Chapter 16

Clint's P.O.V

"Hey, where's Bea?" Nat asks, her voice laced with concern as she glances at the digital clock on the wall, its numbers glowing ominously in the dim light of the gym.

"I don't know; she was supposed to meet us for practice twenty minutes ago," I respond, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

"It's not like her to be late," she muses, her gaze darting around the space, searching for any sign of our friend.

"No, it's really not," I agree, unease washing over me like a cold wave.

"Let's go check on her," Nat suggests, her determination evident, as she leads the way out of the gym.

As we step into the deserted corridor, the air feels tainted with an unsettling silence, each footfall echoing hauntingly off the walls. We make our way to Bea's room, and as we cross the threshold, a nauseating odour assaults our senses—a putrid stench that evokes a visceral reaction. The vibrant green of Bea's once healthy plants has faded; they lie lifeless and shrivelled, their leaves drooping like the defeated remnants of an untended garden.

An ominous sound draws our attention—a relentless torrent of water cascading from the bathroom faucet. Nat raps softly on the door, her voice trembling slightly with worry.

"Hey, Bea, you okay?" I call out, my heart beginning to race.

Silence envelops us, thick and suffocating.

"Bea?" I try once more, desperation creeping into my tone.

When no answer comes, a surge of panic grips me. I twist the doorknob, but it resists my attempt. "Bea! Bea! OPEN THE DOOR, BEA!" I shout, my fists striking the wood with urgency. I pause for a moment, my breath faltering under the weight of dread.

"Bea!"

Again, the silence stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. I can't wait any longer; the instinct to act surges through me. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I brace myself against the door and break it down with a powerful shove, the sound of splintering wood resonating like a thunderclap.

Stepping cautiously into the bathroom, dread coils in my stomach, and then I see her: Bea, sprawled in the bathtub, her once-lively spirit extinguished. The water around her is an unsettling shade of crimson, a shocking and grotesque contrast against the white porcelain fixture. An involuntary gasp escapes my lips as I drop to my knees, my heart racing with horror.

The relentless rush of water from the tap gurgles loudly in the eerie stillness, each drop echoing my mounting despair. With shaking hands, I reach out and turn off the faucet, the abrupt silence amplifying the haunting reality of the scene before me. I cradle her in my arms—her body feels shockingly cold and limp, like a heavy, lifeless doll stripped of warmth and vitality.

I feel tears streaming down my face, hot and uncontrolled as I gather her into my embrace, longing to bring her back to life. Nat rushes to my side, gently pulling me away, a look of devastation etched on her face as she struggles to process the tragedy unfolding before us.

Moments later, the muffled sounds from outside draw a crowd. Our friends spill into the room, their expressions morphing from confusion to horror, tears cascading down their cheeks, painting a picture of utter heartbreak. Time seems to stand still as I feel my emotions drain away, leaving me in a cold, paralysing void.

Overwhelmed by the crushing weight of grief, I stagger back to my room, the oppressive silence echoing in my ears. I reach for my phone, fumbling as I dial Laura's number, my hands shaking uncontrollably. As the call ends, I grab a bottle, desperately seeking solace in the alcohol, hoping it might numb the unbearable ache that threatens to engulf me.

Bucky P.O.V

Two long days have slipped by, each one blending into the next as we seek solace at the bottom of our glasses. The weight of grief hangs heavy in the air as we navigate through this haze of sorrow, following the open casket funeral that feels almost unreal. Koda is sprawled across my bed, his eyes lost in thought, his nose buried in the note that Bea left behind. He picks up her lingering scent from the paper, a ghost of her presence, yet he doesn't grasp the heartbreaking reality—that he will never see her smile again.

I sit in the dim light of the room, the shadows casting a solemn aura around me as I read Bea's note once more, each word etching deeper into my heart:

Dear family,

I love you all so much, and nothing would break my heart more than to hear that something has happened to you. Even you, Sam—yes, I mean it. Remember, don't let the sad memories overtake the beautiful times we shared. Cherish our laughter, our adventures, and those moments when we felt invincible. I promise you, we will be reunited one day, at a time filled with joy and light. Hold onto that hope; it's what keeps us all alive. Until then, take care of each other and keep my spirit alive in your hearts.*

Love from Bea. xx

Her words resonate within me, a bittersweet mantra that both comforts and tortures me. I find it hard to reconcile the joyous memories with this crushing sadness. Each line feels like a reminder of what we've lost, yet somehow, it also lights a flicker of hope. I look at Koda, lost in his thoughts, and realise that we all need to hold onto those cherished moments, to remember Bea not just in grief, but in love and remembrance.

