Still Falling

23 | away

Finn

*

On Friday morning, I was up early. The flight to the island wasn't until later at noon, but at 5am, I couldn't bring myself to go back to sleep. I wondered if Amanda was up too, perhaps entangling in a bundle of nerves about the trip. I wouldn't blame her if she was. She'd been putting up a headstrong front since I asked her if she okay with honoring Genevieve's request.

I let her know two days ago that we would be flying on my jet; me, her and Parker. A full range of security and handymen would be at the Young island, so I didn't have to bother about going with any of my men. I tossed and turned for half an hour before giving up on my sleep ambition.

I got off the bed, turned a lamp on and pulled a drawer open. I rummaged through the poorly lit compartment until I found a small sketchpad and pencil. The book only contained a few sketches, and I was about to fill it up with more of the only muse that featured in it. I tucked myself into a sofa and turned on the lamp next to it. I flipped to a fresh page and brought the pen to the surface.

It almost scared me how easy it came to me when it was her. I should probably question it, dig deeper, but I was scared I would ruin the flow if I did. If Amanda was going to be the one inspiration that got me out me out of my creative funk, then so be it. I couldn't think of anyone whom I would prefer it to be. Her face was like an art frame hung in my mind, one I could see with terrifying clarity. She clung to my subconscious, filling my dreams and waking hours.

I'm a doomed man, I thought as I made crosshatch marks on the side of her supple cheeks. A doomed man who was the least alarmed about his situation. I was powerless against her siren call, and hoped I wouldn't end up hurt in the end. I had already been hurt before, and in a sick way, I would relive it a thousand times if it meant she would be spared from danger.

I was done sketching her face in under five minutes. I let out a hard exhale and snapped the sketchbook shut. I got up and walked to the spot where my packed bags were, undid the zip to my satchel and tossed it in. If I was lucky, she'd fall asleep on the flight and I would have a chance to draw her again then. If I was lucky. The flight to the Young island which was situated off the islands of Turks and Caicos was a fairly short three hour ride.

I ran my hands down my face, suppressed a yawn, and undressed. The water in the shower was hot and soothing as it flowed down my hair to my feet. I stayed there longer than I usually did, for no concrete reason. It was a stalling act. Every action I made felt slower, more intentional as I lived them. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, and my whole being felt lethargic. Pinpointing the cause was tough.

There were many plausible reasons why I was feeling this way.

I would have to process the reality of Nik's loss tomorrow while I watched him being lowered into the cold, unfeeling earth. No matter how hard I tried, my chest felt like it housed a lead weight. My entire family would be there too, and that would be their first time setting eyes on me since my birthday dinner, a long time ago. I didn't know if I was ready to engage with any of them, let alone bear their feelings towards me.

And then there was Amanda, whom I had to convince myself would be okay during her stay on the island. There was no impending threat- the guests at the island would be under thirty in number, all of which would family, friends and associates who were so important that they had access to Nicholas Young, even in death.

After I got out of the shower, I took something to help me sleep and informed Parker. He would have to come into my apartment to wake me if I wasn't up on time. I didn't fancy taking meds for anything, but I felt antsy and my overthinking was through the roof, so I made an exception.