THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Confession
They stayed at a small motel on the edge of a town neither of them had ever heard of.
The room was small — two beds, a bathroom, a window that looked out onto a parking lot. The walls were thin, the carpet was stained, the air smelled of old cigarette smoke and cheaper dreams.
Nora sat on the edge of her bed.
Miles sat on the edge of his.
The silence between them was heavy.
“Miles.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you really do it?”
He didn’t pretend not to understand.
“I told you. To save you.”
“Save me from what?”
“From yourself. From your guilt. From your grief. From the prison you’ve been living in for fifteen years.”
“You killed four people to save me from my feelings?”
He was silent for a long moment.
“I killed four people who were already dying. Who were already suffering. Who were already lost.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He looked at her.
His eyes were wet.
“I killed them because I couldn’t kill myself.”
The words hung in the air.
Nora’s breath stopped.
“What?”
“I wanted to die. Every day. Every night. Every hour. After Lena died, I wanted to follow her. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to end the pain.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was a coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“I was. I am. I couldn’t pull the trigger. I couldn’t take the pills. I couldn’t step off the ledge.”
“So you killed other people instead?”
“I killed people who deserved to die. Who needed to die. Who wanted to die.”
“That’s not justice. That’s vengeance.”
“Is there a difference?”
Nora stood.
She walked to the window.
The parking lot was empty.
The stars were hidden behind clouds.
“I’ve thought about killing myself too,” she said.
Miles didn’t speak.
“After Lena died. After the funeral. After the guilt became too heavy. I thought about driving my car off a bridge. I thought about swallowing a bottle of pills. I thought about stepping in front of a train.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was a coward too.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“I was. I am. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave my parents. I couldn’t leave my job. I couldn’t leave the hope that someday I might find out what happened to her.”
“And now?”
“Now I know.”
She turned to face him.
“And I’m still here.”
“Me too.”
“Does that make us brave?”
He shook his head.
“No. It makes us human.”
She walked back to her bed.
She sat down.
“I don’t forgive you,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I ever will.”
“I know.”
“But I understand you.”
“That’s enough.”
“Is it?”
“It has to be.”
They sat in silence.
The clock on the nightstand ticked.
The wind blew through the cracks in the walls.
Nora lay down.
She closed her eyes.
She slept.