The day I thought that would never arrive, arrived: the end of this sequel. Ok, I'll stop talking, hope you like it.

Epilogue, part II: In the eyes of Cole.

I have been crying a half of hour with no stop, thinking about her, about Ben...our friends and the tragic way that everything had ended, How did we get to this?, It wasn't hard to realize now but...before, we would never ever had imagined that things would tourn out that way, How? All seemed so complicated and distressing that never gave us time to look around and realize what was happening.

"I'm sorry about that...," I told her, wiping my face of tears.

Today, are three monts since Phoebe came here and she should be leaving between today and tomorrow, but after I told on her and her addictio (that this time was real), her treatment extended. What worries me, is that there are rumours of a riot and I don't want her to stay here in that case.

It was past midnight, but the thought of missing her, dying if anything get to happen to her, made me wish to meet with her.

"Hi," celebrated Gisselle when she saw me.

I was high: I had never done anything with Phoebe if one of us weren't. I didn't say a word, walked by and uncovered the third Halliwell. I unziped my jeans, pulled her shirt up and took her underwear off, leaving it over her bed. I pulled mine down, and lifted Phoebe in my arms.

"Move," I ordered Helena, making her leave her bed and stop doing the crossword with Gisselle to leave it to us, while Rubi was getting ready for watching.

I made Phoebe lie with her back above the matress and arms behind her head: that would allow her to sleep as I had sex with her. I was really excited, and couldn't resist touching myself at that image infront my eyes.

I introduced one of my fingers to check her and moaned. It was a really good sensation. I groaned again and began to go faster before introducing my third finger, but I didn't want to come by my own: I wanted Phoebe.

"Enough," I said.

I supported her feet below my shoulders and subjected her hips with my hands to get her closer to the edge of the bed. I brought her knees to her chest before trying to push myself but I wasn't succeeding. I managed to put my tip on a hole, but that wasn't the traditional. I tried to move down, but my coordination was dead and Phoebe alerted believing that I wanted to get in there.

"No," she said in a serious tone of voice, strong, aloud. I moved immediately, making her see that I had no intentions of doing that. I respected her, I was cold and distant, but I respected her.

"Let me help," said Rubi anxious to see us in action and took my member to address it to Phoebe's vagina, "I don't have all day," she added pushing my hip forward, but I didn't want to please her so I entered really, really slow.

I hated when others gave me orders.

I could barely keep my rhythm calmed because I had too much energy for going so slowly so I lost my patience and my wishes of frustrating Ruby failed, and I went faster. I was fast, hard, and as deep as I could go: I used to do that every time when I was that high, because my little empathy made me forget that I was hurting Phoebe, even, the sense of the world pain didn't exist for me. It made no sense, that was the reason of why I spent all my days like that: because I didn't want to feel pain anymore.

I pushed further trying and I saw her fits clenching. Her back arched and she closed her eyes as clenched her jaws, in pain.

"Go back to sleep," I asked her, "unless you want to participate and change to another position".

She didn't say a word and tried to relax. We had been having that kind of sex from the day I found out that she wasn't pregnant.

After walking around the center just because, I saw two figures against the wall. I sighed, thinking about how obvious was that everyone did what the wanted in here and the principal didn't know yet. I kept walking, it wasn't a big deal for me passing next to those touching: I only needed to reach the stairs, that was all. As I approached, I could recognize Giovani, and wasn't surprised at all, but when I looked again, I saw Phoebe: and my blood boiled from one second to another.

I saw her closing her legs and I heard him saying:

"You pretend I believe you don't want more?"

I noticed that one if his hands was moving, and that was underneath Phoebe's skirt.

"Go," she moaned, arching a bit.

I clenched my fits, blinded by jealousy and not thinking it twice, I punched Giovani on his nose and took his wrist to take it off Phoebe. I kept hitting him, not thinking about anything else than that his fingers were wet because of her, MY Phoebe. With the woman I loved. I hated him more than ever in my life, and my anger grew when I recognized to myself that I loved her. Both were sick people for messing with a girl ten years younger than us. But she was mine.

As soon as he could, he stood and run away as I crashed Phoebe against the wall softly. I lifted her shirt and began to kiss her, to bit her and unzipped my pants: I knew that she was ready. I lifted her skirt and tangled her legs on my hips, then I supported her back on the wall as began to thrust: I was telling her, that way, that she was mine and the only one who had rights of touching her it was me.

I was the only one who had rights to have her body, and I was disposed to pay all the pains of hell.

"I'll go slower," I assured gasping, and I really tried but I couldn't, so I changed my strategy.

I caressed her clit trying to stimulate her a bit: the only problem was that that, excited me even more. I was about to come and my hands started to move between her legs, frenetically as the ardent feeling on my underbelly. I made her come three times, and Ruby made a groan at the same time than us.

I sighed, supported my forehead against the top bed when I noticed that I hadn't used a condemned condom, and I knew it was better to leave before making the possibilities grow. I pushed once more and left Phoebe's legs. I dressed up, lay her on her bed again and put my pants on before tuck her up and leave the room.

The next morning, I was more conscious of my life and recalled that I had seen something different on her the night before that I didn't pay attention to. But today, I had to check on my theory. I went to Phoebe's room and I didn't see her there, so I supposed that she was at the bathroom.

There was only one shower working and Phoebe's clothes was close, so I knew it was her. I opened the door. I wrapped her waist and made her turn to me. She kept shampooing and I dedicated my time to work. I touched her nipples, her back, her belly several times. I pulled her closer and checked her vagina, touching it softly and finding, effectively, what I thought I had seen before.

I washed my hands and left with my heart broken: Phoebe was pregnant. All her body was telling us that a baby of hers and mine, was growing inside of her ready to see the light of the day in a little time. It was determined: if Phoebe couldn't do drugs before, now she couldn't even think about them. I had to protect our son, and I preferred not telling her because I knew she would freak out. It had to be me who had to handle the situation now, because nothing assured me that it was possible for that child to survive...I had to be honest and to know that she had at least two or three months, and with all what she used to consume, the chances that our baby had to live were almost null.

But I wasn't giving up.

