The Remains Of Regret

The Remains Of Regret

The sea wind had grown colder by the time the white van arrived at the fisherman’s warehouse. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the soaked ground and the faint outline of bodies moving about — silent, grim men in dark uniforms who knew the weight of what they carried.

King stood near the entrance, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, rain dripping from the brim of his cap. Beside him, Rex stood motionless, staring blankly into the distance. The rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks filled the air, mingling with the rustle of plastic as they prepared Judith’s body for transport.

She lay there on the wet concrete floor, pale, fragile, and still. The blood from the single gunshot wound had already dried, dark against her temple. Her once fiery face, always filled with resentment or pride, was now expressionless, emptied of the fury that had consumed her for years.

When the men began lifting her into the body bag, Rex turned his back. He couldn’t watch. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, but he couldn’t stop the tremor that passed through him.

“Zip her up,” one of the men murmured quietly. The zipper’s rasping sound sliced through the heavy silence.

King exhaled slowly and glanced at Rex. “It’s done.”

Rex didn’t answer. He stood there, rain soaking through his shirt, eyes fixed on nothing. The van doors closed with a dull thud. As the vehicle began to drive away, King hesitated, then took the keys from Rex’s limp hand.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “We’ll follow them.”

Rex hesitated, his eyes fixed on the spot where Judith had fallen. The echo of the gunshot still seemed to linger in the air, ringing faintly in his mind.

“Rex,” King said again, firmer this time.

Rex blinked hard and climbed into the passenger seat. As King started the car, the tires hissed against the wet gravel. Behind them, the authorities remained at the scene, flashing lights reflected against the damp walls of the warehouse.

For a long while, neither man spoke. The only sound was the steady patter of rain against the windshield and the distant hum of the van ahead of them.

Rex’s hands were clasped tightly together on his lap, his knuckles pale. His eyes followed the van through the fog as if by keeping it in sight, he could undo what had just happened.

“She’s really gone,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Just like that.”

King glanced at him briefly but kept his eyes on the road. “You couldn’t have stopped her even if you tried harder, Rex. Not after everything she has done. It’s not only about kidnapping the kids anymore, she shoot Martha and probably killed Robin. The police are still looking for his body.”

Rex shook his head slowly. “No… no, I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known what she’d do worse.”

King’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “She made her choice. You didn’t pull that trigger. It’s not your fault.”

Rex turned to him, his face drawn and hollow. “You don’t get it. I did pull it — not with a gun, but with the way I treated her.” His voice cracked. “I kept pushing her away. Every time she reached out to me, reached out love or reassurance, I ignored her and made her feel small. Useless. Unwanted. And now look where it’s led.”

King stayed silent, the wipers squeaking rhythmically as they brushed away the rain.

Rex leaned back, eyes unfocused. “She used to be so full of life,” he whispered. “You remember? When we first met her, she was fiery, determined… she’d light up a room when she walked in with her confidence. I killed that light. Bit by bit.”

King exhaled, glancing briefly toward him. “She wasn’t easy, Rex. You both burned each other down in your own ways. You were both toxic to each other.”

Rex let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, maybe. But I was supposed to protect her, I was her husband. Her mother, her father trusted me with that simple task and I failed. Now I have to tell her that her daughter’s gone.” He covered his face with his hands. “How am I supposed to say that to her, King? She’s already sick, how do I tell her Judith shot herself because of me?”

King didn’t answer immediately. He watched the taillights of the van flicker through the mist ahead. “You’ll tell her the truth,” he said finally. “You owe her that much. And you owe it to Judith.”

Rex’s jaw tightened, his breath coming in slow, uneven pulls. “The truth,” he repeated softly. “The truth is, I destroyed her. I broke her down until there was nothing left. And when she begged for something real from me, I gave her silence.”

They drove on in silence, the night stretching endlessly around them. The rain had eased, but the air remained heavy with the scent of salt and smoke.

Rex stared out the window as the coastline blurred by, his reflection ghostly in the glass. “You know, King,” he said quietly, “she didn’t even have any hatred for me in the end. She just… smiled at me and it was so sincere but sad. As if it was a relief. That’s what I’ll never forget that smile.”

King swallowed hard. “Sometimes, when people break, it’s not about hate anymore. It’s about escape.”

Rex turned his head slowly. “She said loving me destroyed her,” he murmured. “And maybe, just maybe she was right.”

The van ahead turned off onto the main road leading toward the city. King followed closely behind, his expression grim.

“We’ll make sure she’s laid to rest properly,” he said after a while. “She deserves that much.”

Rex nodded faintly, but his eyes were distant. “I used to think she’d never stop fighting me. No matter how cruel I was, she always came back. Part of me thought she’d always be there, waiting for me to change. Waiting for me to love her like she always wanted.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Now there’s no one left waiting.”

The car fell into silence again, save for the hum of the engine and the distant thunder rolling over the sea.

King finally spoke, his tone quieter now. “You can’t rewrite what’s done, Rex. But you can carry it differently. Don’t let it destroy what’s left of you too.”

Rex’s lips parted, but no words came. The road ahead curved gently, leading them toward the faint lights of the city. Dawn was beginning to break, pale gray bleeding into the horizon.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, exhaustion etched deep into every line of his face. “You think time will ever fix this?” he asked quietly like a whisper.”

King gave a slow shake of his head. “No. But maybe it’ll dull the edges. Make it less painful.”

Rex managed a weak nod. His gaze followed the van as it rolled to a stop outside the city morgue. Workers in medical coats emerged to meet it, their movements brisk, practiced.

King parked nearby, and for a moment, neither man moved. The hum of the car engine was the only sound between them.

Finally, Rex opened the door and stepped out. The cold morning air hit him hard, waking the ache in his chest. He watched as they lifted Judith’s covered body out of the van. Even through the heavy layers of fabric, she looked small. Fragile.

King joined him, standing quietly by his side. “Let’s go,” he said softly.

Rex’s voice cracked when he finally spoke. “She deserved better than this.”

King glanced at him. “Then remember her that way,” he said.

Rex nodded weakly, but the guilt still clung to his voice. “I couldn’t love her,” he murmured. “And now I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing I had.”

As the first light of dawn broke over the city, Rex stood there with King beside him, watching the body of the woman who had loved him beyond reason disappear behind the morgue doors. The air smelled of rain and regret, the quiet kind that came too late for forgiveness.