I remember the time I thought I lost you and it was also the third time I came in for my weekly brunch almost a year ago. I walked through the doors and you weren’t working. I didn’t see you anyway, but it became apparent you weren’t in after twenty or so minutes passed. I asked my server if you were coming in and no one had heard anything. It was at that moment I knew you were gone and much like months later, standing in my storage unit surrounded by your pictures, I figured I had overstepped my bounds and the last nineteen years were a waste. When you rushed in an hour later in a huff with sleep still crusting your eyes complaining of the TTC and alarm clocks and cell phone chargers I gripped the sides of my table and held myself back from giving you the longest and most intense embrace of your life, relieved your demise was a thing of imagination.
But I did spend that hour planning out the end game. It is amazing how one event can trigger a flood of thought and inspiration. I thought of everything that Terrance had planned out but I also thought of everything he hadn’t. His entire ploy was based on the heartstrings of the individuals or individuals that he blackmailed. What if I, or we, didn’t play along? In a way it was too late for me to undo any of the wrongs that I had done, but I did know a lot of things that could help an investigation into him or them or their organization.
The emptiness I felt that day when I thought you were gone turned into fuel and even when I heard you walk through the door and saw your perturbed look, I knew that it was time for me to fight back. I would use my last year to formulate my own plan to prevent someone else from ending up in my situation and hopefully prevent two more decades of horror.