When she got into the room, she sat next to me and I gave her a shot of placebo with a little of whatever to fool her: but she wasn't stupid, and noticed it immediately. Not the change itself, but a change.

I kept her like that for two months, pendent of not giving her anything and if I gave her, it was only a trick. I tried to distract her with sex or some little jobs she could do to earn some money. She didn't ask why I was doing all that because it was our deal and, for me, it was better to handle it all alone, to suffer alone than making her cry too. I wouldn't bear that.

"I was happy, I won't lie," I told her playing with a little flower growing on the grass near, those I had planted myself, "I was incredible happy at imagining a life with you, a family with you and...I was scared honey, I didn't know how to react because I was terrified and I regret it, I do, if I had been braver, smarter, more mature and, you'd be here with me today, celebrating your twentieth birthday with your son in your arms.

I felt a knot, a breathtaking pain through my heart at that perfect scene: the most perfect and amazing of all, but it wasn't anything but a dream, part of my imagination, an utopia that would never happen and my heart would always dream with.

Although it knew that it was impossible.

It was almost four in the morning when Phoebe appeared in my room whisperin my name. I knew that something like this would happen between yesterday, today or tomorrow, it was the las day of her period or something like that, because although she was pregnant, she was still bleeding and that made me freak out at the thought of one of those days taking my son's life away.

But they didn't: every time that she came here, I confirmed that our baby was still with us.

"Cole," she whispered, and I covered her mouth brutally.

"I heard you," I told her standing, "I don't have enough for two," I lied and although I knew that she knew it, I insisted, "I'm sorry, there's just for me".

I sat, shot a and stood to check that everything was going well. I lay her on the bed softly; since that day I treated her carefully, more than what was needed, worried about her life and our little one's. Both were in a hard position, too risky to accept it. I lifted her shirt and caressed her hips, stopping by her belly, at our son. I kissed her, trying to feel a kick, a move, anything but I had never felt them and least now.

I don't know if she had felt them before, but I know that she learned about it a few days ago, not more than two weeks. I don't know when, we never talked about that.

I'm scared about her reaction. She doesn't tell me if she's afraid, angry, if she doesn't want to have it. She says nothing and I don't want to ask her becuase I don't want to push her, I feel out of place, with no rights, I onlye feel that I'm the only one who has to protect her: because I ruined her life. I tried to not think about that and less about a world of Phoebe hating me and wishing had never met me, so I ketp in what I was. I was stil sober because I never got to the euphoria until checking that our son was still there, Why? Why...because I was too afraid of falling inlove with her, because doing it with no drugs in the way, would be making love.

I lifted her pajama, spread her legs and my spirit fell. I touched, locked, checked, once, twice, a million times: but there was nothing. The violet color, the signals, they were gone. My child was gone.

My child was dead.

I had never felt a deepest pain, my heart had never stopped beating like this before, and I had never felt more devasted and empty in my whole life: never as cold and bitter, so closed to everything, so artificial. I asked her with a gesture if our baby was still there and she took my hand and put it overher belly, telling me that he was.

I closed my eyes, I didn't want to look at her. There were no doubts, it was dead. I decided that the best for Phoebe was giving birth, or she would die too.

"Heroin?," I asked her.

I didn't let her reply and gave her a mixture of things that I had ready when the day arrived, though I had all my hopes in not having to use it. I wanted to forget about everythiing, about and make her do it too, to help her to escape all this pain. We took our clothes off and I let her ride me, but I didn't touc her, I never looked at her: it hut me so much to know that she was expecting a child that would never had the chance to see the day's light, and that all my hopes and dreams, my stupid utopia of our life together, had died with it.

I took control and went faster, I wanted her to hurt me with her nails: I wanted her to make me pay. And she, she wanted me tu punish her with the pain that my thrusts made her feel. I wanted to cry but no: I had to be the man, I had to protect her, I had to stay strong.

Then, she took her clothes and left. She didn't say a world, neither I. I didn't feel strong enough to face her tears and I was scared because I didn't know if to her, it was a good thing. But I knew that it wasn't, because I knew her: she considered herself a mother since the moment she learned that she was pregnant and now, she wasn't one anymore. She would never be one, I didn't know if she was able to handle that sad truth.

Later, almost two hours that I spent crying with my eyes cosed, Giovani appeared to tell us that he wanted us in the backyard: we were hostages; Phoebe and I never noticed, lost in our sorrow, but we had been under their will a lot of days. I did what he asked me, because I knew that the girls had to go too and I had to be there to take care of them.

I was walking when I heard a scream that shattered my whole being, and not thinking it twice, I ran as fast as I could to find Phoebe lying on the floor, closing her eyes and holding her belly with her legs covered with blood. I took her in my arms and ran desperately to the nursery, as Ruby, Gisselle and Helena. Giovani was surprised so he didn't say anything but sent one of his gorillas after us: but we didn't let him come in. He stood out, alone.

This is one of the most anguishing moments of my life. I just lay Phoebe over the bed and one of the nurses is checking on her, but I already know what she is going to say: abortion.

"I need you to leave us alone," said the woman.

I stared at her, and didn't get up. The others didn't move neither and she kept doing her job, not asking us again. I waited terrified, patienly to see Phoebe's eyes opening again. I took her hands in mine, unable to do another thing.

I was scared, of all. I felt guilty, a lot. I was destroyed, completely.

I was praying. Praying after so many, many years, I had come back to God: I was asking him to protect her, telling him that despite we had betrayed one another, he hadn't to leave her too. I begged for our child, for a minimal hope, a chance, the last one maybe...I asked him for their lives, because know, I dared to recognize to him that I loved her: I loved Phoebe more than myself, more than anyone else. I wanted her alive, healthy, I wanted her happy: with or without me, and that was all what I aske for: Phoebe's happiness, the life she deserved and, although it sounded cruel, that she felt disavowal for me and our baby, so she would move on with her life and don't carry the biggest pain that a woman could have, as the death of a child was.

The woman looked at us, shook her head, walked. The girls were in silence, all in their own minds.

"I don't know if you knew that your rommate is pregnant or...that she was," said after a while.

