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Thrashing around as a scream tore its way out of her throat, Erin awoke. Her forehead was drenched in sweat: her pillow damp as a result.
Just days ago did the police finally retrieve Charlie's mangled body from the forgotten depths of that dreadful island. According to them, he was in pieces, his face barely recognisable among the deep cuts and stab wounds. This fact confused the remaining survivors due to how they'd been forced to leave him. Erin presumed the disgusting murderer responsible for his death had lashed out, (not that she didn't know who) scarring his only victim further, even beyond death. It was a cruel action in spite of the rest of the crew who'd managed to claw their way out of the pit that was Du'met's clutches. There was no point in saying Du'met was heartless either, for that man never once possessed a heart to begin with. The only heart he had was one stolen right out of the chest of one of his poor victims.
Charlie's family were here in America, so the funeral was over quite quickly. Erin had refused to give a few words, knowing deep down that Charlie simply wouldn't have wanted her to. All the nagging as well as the constant pushing her around to what felt like a breaking point simmering in a pot… Erin knew deep down that she truly deserved it, now more than ever. All the words he could ever say to her, they were exactly what she deserved. She wouldn't even bite her tongue to prevent vile words spilling out in retaliation; she'd hang her head in shame and refuse to pick it back up again.
She was surprised the rest were even willing to speak to her after what she did. Even though they were not fond of their boss, he united them in a way not a single one of them could deny. He oddly enough brought them altogether as some form of weird, messed up family. And truth be told, it didn't matter how he was… The poor man still suffered a horrific death that Erin herself had technically caused.
It ate her up inside, grasping at her brain and squeezing until she could barely conjure up a thought that didn't revolve around Charlie. She'd often wake, immediately pulling in her trembling knees, and soak them with salty tears that were a key staple of her raw, intense guilt. There wasn't a thing she could do to reverse time and stop herself from believing in that twisted recording Du'met had ever so kindly left her on that gurney, wrapped up in a bow for her like a present.
Just like how she'd left Charlie as a little gift for Du'met.
Erin's mind would cloud so often, thinking of every different path she could have taken to prevent herself from making such a ludicrous claim. Why had she been so ridiculously stupid to believe a man whose sole purpose was to wring the life out of each one of them, simply for his own twisted amusement? Why had she been so pathetic? She'd roll her eyes and look the other way from those who compared her to a lost deer in the blinding headlights of a truck. But deep down, Erin knew they were right. She was nothing more than a deer who froze up at any slight fork in the road; a deer who was so easily tempted and lured with just a mere morsel of food, directly into wherever someone wanted her to be. She'd so foolishly skipped directly into Du'met's trap, confidence radiating from her brighter than the sun: blazing like the firey molten surrounding the star. But confidence would get you nowhere when you are completely and utterly set on lies and deceit.
Nevertheless, Erin had been wrong. She'd been so wrong that it had cost an innocent man his life. To imagine Charlie tied up and alone while that vile man dragged a blade across his trembling chest over and over again until he perished brought fresh tears into the woman's eyes. If she talked to herself, tried to smack some sense into her brain amidst its continuous screaming that the director was out to get them. Would it have changed anything?
A few weeks had passed, and Erin found herself getting less sleep as the nights passed agonisingly slow. She'd spend hours at the sink, digging shaking fingers into the sides as she sobbed, pouring her heart into every word she screamed into the running water before allowing them to be swallowed down by the drain.
Even now, as she wrapped her winter scarf around her neck did Erin find herself muttering pleas under her breath.
Why did she have to find her voice after so long? Why couldn't she have just buried it or sealed it within herself for all eternity? Why did she think being so strong, so brave… Why did she think it was a good idea? Her courage had led to a horrific crime that could never ever be justified, no matter how high those random relieving hours felt amidst her overwhelming sorrow and guilt.
Stepping out into the freezing cold of winter, Erin spied a sweet little robin perched atop a thin branch. However, it immediately flew away upon seeing her, disappearing over the fence and into a neighbour's yard just out of view. A wonderful encounter with nature would be enough to make anyone smile warmly despite the weather, or potentially slow the turmoil inside them, even just for a moment. But for Erin, it only made her guilt rush back for the second time this morning. She'd never be free from the truth, no matter how hard she tried to distance herself from it. It was cowardly of her to even believe she should be able to distance herself from it, too. Charlie would never be able to distance himself from the earthy depths of his grave, so why should she try to sneak past the burdens of her actions? And maybe the bird knew that too. Maybe Erin had a sign on her that yelled out exactly what disgusting actions she'd taken that fateful night.
But what would standing here overanalysing the behaviour of a bird do for her? She had things to do! One that was so incredibly important. Something she'd been putting off, and couldn't bear to put off any longer.
Placing down her grocery bags onto the ground, Erin kneeled. The cold instantly shot up her legs, making the rest of her feel like she was about to freeze over like a lake in the dead of winter. Nevertheless, she persisted, flowers gripped in trembling hands.
“Hi Charlie,” she began. Her voice was a little shaky, and the wind had already stolen a few of the petals, sending them drifting down onto the earth below her knees.
Fingers tracing softly over the words etched into the stone before her, Erin sighed. Her cheeks were wet, making her face terribly cold, and her mind had already clouded over.
“Oh Charlie.. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” sobbing, Erin pressed her head against the stone, dropping the flowers to the ground where they lay splayed out before her. She'd wrapped her arms around his gravestone, holding it in a tight embrace until she realised just how silly she looked.
But truth be told… Erin didn't care how she looked to passerbys, not that any of them would even be paying attention to her anyway, likely stricken with grief themselves. So she continued, the word ‘sorry’ spilling from her mouth so much that it started to sound like it wasn't even a word anymore.
Heart heavy, Erin reluctantly let go before dragging herself up. She arranged the flowers neatly (of a fashion) before bringing the back of her finger to her eyes, not caring about how dirty they were from the earth below.
Her words were pitiful, fell on deaf ears kind of pitiful. But she hoped somehow that Charlie was listening to her, even if it wasn't possible, and spirits didn't exist.
“I- I… I'm so fucking sorry Charlie… I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
It sounded selfish, of course it sounded selfish.
Lowering her head, Erin joined her hands together, fingers interlocking as she stared meekly.
Her final words of the day to him were spoken as pathetically as the rest, her sniffles making them more incoherent than anything. They were more apologies of course. Stupid apologies that felt oh so worthless. They could never bring the director back. They could never fix the pain his poor family felt. God.. they could never fix the pain he had endured as the blade slashed his chest, over, and over, and over, and over-
“I'm so sorry, Charlie.”
Picking up her bags, Erin started to walk away, looking back over her shoulder at the gravestone in the vast sea of other graves that it seemed to melt away into.
Despite her pleas, Erin knew she shouldn't be forgiven. For what she had done had taken away Charlie.
She could never, ever bring him back, no matter how hard she pleaded for him to forgive her.