Bea P.O.V

As we tread softly towards the cave, the warm, powdery sand beneath our feet feels almost alive, shifting gently with every step. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing nearby creates a serene symphony, mingling with the whisper of the night air. It is well past midnight, and the only light illuminating our path comes from the ethereal glow of a floating ball of fire, casting flickering shadows, and the moon, with its silvery radiance, drapes us in its tranquil embrace. Memories of the day play in my mind; I awoke with the weight of two long days heavy on my heart since our last meaningful moment together. Wanda's relief at seeing me was palpable, yet beneath the surface lurked a bittersweet tension, a palpable reminder of the impending separation that hovers between us like a dense fog. As we approach the cave's mouth, an unshakeable sense of gravity settles around me.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I ask Wanda, trying to cloak the tremor of concern in my voice with a veil of reassurance. "I know I've asked a lot from you."

"I will be fine," she assures me, though I catch a flicker of uncertainty dancing in her eyes, like a dying star trying to hold onto its light.

"What do they think you are doing right now?" I inquire gently, aware of her internal struggle with the tangled web of truth and obligation.

"They think I'm going to the cliff to say goodbye. They believe I couldn't handle the funeral," she replies, her voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of sorrow that pulls at my heart.

"Funeral?" I echo, a wave of sadness crashing over me as I grapple with the weight of her words.

"It's part of the forgetting period," she explains, her expression grave, shrouded in the shadows of loss.

"Oh, okay," I respond quietly, the gravity of our shared grief settling heavily between us. "Look after them for me."

"Of course," she replies, her eyes searching my face for reassurance, as if trying to anchor herself amidst the storm. I reach into my pocket and produce the second letter, a piece of my heart wrapped in paper, knowing how significant it is for both of us.

"What is this?" she asks, her brow furrowing in curiosity and concern.

"It's my farewell letter to you," I say, my throat tightening with the weight of the moment and the bittersweet ache that follows.

"But—"

"I don't know how long I'll be gone," I interject gently, the urgency of my words pressed into the space between us.

With a heavy heart, I draw her into one last embrace, savouring the warmth and comfort of our friendship before I dive into the shimmering waters below. The ocean greets me with a cool embrace, exhilarating against my skin, and I propel myself upward until I break through the surface, emerging at the hidden beach we discovered long ago, a sanctuary wrapped in nostalgia.

As I wave my hand over the water, I feel the familiar stirring beneath the surface; the rocks shift and encase me, forming a protective barrier that traps me within its embrace. I shake off the droplets that cling to the delicate white lace of my long-sleeved dress, the fabric wrapping softly around me. Lying upon the sand, I close my eyes, allowing the gentle rhythm of the waves to lull me into a sense of tranquillity. I find comfort in the thought that Vision is out there, watching over those I care for, ensuring they remain unburdened by grief in my absence as I prepare to drift into a deep slumber until they truly need me.

"What did you want to talk about?" Wanda's voice pierces through my reverie, calm yet inquisitive.

"I have a strange request for you," I reply, steeling myself for her reaction.

"Okay," she responds, curiosity igniting in her eyes.

"I need you to erase everyone's memories of me," I say, my voice steady despite the weight of my request, each word a fragile thread hanging in the air. "I need them to forget I ever existed."

"What! Why?" she exclaims, her eyes widening, disbelief etching her features.

"I can't explain it fully, but please, you must trust me," I insist, urgency threading through my words.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do anything without understanding your reasoning. What's the real reason?" she presses, determination rising in her voice like a tide.

"Urgh," I struggle to articulate, the enormity of the secret I hold pressing down on me. "The reason is that haunting visions plague me—of a world in ruins, where those I love are lost, and I fear they are bound to me. I am terrified of losing control, of being the catalyst for unimaginable devastation—millions could perish because of my presence. I must vanish for a time. A deep slumber is my only refuge, and if they remember me, they may unknowingly awaken me."

"Okay, I will do it," she concedes, her expression shifting to a mixture of worry and resolve. "But I can't just make them forget you instantly."

"Then I will die," I assert, the finality of my words hanging between us like a storm cloud.

"No, you can't do that," she pleads, the concern in her eyes clearer than ever.

"I won't actually die. I know a plant that grants you the elements of time," I reply, hoping to quell the tempest of fear swirling within her. The conversation lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of our looming choices and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.