I didn't reply. I didn't move a single muscle, so I don't know what was the other's reaction and if they said somehting, I didn't hear. The lady kept talking, I didn't listen, because there was nothing that she could say that new or would heal my heart: because I knew that this, was only the beggining of the end, of one so uncertain for me and for everyone.

I waited. I needed make sure that Phoebe was fine, that she was surviving to this: I needed to see her, because I didn't know when would be the last time that I could do it and every moment seemed the last goodbye not being it in fact and, then, I wondered if we would had to say goodbye for real or if we would be like this forever: afraid, but together..

And after what seemed ages, centuries, Phoebe opened her eyes.

I didn't release her hand, I didn't stop stroking it, but I hadn't the nerves to look at her because I didn't want to see death on them, I didn't want to see the pain trapped in her orbs, one I had avoided all the time: I never looked at her eyes, afraid of seeing her broken heart, and more than that, to see how much she loved me and recognize that I would die for her.

More than once.

"I thought you woulnd't wake up ever again", cried Gisselle.

"You gave us a scare," complained Rubi idly.

I blinked, glancing, and she looked at me. I supported my chin over the union of our hands and I saw the woman approach.

"I have bad news for you".

"How long have I been here?", murmured irritated, looking at Helena.

"Nearly two hours," said Helena.

"And your baby has been dead for four days", added Giselle.

I was about to correct her and ask her to look at me too, it was mine also, but it didn't worth. I shut my eyes and felt tears rolling down my face. I couldn't help but stay, stay and see how much she was suffering. Now was real. It was my fyalt I should have protected her better...and our baby, kept her away from the beggining if I...if she had never tried a single shot...our baby would have never existed because it was her stubborness what made me get closer to get.

But I don't regret having met her, loving her, but haven't helped her to stay away from me.

From this.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were pregnant?", asked the woman.

"When can I go?", she asked, ignoring her again with her voice broken and her gaze lost in the space.

"You still have to expel the dead fetus".

Phoebe petrified. She stared at me and I couldn't look at her. The woman explained things that Phoebe wasn't paying attention at, but I was: I wanted to know what was goign to happen in case that any abnormality got to happen. She offered her anesthesia but she didn't want it, and I didn't make her. During the wait I did everything that was possible to help her to feel less bad, I caressed her back, I massaged her from her tighs to her neck, I tried to warm her. The other girls helped too and I could feel the piercing eyes of Helena, feeling sorry for us. Phoebe was miserable, screamed, cried, sat and groaned in pain, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

The woman had recommended her to stand and walk, that way she would dilate faster. But she refused, again, and again, I didn't force her. After ten hours when my heart ripped and bleed with no stop, she held my hand and closed her eyes, and I knew that the moment had arrived. They asked her to push, but she didn't want to.

I didn't want her to do it neither.

"Phoebe, you have to at some point," said Helena with a sad voice.

I made her a gesture to ask her to leave us alone, she was my responsability. I released her hand and sat behind, leaning her over and taking her both hands to make her feel safer. I sighed, I pursed my lips to not let a sob out and leaned my heaed over her shoulder. I was devasted. She felt like pushing again, I knew it because she tensed, but she didn't push and the woman tried to approach, but Phoebe gave an agressive kick to the air, and dedicated her a killer look.

"Breath," I whispered in her ear when I felt a spasm from her, "Squeeze my hand, and push..."

She did what I asked, but she didn't complain. She just moved a little forward, and made the best she could. I hated watching her like that, suffering, tired, but mostly, I hated the fact that after all this effort, it wouldn't worth. We would end up empty, with nothing...alone.

"I see the head", anounced the woman.

Phoebe hid her face on my chest and a cry from her mouth made me chill: it was another contraction. She didn't want to push, I knew it, but she had to...I couldn't face losing her too. I caressed her hands, trying to give her some love and comprenhension, then, I whispered.


I felt her nodding and I hugged her tigher, encouraging her to push for the second time. In this ocassion, she took more time than before and I saw her pressing her eyelids, pursing her lips and puffing her cheeks, while almost sat on the bed before letting lying over me again, exhausted.

Her breath was uneasy as I caressed her hands, back, belly. Another contraction came, but she pretended that it didn't. I squeezed her hand, encouraging her to push again.

"No," she begged me with almost no voice, "Plea..."

"Do it," I asked interrupting her with all the softness and sweetness that I could gave her.

It wasn't easy for me neither, but I had to be strong, lead her, help her. The steps from the woman approached and for the grimace that Phoebe did, I knew that she was about to yell at her or try to kick her again. It wasn't that I cared about her, but I did care about Phoebe and if anything happened to her, the only one able to save her life would be the woman.

"No," I asked her, for the same reasons.

She pursed her lips and made a face of anger. Then, tried to squeeze my hand again but it was impossible to get closer. She pushed for the third time, for long time, more than the first two. She bit my shirt, her teeth squeaked and I was concerned for her jaws.

She was screaming, crying, yelling with no control. Her eyes were filled with tears and when her shouts broke in the bottom of her sore throat, the woman spoke:

"It's a boy".

My inner self smiled. A boy...a son. The little guy I'd teach so many things, who would be the little spoiled mommy's boy, also of her aunts and great grandmother...beloved and adored by her sister. A son of me and Phoebe, that we would never get to meet. I wonder, What would he has liked?, Sports?, Table games?, What if he wanted to dance ballet?, Or to be a cop?, Musician?, Ingenieer?...Would he has been tempered? Would he has liked helping people?, Loved learning new languages? Would he has hated going to school? And what about her birthday's present, would he has chosed a bike or a gameboy?

I will never get to know that.


My thoughts dispelled when I felt Phoebe squeezing my hand and hit a jump, opening her eyes frightened when a pair of scissors separated her from our baby. She seemed shocked, as if was about to faint or get up and destroy the whole room. The woman took our child, I stayed with Phoebe until she finished the delivery. She cried with no stop, I had her in my arms, taking her hands to give her strength, one that even I had. I held her stronger, because even I couldn't stop crying hysterical and put my face on her shoulder, as I rocked us both, back and forth. I held our hands over her chest, and we remained like that, as if there was nothing else in the world that this unbearable pain.

