The 'talk' with Tyrone had ended in unmitigated disaster. He had turned her pain back on her, not understanding or not being willing to listen to where she was coming from. Part of her knew that his self righteousness was born out his own pain, the loss of his brother, the circumstances. But, he still has the life he always had. The Catholic School, the upper middle class family, a mom and a dad. Even a comfortable bed. The death of her father at the hands of the Roxxon Corporation had left her with a delusional alcoholic mother, who made living at home impossible, a restless life of stealing and lying, and very little hope outside of her re-connection with Tyrone. That hope had been dashed. He had told her to 'check her privilege' when she shared her thoughts about ending her life. That was rich coming from someone who seemed to have endless possibilities in front of him. Though he may understand grief, he did not understand how it could destroy a family, how it could leave one person permanently devastated and another cut adrift, left to fend for themselves. She was tired of fending for herself, tired of covering the pain with brief bursts of cash and gifts that she had to lie, cheat, and steal to achieve. She thought Greg might change that, that he might be a reliable anchor. Just as sure as she had allowed hope to blossom, Greg was shot dead before her very eyes. Tyrone didn't know about that. Neither did her mom. Poor soul. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Tandy anymore, if she did at all. Tyrone didn't understand her hopelessness and she was not going to explain it again. It was time. Their weird connection wasn't going to save her. It might even put her into Greg's shoes. A target of Roxxon. Enough. Enough running. Enough hiding. She was tired of the daily swindle. She would put a stop to it all.
Tandy packed her knapsack with a heavy chain and monster lock. The sun was rising as she left the church she had called home for the last time. The pier was only a few blocks away and it was early enough in the morning that foot traffic was nonexistent. As she set foot on the wood planks of the pier, she felt the weight of the chain she was carrying. She did not waver. Marching to the end of the dock, she removed the backpack and took out the chain. She climbed up onto the rail and securely wrapped the chain around her lower legs. Making sure it was locked, she tugged on the chain with force. She stood still and silent or a moment, trying to conjure a picture of her dad, any moment of happier times. She could not. Like hanging tapestries in her mind, sorrow and pain were all that would usher her into death.
Liam's heartbroken acceptance of her rejection.
Her attempted rape.
Tyrone's angry lecture.
Greg's blood spattered on his law office window.
Her mother leaving Greg a tearful message of reconciliation, not knowing he was already dead.
Tandy Bowen jumped.
She sank faster than she thought she would and hit bottom in a handful of seconds. She did not struggle, but nor did she suck the sea water quickly into her lungs. Did she still doubt her desire to die? She was so sure that it would never get better. Wasn't she? Roxxon had won again and Tyrone was not her friend or lover or guardian angel. Or was he? Tyrone had saved her once before. He seemed to want to keep saving her. But in a non controlling way. He wanted her to live. He wanted her to want to fight her demons. He wanted to be there with her when she defeated them. But why?
Why had God or Roxxon science or whatever linked them given them these cursed gifts. Hopes were only that. She could not see the future. What she saw was only a fantasy, a vision of a desired future, realistic or not. She realized how useful it could be in a deceptive manner, in order to manipulate people. But what would Tyrone say? How would he want her to use it? How would he use his own gifting of seeing people's fears?
Her lungs burned and she remembered the flight from her father's sinking car. Tyrone's hand shrouded in inky blackness. She wondered then if they would live. They did. She looked up and could see the glimmer of sunlight playing on the surface. It was not too far, but she could not reach it. In that moment, she knew she wanted to live. Without even consciously calling it, the hot white dagger appeared in her hand. The light was not near as blinding as when she had unwittingly called Tyrone to her rescue so long ago. But it was bright and it was power and it was life. She bent over far enough to slash the blade through the lock. It fell in half as if she had sliced though a stick of butter. Hastily she shed the chain and swam for the surface.
When she broke the surface, gasping for air, the dagger was still in her hand. She brought it to her face, to see the light. She clutched it tightly and did not let it go until she reached the shore.
Roxxon would pay.
She and Tyrone would figure it out; who they were, what they could do, and what they would do with it.
She would do what she could for her mom.
It would not be easy. But she would not be alone.