under the door, but there was none. He blinked, still not able to believe what just happened, and then his insides began to warm. This wasn’t like when his parents had passed. He wouldn’t just get over it this time and move on with his emotionless life. He knew now he did feel. He felt a lot, damn it, and what he was feeling right now would never pass.

He hadn’t lied when he told her he couldn’t live without her. Remembering the gun on the other side of the door, he sprung to his feet. With the adrenaline blazing through him now, he cursed God as he kicked the door.

“This is the life you handed me!” he yelled as he slammed his body into the door and heard it crack again. “Are you fucking mocking me?” He kicked it even harder, and this time it finally cracked open. “Well, I don’t want it! You hear me? I don’t want this fucked-up life anymore! I won’t live without her!”

Pushing the door open, his anger subsided as he saw her body on the floor, blocking the door, and he was inundated with pain again. He struggled to get the door open with her lifeless body blocking it, but he finally managed, and he dropped to his knees next to her and sobbed.

At first, he was so consumed with grief all he could think of was looking for the gun because he couldn’t take another agonizing moment of seeing his beautiful princess like that. He could hardly see straight as he continued to sob like a child, taking her body in his arms.

It was first time since the day of the burial Brandon visited the cemetery. He’d been so bitter back then he swore he’d never return. He’d told himself there was nothing here for him, no reason to come back ever, but now it was time and he had to.

Kneeling down in front of the small tombstone, he laid the single daisy over the grave. It was time to say good-bye once and for all to the belief that he didn’t need love—that he didn’t need friends and family—that he was strong because he didn’t cry, didn’t show emotion, and didn’t beg. He knew now just how much he needed all those things that for years he’d said he could happily do without. He’d never be that man again.

Feeling the gentle touch on his shoulder, Brandon looked up at his beautiful Regina. He was thankful now and would be every single day of his life that he had her in it, because he needed her. He couldn’t live without her, and he told her as often as she’d let him. He touched her hand then brought it to his lips and kissed it. She leaned over and kissed his head. “I’ll give you a moment to be alone with your dad, okay? I’m gonna be over at that bench.” She pointed.

Brandon nodded. “I won’t be long.”

She walked away, and he turned back to the tombstone: Stephen Billings, husband and father. For years, he hadn’t bothered reading or going through his parents’ things. It wasn’t until after Regina’s incident when he sat with her while she went through some of her father’s and her late husband’s things that he decided to do the same with his parents’ things. He’d buried them in a box he’d kept in storage for years, right there in San Diego.

After reading through some of his mom’s journals, Brandon realized what those demons his father had were. Like Brandon himself, Stephen had had a father who was cold and impenetrable. Unlike Brandon, he didn’t have a mother to protect him, ever. But he’d had a younger sister, a sister who his mother said his father had once upon a time shared his feelings about. Katie was the only person to ever show him love, and she looked to Stephen to protect her. He was all she had and she was his world.

Katie had died at the hands of a father who then turned the gun on himself, leaving Stephen completely alone at the age of seven. More than loneliness, Brandon’s father had lived his entire life with the agony of not having been able to save his sister. He’d failed her, and he’d never forgiven himself.

His parents met in foster care. They’d grown up together, fell in love, and married. Like Brandon, his father had sworn he’d never have children. He didn’t want to fail them as he had his sister. Then his wife got pregnant. Stephen was beside himself. In hindsight, his mother wrote in her journal that his father was a man in desperate need of psychiatric help. In her notes, she also said she saw the love Stephen had for Brandon in his eyes but that he fought it tooth and nail. Then the phobia began. The same phobia Brandon had lived with for years: that he would turn into his father. His father’s phobia of turning into the man who’d taken his world away manifested, getting worse over the years and turning him into the hateful man Brandon remembered.

If Brandon hadn’t gone years with the same fears, he was certain he wouldn’t understand. Brandon swore he’d never live in fear of his demons again because there was something much bigger he was terrified of now. Losing his world—losing Regina. He’d lived through the excruciating pain of thinking he had, and he knew with all certainty nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever be worth risking that. He’d been a changed man from the moment he first kissed Regina. But after that horrific experience, he’d live every day of his life thankful to have been given a second chance and doing everything he could to make her happy.

“I forgive you, Dad,” he whispered.

It’s what his therapist had told him he needed to do. She’d been right. It felt good to finally forgive his father. It didn’t right any of the things his father had done: All the miserable years of growing up feeling different—unaccepted—the freak of the neighborhood. All the years of not living after both his parents died because he’d been afraid. He was only glad now that he’d managed to overcome that fear when it was most important, when he’d decided to open up his heart to Regina.

She brought all this change into his life, including talking him into seeing a therapist and letting out all that he held in, all the pain he numbed away after both his parents’ deaths. It did feel better to let it out, and he knew now needing a therapist didn’t mean he was weak. He was healing, and it felt damn good to let it all out.

~*~

Regina

Watching Brandon kneeling at his father’s graveside was almost unbelievable. He’d come such a long way. She’d been surprised when he agreed to join her in seeking the therapy to help them deal with the things they were both obviously still dealing with. It was only once every two weeks, but it was already helping. Brandon had told her more than once that the day he buried his father he’d said good-bye forever and he’d never come back here again.

She knew he’d been nervous about coming here today, but she was proud of him. This was a huge step for him.

Her family still didn’t know about what happened that day in her condo. She wasn’t sure she’d ever tell them, but they’d since moved her out of there. Seeing the patched up bullet hole in the ceiling of her bathroom was a constant reminder of what she’d put Brandon through, and she didn’t want to be reminded of it anymore. Neither did he.

Shaking her head, she still couldn’t get the memory of hearing him become so hysterical out of her mind. In her haste to get up and open the door to comfort him, the ridiculously powerful gun she’d bought to make sure it got the job done had gone off in her hand. The force had been so much that she’d flown back against shower tile and had been knocked unconscious.

She’d woken to Brandon’s sobs. He’d been cradling her in his arms, but they’d been sobs of joy. He later explained that, before he was able to break the bathroom door in, he really believed he would find her dead in a pool of her own blood. He also confessed that his only thought the entire time was to take the gun and turn it on himself.