"She should say goodbye", dviced us getting back inside, holding my little dead creature in her arms.

I know that that comment increased Phoebe's hate and, in fact, mine too.

She stretched her arms, separating our hands and receiveing the tiny size of our son in them. I wanted to hold him, but I wasn't taking that moment from her...I could wait. He was so small as I had never seen a human being, and I wrapped Phoebe with my arms again, to hold our baby boy too. He was beautiful and perfect ...and he was ill. I knew it was possible, but I never imagined it in that way and I couldn't bear to see it, but she looked calm ... she had always known that he wasn't healthy. However, I tried to be strong and continued watching ... they were so alike, he had her innocence, her carisma, the shape of her face. I didn't dare move, even though my legs were heavy and my arms tired, and she didn't neither... she might had her legs cramped, stiff, but kept them open.

We remained in silence, the three together, the three mourning. There was only silence, and was the best...because if the miracle of hearing a single weak sound from our baby that would give us hope happened, I wanted to hear it.

But we never heard anything.

"I promise that I had never felt such a pain," I told her not wiping my tears; it was useless, because they kept appearing with no stop. It happened last year at her first anniversary, it happens today when it's her second and it will happen again, every year, until the day I can meet her again, "I really wanted to make a family with you, it doesn't matter how...weird it sounds".

Some hours have passed since Phoebe gave birth, and I'm trying to be a man, a support, and I'm trying to find a way to get out of here. I asked Giovani, ridiculous I know, but he was the leader of all this madness and he had still a little respect for me and let me go. I wanted to bury my son, give him holy sepulchre and show him that afterr all, I love him.

When entering the room, she was lying on the bed, hugging our son and rocking him. I stared at her and our baby. She was tired, haggard, pale and with her eyes red and swollen. She looked weak, small as ever, fragile as always. She was still lying over that blood-stained bed and the shirt that I have gave her, or rather, the one she took from my room one day, was between brown and dark red, tinged with dried blood. It broke my heart, it if was possible that it kept beraking. I can't believe all what have happened in so little time...I can't believe that we lost the proof that our love was true.

I walked up to her, I was defeated but I couldn't show signs of it. I sat her and tried to hold her while she stretched her legs a bit. Once she sat down, I put a hand on her knee and the other on her ankle, pulling her cramped and numbed right leg to react. I did the same with the other. I took a towel that I was carrying with me and moistened it with hot water to clean her a little. I caressed her skin with it, showing her how much I loved her, being gentle, sweet and delicate, almost for the first time. I wanted to tell her that protecting her was my job and that I always would. Then I took another towel to dry her skin before dressing her up. She observed me, somewhat surprised but grateful. She had our son in her arms yet, and she wouldn't realease him for the world. I dressed her, I made sure that everything was fine with her clothing and that her sweat pants didn't hurt her stomach. The time of leaving the baby and put her shirt on arrived, and although it killed her, she tended him to me.

"Hold him," she asked.

Her voice sounded broken, it was the first time that she spoken after asking me "no" before pushing for the last time.

When I felt my baby on my arms, my eyes filled with tears that I didn't let drop. I held him tighter, I wanted to keep him warm, made him feel safe. I outlined his nose with my finger, it was so small...and her hand, I put it over mine. I recalled the first time I had my little girl on my arms, she was little but not as him, I wanted to hear my son's cries, I wanted to see him stretching his arms to his mother...I wanted to be nervous, to don't know what to do and tend him to her, smiling at see, that at the moment of their embrace, he calmed down.

But that would never happen. We were forbidden, the three of us.

"Take," I said with my voice cracking, handing her a sanitary napkin in case of a new bleeding.

She took it and when she was ready, she tied her sweaty and wet hair.

"Help me to stand up".

That sounded like an order. She never gave commands, but I knew that she wasn't the same girl that came here months ago. I held her with my free hand and I didn't let her move, even when her feet touched the floor.

"My dairy. I'll go for it, wait here".


If she thought that I'd leave her go in this conditions, groggy, alone in this place, she was crazy. If she wanted her diary we would go was stupid going for a notebook, but for her, it meant something important, otherwise, she would never had mentioned it. I helped her to walk, almost avoiding her to do so and carrying her on my arms.

When we got to the room she took her diary, saved a paper there and then put the notebook between her shirt and jacket, and we were ready.

I positioned her before me to hold her, but she wanted to walk. Stubborn. She was holding our son, I was holding her. I led her to a hall and I sat her on the floor, protecting them from the broken glass that were going to fly after breaking the big window that I was going to use to make us escape from here.


I took the fire extinguisher and took advantage of the situation to discharge all the pain I felt in the destruction of the cristal. I left the extinguisher fall, I jumped to hide in a wall to avoid getting hurt: not for me, for her. I needed to be ok if I wanted to take care of her.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. I cleaned the are of pieces of glass. I made her embrace me from my back and held her from her legs before as she held our baby. I led them to an alley, we crossed some broken bars and finally got to a street. I released her, and asked almost rutinarily, more focused in what to do now, if she was fine.

"Taxi!," she told me.

She was terrible. But at least, she had energy, although a bit.

I sat in the backseat, I received her in my arms and she leaned on my chest. She fell asleep. She seemed an angel, one I didn't deserve. She was so beautiful, more than any woman.

When arrived to the mortuary, I sat her on a chair before going to the counter. The guy asked me what I wanted, I hesitated: I knew what I needed but I hadn't the nerves to ask for it. I pointed our son that Phoebe protected in her arms, and he understood. He took several minutes, horrible, eternal, short minutes before coming back. He showed me a white coffin, beautiful, unique and perfect. I didn't want to study it more, I didn't dare to say anything and just paid for it before leaving. It was almost squared with a little cross in the top. It gave me peace, painful peace.

We left the place and Phoebe adressed to the church. It wasn't a place I'd like to go, it had been a while since God and I had no relationship, but he had let Phoebe survive...maybe, and just in case, I wanted to say thanks. I don't know. I took her in my arms, she was suffering a lot walking, and regardless her stubborness, I carried her there. We came in. I let her stand when we got to the priest. I talked to him, nothing important, as she remained in my arms, held for me.

