WICKED | WILLIAM FRANKLYN-MILLER

⟶ 19 | WICKED

[WILLIAM]

⑅

LOVEY WAS BURIED ON SEPTEMBER 30TH, AT EXACTLY 10AM.

I wondered how many people came to her funeral. I wondered if she liked them, or not. I wondered if she hated the clothes they buried her in, or if she liked the engraving on her tombstone. I wanted to ask those questions, but the answer wouldn't be the same—I wanted her to tell me.

I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral. A part of me didn't want to. I spent most of my life trying not to be seen, and if I had to stand amongst people who 'claimed to love her' or 'missed her presence', I wouldn't hold my tongue. I would miss her more than anyone on this small earth would.

She was buried in London. They were going to bury her in Paris, but I refused. Let her go home, I said, please, she needs to go home. If I could go back in time, I'd stop her from getting on that train. Paris was the end for her. I wanted to hate it for that.

But it was our beginning.

So how could I?

I thought about that room again. I thought about the music playing through the walls.

We'll meet again...

In another life, I might be back in that tiny room, on that tiny bed, listening to the music play through the walls. I'll still be holding her. I'll hear her talk in her sleep, and not care if she steals the blankets, because at least she'll be warm.

But that's not my life. Not anymore.

Now, I'm standing in front of her tombstone, watching how the light danced against the marble surface. It wasn't the first time I'd come here. I'd visited everyday after her funeral. Sometimes I'd just sit in silence, and other times I'd read to her; The Curo Society, our favourite book. I don't think I could ever make it past the page Henry died. It reminded me too much of her.

But sometimes, I'd place my hand on the tombstone and remember.

I'd remember that room, with the broken mattress and the cracked mirror; the narrow hallway, and the woman next door. I remembered the song she always played.

We'll meet again...

I remembered everything.

Don't know where, don't know when...

I would never forget her.

But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day...

"Don't blame yourself," a voice said from behind me. "Blame them."

I had heard the crunch of footsteps against the leaves, but didn't care enough to turn around. Someone, a stranger, had come up when I wasn't looking. I noticed their figure out of the corner of my eye.

"Them?" I asked.

I didn't know who they were. Turning my head, I finally looked at them. It was a woman, with short brown hair, and a black coat that went down to her knees. I wasn't sure why she was here, or if she'd known Lovey, but something told me she didn't.

She was here for me.

"Don't you think it's unfair that they're still out there?" She asked. "I mean, the Ashes killed the people we loved, and yet they get to live."

We? "I don't know what you mean."

"They killed my sister."

I didn't say anything.

A suspicion arose in me, and I knew why she was here. We weren't so different, this woman and I. I could see the scars of trauma around her eyes, and I could see the way she held herself—poised, cautious, and dangerous. This was a woman who was blinded by anger and the need for revenge.

So was I.

"Someone needs to take them down," she said, turning to me. "Someone needs to destroy that family once and for all."

I nodded. "Family?"

"There's a daughter."

A daughter? This was something I hadn't known about the Ashes. In their schemes of villainy and manslaughter, not even the intelligence agency I worked for knew about a daughter. It made me furious to even think about it. Those criminals were able to have a family. To have a life. To have happiness when I couldn't; when she couldn't.

"How do you know this?" I asked.

The woman grinned. "I'm part of a secret society. A place where people who have been wronged by the Ashes go to seek revenge."

"That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Of course. Don't you want to avenge your loved one?"

"Yes." More than anything.

"Then maybe you should join us."

I glanced at Lovey's tombstone, the shiny marble twinkling in my gaze. If she was here, she'd tell me to move on. To stop being angry, and to stop killing. But she wasn't here, and that's what hurt me. It's what made me believe that I never could be changed, because I was too far gone to do so. That everything I did was mindless and inhumane.

If there was one last thing I'd do, I'd avenge her.

I'd destroy the Ashes, until there was nothing left of them.

"William," I said, turning towards the woman. "Franklyn-Miller."

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I didn't care. This organisation she worked for held the same beliefs as I did. Something told me we'd be unstoppable.

Grinning, the woman held out her hand.

"Millie Bobby Brown," she said. "Welcome to The Embers."