The man stared at us with deep sadness, but respected our and didn't ask anything that wasn't necessary.

"What is the name of this son of God?," asked us.

Phoebe and I looked at eachother, we nad no idea what his name was.

"It's good that you name him, so the wound will heal one day and you will be able to remember him that way forever".

I thought that he was right, except for the wound healing part. It would never heal. Ever. Nor with more children, nor being apart from Phoebe, nor with a million dollars: the wound would never disappear, and although It would be some times that it blaze less, it would always burn. I thought about my father, and how much he meant for me. He had been the most important person in my life, who had raised me and from one day to another, had died. My mother never got over it and although she did all what she could to play but roles, I have always felt that I need him here with me, maybe with him here, I would have never got to this point. Maybe.

"Benjamin," I replied not thinking it twice, "after my father," I explained to Phoebe, and she nodded not moving, not saying a word, just looking at my eyes with no response from them.

"Benjamin Turner," she added.

"Benjamin Marie Turner-Halliwell", I corrected, "Your middle name after you".

I knew that Marie wasn't a very good name for a boy, althought in France is used for males and females but since we're not in France, it doesn't sound good but...but I wanted our Ben to represent us. He represented us.

I held her tighter and with our hands tangled, we made a bed for our child as the priest prayed for him and his soul. Phoebe's face was emotionless, she wasn't crying, she just stared and I didn't express more than her.

As soon as he finished, we left. We didn't say thank you, but he knew that we were thankful. He didn't say goodbye, he just saw us walking sowly, like denying our destiny. Phoebe was carrying Ben, and both, his coffin.

We took another taxi, in silence, embraced. We didn't notice and we were already at the cemetery. We talked all the way, with monosyllabes and concluded that the perfect place for the coffin, was the Turner's mausoleum: in the family lasted only two people besides me, and those were my mom and Johanna. There wouldn't be questions, and we weren't taking the risk of leaving this creature on Halliwell's land.

"I need a gravestone, for yesterday," I said as soon as I found the figure of the keeper of the place that I knew, and he knew me. He nodded taking his hat off in respect of our fallen angel.

He made no questions.

"Benjamin Marie Turner-Halliwell. 2010. Martyr. Son. Angel," muttered Phoebe and I didn't know if she really spoke or not, and what told me that she did, was seeing Hank writting it down.

Both waited without looking, without speaking. Time floated in the air with no sense. The clock hands were not going either to the right or left, just not moving. The only thing we could hear was the sound of stone being carved and with each blow against the marble, pieces dropping to the ground, the pieces of what was left of us falling to the floor.

"It is time," he told us, indicating the space where the grave of our son would be placed, with him inside.

And it was time to say goodbye.

Phoebe looked at me before nodding with her eyes filled of tears. She handed me our son and I turned around to leave with him, it would be our first and last time alone, father and son only.
When I started walking around the ground, I began to imagine my little boy was merely asleep. I started to rock him on the road, pretending, even to know that it did nothing but lie to myself, that at that time, Phoebe was resting after giving birth and I meeting my newborn son.

"Don't leave her alone," I asked, taking his little hand as he could not take mine, "She needs you as much as me ...and I know it's not fair to ask you, our son, to take charge of us, so I won't ask you to stay for me... I ask you not leave her, that always accompany her,because I know I have no right to complain, but she does: she lost you not being able to do anything about it, while I lost you because I didn't take care of you before".

My voice began to shiver and could not help but cry. My legs no longer held me: I'm not that strong. I knelt on the floor and contracted my face in pain while I let go all my sorrow into tears that I didn't try to hold.

"Who am I fooling?," I said hugging him tightly, "Please son, come your eyes, don't keep playing like this...," I begged trying to warm him, trying to, somehow, make him come back with me, "I promise that I will be a good father, I promise that I'll get your sister back, but please, don't go...nothing will be the same without you. I need you, your mother needs you, please, your eyes..."

The silence of the place did nothing but confirm that fate was writen with no chance of being deleted and writing again, it was done with blood, with the blood of an innocent who paid for what wasn't his fault. I felt that the pain was too heavy to bearn with it and even though I had my son in my arms for hours, days or years, he would never come back. And for him and for Phoebe, I had to let him go in peace: both needed to move on in their lives, and I shouldn't interfere.

I got up with very, excessively difficult and kissed his forehead with my lips trembling. I smiled, for the first time in so long time. I returned to the mausoleum, Phoebe was staring on something and I touched her shoulder awakening her from her reverie. I left Benjamin in her arms, it was her turn to say goodbye. I waited for her to leave, but she didn't, she only whispered:


Her voice resonated in my bones, something in her had broken forever. Forever. She hugged Ben and kissed him before letting her tears fall. She took his hand in hers.

"I'm sorry," she said this time kissing both of his hands and I gave a step to approach her, but gave up: she needed a moment alone, to say goodbye openly.

She took his little feet, wich also kissed after her tiny fingers while my hear broke again. She began to walk with him around the mausoleum to wrap herself in my arms. Her attitude didn't surprise me and I fastened the contact. Her delicated arms began to rock him and I followed her as we went to the small coffin a few feet from us.

"The other nite dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms...," she whispered, and I wanted to ask her to stop because her voice hurt me: but I didn't dare, "When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken...and I hung my head and cried".

Her ankles bent, I prevented her from falling and hugged her as our son. I tried not to cry at the sad scene we were starring.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, When skies are grey...", continued moving slowly again, on her way to the crib where Benjamin would sleep forever.

Her voice trembled, her tones were sharp,choppy, but she didn't stopped. She was full of love and her heart... broken.

"You'll never know...", said pursing her lips, and I knew that she couldn't take it anymore, "how much I love you...please...", she said looking at the ceiling, waiting for a miracle, "don't take my little sunshine away..."

She hid her face in my chest and bit my shirt. I put our son between our hands, as we did in the church, and we put them over the little bed in where our baby would rest: we didn't want to leave him.

"You'll never much we love you", she added taking her hand off the little white coffin, "My sweet sunshine...mommy and daddy will always love you..."

Said that, she stopped crying. I took my hand off and now, he was inside. He was wrapped in a beautiful silk handkerchief that had fiven us the priest, and had traces of our tears in his face. He had his eyes closed, hands curled and bearing of a prince.

"I love you," I said for the first time to him, unfortunately, for the last one too.

I looked at him melancholic, noting that now he would rest with his grandfather, my father, my heroe.

We went out and moved forward. I wanted to carry her, but she didn't let me. I didn't force her. I saw her fall, screaming hysterically. She was beating herself, pulling her hair. She was desperate, destroyed, dying before my eyes. I took her by her wrist, trying to protect her from herself. She screamed so loud that made me shake up. I rocked her, she could hardly breath. I took her face between my hands and I kissed her on her wet lips.

"Why?," I asked hitting the ground furiously, ready to shout and complain to heaven why things had to go that way...but it didn't worth it, "Why?," I whispered this time, pursing my lips that were salt from all my tears, useless tears. Useless.

I stood there, quiet, remembering some scenes, her voice...I was still able to do it clearly, but I was afraid because I knew that soon, in a future, I wouldn't be. I was afraid, because I didn't want her to turn into a memory, blurry memory.

We were at the center again, she was a real zombie. She had no emotions, she was pale and cold. Screaming made us run. Everything was flying through the aire. She became to go faster and I noticed why, so I did it too and with all my force until I got to take Giovani's from his shoulders and take him off from Rubi.

I didn't take care of her because I knew that Phoebe was and my job now was stopping him. In a few, some guys from my room gathered, I thought to save him, but no: they were as tired as everyone here, and helped me to tie his hands and legs. We dragged him inside; I was afraid of leaving Phoebe alone but I knew that with pervert away she would be fine: because she wasn't part of any group, so ther wouldn't be any kind of revenge against her. Unless they wanted to mess with me by taking her, so I tried to hurry up.

I learned about Rubi's dead, also Gisselle's, and I'm not ready to accept it yet. I ran to their room, I need to know of Phoebe and Helena. When I came in, she had something in her hands and tried to jump from her bed, but I received her in my arms. She tangled her legs around my hips, her fingers on my hair.

"Are you wounded?," she asked me immediately, almost spitting the question, taking my face in her hands as she caressed my cheeks.

"No," I replied low, very low, almost whispering. Then, I lay her down on the bed, "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine".

I knew that she was lying, but I hadn't the chance to tell her nothing because a little groan emitted by Helena called my attention. I released Phoebe and ran to my friend at realizing that she had an empty syringe over the bad, and everything made sense: when we talked, she used to say that if she had to kill herself, she would do it with a syringe full of air. Hours before, when Ben died, I thought that there was no way for things to get worse, but destiny proved me over and over that it was possible, that there were ways, and that it would just get worse.

I sat next to Helena, I hugged her with deep love and devotion: she was my little sister, she was leaving, the girl that had been there for me...the one who had did all what she could to help me and Phoebe to hurt us the least, and who I just, would never stop missing.

"Go with them," I told her giving her some heat; if she had to go, she had to feel loved.

"She's leaving, right?," asked me Phoebe with a childish voice.


After a while that I spent embracing Helena, she spoke. It was almost a sigh, actually, her last.


My face was watered, but I didn't stop stroking her. No one said nothing. I felt that she was stopping breathing, and if I paid more attention, Phoebe was crying too.

Time passed slow, anguishing, hopelessly painful and unstoppable. I stood, Helena was gone, but Phoebe was still here and I had to take care of her now; there wasn't time for mourning...and later would be the time to cry my heart out. I took her up and sat her on the bottom bed, then, I lay Helena on the top bed. I covered her with a sheet before whispering "I love you".

I felt Phoebe's hands caressing my shoulders, her tender lips kissing one of them. I took her hand and led her back to the bed; she shouldn't be standing. I lay her carefully, to the wall's side, so I could lie to the edge and avoid her to move. I made her use my chest as pillow and she wrapped her arms around me.

I wondered what day it was. It was something that I didn't use to pay attention at, but too busy trying to distract my mind, I started to think. It was two, November 2, Phoebe's birthday. I felt rage, because it was her birthday and my little girl had lost what she loved the most and suffered as never before. I decided that then, at knowing that we had so little time to spend together, doing something to show her that I had always loved her.

"Happy birthday, Phoebe," I whispered in her ear after checking on my watch, it was the first time that I pronounced her name on her presence.

I felt her tremble, I know that it was hard to her to believe that I could know something like that, and that I was calling her by her name. I regret haven't pronounced her name each time I had the chance.

"I would have loved to have made this day a happy one for you," I added honestly, giving her too, that side of me that no one had got to know, telling her that it was hers, "but it's too late, even to give you a little present...the garden plants are all dead, I can't even give you a flower...," I thought sadly, bringing up all the romanticism that I had hidden after my divorce with Beatriz.

"Do you know what I want from you?", she asked surprising me with her confidence, at that new tone of voice so vivid that she was using. I followed her game.

"No, tell me".

"There are three things," she I explained focused.

I sat on the bed with curiosity, paying all the world's attention on her, all the attention I hadn't gave her before.

"The first is the one I want now. The other two, I will say you later".

"I'm listening".

Phoebe made that face of concentration that always made laugh, and my heart bounced when noticed that I would never see that face again.

"I have always...I always wanted to know...I want to know how it feels to make love, Cole. The real love. How does it feel when the butterflies in my stomach are reciprocated and...when somebody seriously touches me. I, for once, want to feel one with my partner, not a toy..."

My conscience hit me when I heard that. A toy, she was a person, a heart and a soul, and I, for coward, for being afraid of falling in love with her...had treated her as a toy.

"That every sensation is real, that it comes from depths, without drugs, Cole, with no witnesses...and I want to make it with you..."

I pursed my lips, let a sob escape from my mouth, hearing that was almost dying. With me. Phoebe wanted to make love with me, it was the only thing she was asking, it was something that most part of couples considered part of their lives and we had hidden all this time. I nodded, I could't say no because I had been wanting the same for a long time...and now, that all barriers were down, there weren't reasons for not doing it.

I said nothing, What could I say at that? What she was asking me, was my heart, and I was giving it to her, it didn't matter how much it would hurt when she had to leave with it and I had to stay here, alone.

But I was taking the risk, only to make her happy.

I took her soft chin with one of my hands and I kissed her on the lips. It was slow, as ever, shy, scared, but took confidence soon: every move made me feel more and more sad. Because I loved her, I finally admitted it, and I didn't want to lose her, I didn't want hurting her anymore...but it was too late.

She let herself go and my tongue made its way on her sweet mouth as my hands, shaking as it was my first time, explored her warm body. Her creamy skin hypnotized my senses and made want to go further, taste her, become one with her forever. I began to slide her shirt up, trying to get more. The temperature was increasing in the room and my mouth went to her neck, following the way her neck bones made and then, kissing her lobe. I couldn't help but bit it playfully, what I did again when I heard her loud guttural moan from his mouth.

I felt more active then and started to spread kisses on her shoulders. I heard her gasping when I stopped at to pull up her thighs and made them surround my hips. I made some space between her breast and she leaned her head back, letting me move easier. I wanted to touch more, but her brassier was in the middle of us, so in a quick move, I took it off. I felt her shake below and that made me feel tenderness and devotion. She smelled blood and sweat, her face and neck tasted salty by her tears, but anyway, I had never felt her better than today. Never, until today, I had taken the time to save in my memory all the sensations shared together, and I lamented that I would never be able to do it again. I don't know what made us know what this was our last time together, but we did.

We always knew.

I slid my hand trough her back, pulling her closer to my chest and massaging it a bit her tense muscles: after a so long day, there wouldn't be a part of her body aching. Phoebe seemed to wake up after a while and feeling her lips over my torso was the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. Her fingers her playing with the hair of my chest, making figures, playing and following her childish spirit that had always been there and she had hidden forever.

Her touch advanced to my chin and I saw her smiling and make a silly face when my stubble made tickles in her face. It was fun, to me too. I pulled her sweat pants slowly, the same ones I had put on her hours ago and I lay her on the mattress. I freaked out. I was deeply nervous, I didn't know if I had to keep going or not, How sore she would be? What if I hurt her? What if something happened because of me?, it wasn't right to do this, I loved her it was true and I wanted to make love with her that was true also but..

Her hands took mine, whose were tense and stiff, and dragged them to her hips, encouraging me to take off her pants. She led my hands, I didn't know how to react and she made me took them off. She jumped a bit and I put my palms on her hips.

I stopped to look at her.

Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen, but her lips had a weak smile, calmed, not as her chest that didn't stop going up and down with no coordination. Her bones were buried in her skin, not as much as before, here belly was still a little swollen, not a lot, only a bit, and her breast were a little bigger than months ago. She was staring at me with expectation, she was here but also, in her own mind.

I love when she does that, when she fluctuates between here and there, when she let me glimpse what is thinking but she says nothing, not hiding from me that she's reflecting.

I leaned to kiss her forehead, because I couldn't resist my desire of kissing her forever.

For all eternity.

I kissed her nose, deposited a tender kiss on her lips and then went to her bellybutton. I closed my eyes, impotent: our Ben wasn't there anymore and he would never be, and, I had not even the consolation of having him on the next room sleeping on his crib. I felt rage and impotence, Why he had to go? Why that way? Why him and not me? Phoebe would have been so much happy with him than with me and I...I would have gave my life to save him and protect them from heaven. Heaven? Was I serious? I had no rights to go heaven. I had destroyed my family, lost Johanna, killed my son and...Phoebe.

I had no right to anything.

I caressed her belly, showing her how thankful I was. Begging her pardon. I took her hands, she tangled her fingers in mine and I supported my knees on the bed, one each side of her waist. Phoebe broke our union to unzip my jeans, somewhat desperate at first, but then calmed down and was slow until we both divest of my pants and underpants, and I took off my shirt.

She looked up and smiled. My arms were shivering, fearful, and my eyes didn't stop releasing rivers. I kissed her lips again, almost crushing her by my weight. I gasped, a mixture of pain and effort of not crushing her completely. She wiped my tears with a gentle caress and kissed the tip of the nose. I smiled, she was too tender for her own good and that pleased me: I laughed slowly, I wish our relationship had been like this from the beggining.

I caressed her tired legs making circles with my fingers on them before going to her knees. I felt a chill when I saw her white pale skin stained with dried blood. I spread her legs carefully expecting for a complaint or comment: but she said nothing. I hesitated, but I decided to keep going, I don't know why. No, Iknew why: I wanted because I wanted to give her her present that, at the end, was more mine than hers.

I steeled myself and brought one of my fingers to her bottom, introducing it slowly. I alerted immediately when I her her moaning loudly, and I couldn't decided if it was pain or pleasure. I was more clam when I saw that she covered her mouth to hide a mischievous smile, but still, I thought that it wasn't a game to be taken that way. I grabbed her face with my other hand, making her look at me, and for the first time, I dared to look at her in the eyes.

Our eyes met.

For the first time after we started our relatinoship, I stared at her eyes and I wished having done that more often. They were beautiful, as I recalled them from the first time we have met and I had promised to myself that I wasn't enjoying them never again. Because they were sacred. They were the window of her soul and I, I didn't deserve her soul, I always knew, but I couldn't help it and get it, destroying it in the way.

My Phoebe nodded and took my hand in hers. She smiled with confidence and peace, and I believed her. I couldn't doubt anything from those brown eyes. I took a deep breath, frowned and closed my eyes, settling between her legs. And it happened again: when I opened my eyes, she was staring straight. I told her, not saying a word, that I loved her. And I don't know how but she understood and I knew that she felt the same. She dropped a tear and bit her lips, shaking a bit by the emotion: but the visual contact, we never lost it. She looked so happy, but I don't know if she was happier than me, who for the first time, had said those words to a woman filled of meaning: and I hadn't spoken even.

She snorted when I stopped, about to push myself: she was nervous, I was too. It was our first time, we had never made love before.

I asked with my eyes if I could move or not, now were them who talked for us, with no fear. She said yes and I went further, promising that I wasn't introducing more than my tip, just in case. The grimace of pain, the wail from the pit of her stomach and the contraction of her face that I had never seen before, only were surpassed for the Ben's episode. Thousand of tears fell from her eyes inmedately, one after another like competing for getting out faster. I wanted to go back, what I had feared had happened but she moaned louder when I tried to get out, shaking her head. She took my hand, she encouraged me. I hated hurting her but the sense of being inside of her, no, with her, was priceless. And I felt like a bastard thinking that way, feeling good while she was suffering but I couldn't fool myself: it was nothing superior, even heaven, nor hell itself, than Phoebe.

Our eyes connection said it all. Everything. Even what we knew that we couldn't say, even that we had no idea that we could get to feel: everything was trasmited, there were no secret, we were only one person split in two. One soul united for the first time after so many years lost. Her crying made me want to stop, so I did, trying to make her believe that I couldn't go further: but she didn't believe me. She smiled and pushed my hips with her hand. I snorted when she descovered me and ready to cry of impotence, I pushed to her bottom.

Her change and mine surprised me, although I didn't doubt that having suffered and lost so many loved ones hadn't turned us into brand new people. Now, we were completely together. She leaned her head back and I put my hands on her neck to help her. I didn't want to move, I could see that she wasn't ready and what confirmed it was that she was still as ever.

I kissed her cheeks and made a way of kisses to her breasts. The softness of her skin, her warmth and her curves decorating her body were an incalculable piece of art. Only being there, with her, made me feel a sinner, Should a simple mortal had acces to that jewel? I don't know, but if loving her was a sin, I was disposed to pay all the pain of hell.

I want to move, I want to go beyond, but I owe her respect: I won't move until she tells me that I can, and for now, I spend my time feeling her hand caressing my hair. Each caress is more loving than the one before, each sound more exciting and as the seconds passed, she was getting more active. Every time she arched her back, made me feel more excitement and for a moment I believed that she was enjoying my face of abstention, until she thought it was too cruel leaving me like that and decided that it was time to keep going.

But I doubted. I didn't want her to say yes if she wasn't ready.

"Go on," said her raspy voice, mixture of a sigh and a groan.

That convinced me. I was still afraid of hurting her but I was doing this for her, so I backed away before inserting myself again, always slow: afraid of hurting her.

Her face was a mixture of several expresions: I could see pleasure, pain, sadness and happiness at each thrust and kiss received from me, and that, was the same that I was feeling; because we were one defined by a short word that we would never thought that would come to be real: love.

And love was the only guilty of our ripped soul. Because it had given us life, took it away from us and now, had us in hanging by a thread, at that each would fall to a different side.


Feeling Phoebe was the most pure sensation I had ever experienced in my life. We were almost coming and I couldn't resist saying what I hadn't said in so long time.

"I love you Phoebe", I moaned almost hitting my chest with hers, looking at her eyes with no intentions of quitting.

"I love you Cole".

That sentence made my whole world forever.

We remained like that, together, afraid of moving an inch. Breathing was hard, we were scared, What would happen now? I decided that staying like this wasn't good for either of us so I lay on the bed and she cuddled. I wrapped my arms on her waist and I saw her closing her eyes, hidding her face in my sweaty and naked torso. I took my free hand to her legs, caressing her skin, registering perfectly every minimal detail of Phoebe with my palm. And she, she was doing the same but with much more elegance and prolixity than me. She hugged me and we held our hands, letting them rest over her boling belly.

Her breath was becoming heavier, her body was dropping itself over me as her hand began to move slower.

"My second wish," she whispered, "I want you to get back your family. For me and for Benjamin, you have to".

I petrified at hear her talking like that. She was saying goodbye: it was true, she also knew that we had no return a wish, as her own, she was asking me to be happy. I let out a sob and protected her stronger, rocking her both sides. I didn't want her to go, I didn't want her to ask me for the third wish because that...that would be the first step to an uncertain future, of wich the only thing that was clear, it was that it wouldn't be with us together.

"The third one...", she said almost babbling, and her hands stopped moving, her head leaned and her eyes closed over my chest before opening them again, "Cole, honey, don't hate me for going after him. Love, please, don't hate me for wanting to rest in peace..."

The sound of the clock striking midnight, along with those peaceful and in love brown eyes staring at me and saying goodbye, were the mark of Phoebe's goodbye, who, as let her eyes shut, gave her last breath.

The stabbing pain, unstoppable tears, anguish made person and a lance buried in my hear there the only things existing for at that time. I hugged her for long time, kissing her hands and face, saying "I love you" with no stop. I didn't stop until my voice disappeared, my throat was very sore, and I didn't stop moving until I felt too weak to continue, and was then, when her death hit me: my princess had gone after our angel, she was not here...not anymore.

"Tonight, I'm coming your third wish true: I accomplished the first one that day, making love to you as I had never done before...feeling in every pore of my body the need of having you with me forever, and the sorrow of knowing that I had to let you go. Today, I'm recovering my family as you asked me, and...I had never hated you, I can't hate you because I would never be able to stop loving you as I did, as I do, as I will.

I wip my face of tears and sigh. I can hear noise, there are people approaching and I know that's time to go if I don't want them to discover me, besides...I told Phoebe all what I had to tell her and I know that she will be here to listen every time I need her company, here and everywhere. I can feel her with me all the time.

I put my hands on the ground and craving to stay, I get up.

"I love you Phoebe, happy birthday," I tell her sending her a kiss.

I save my hands on my pockets before turning and began to walk down the little hill. I see that forward there are three girls and an old woman with flowers, and I know they're her family. I try to pass quickly, I don't want to meet with those live images of the woman that taught me what love was.

"I'm sorry!," says one of them after crashing against me, distracted in her movements.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you," I apologize, and I'm lying.

The girl, that I can recognize as her middle sister, blushes a bit and allows me to pick up the flowers that she had dropped.

"Good bye," I say in an smooth tone not looking at her...she makes me recall her more than what my heart can bear.

I feel that the gazes of the others with her follows me until they can't see me, but I'm not afraid: her family never knew about us...I didn't tell them about Ben neither, I hadn't heart to see them more dead than what they were already that day when they went to pick Phoebe's body at the center. I remember that I managed to clean her, dress her and make up a good scenario of suicide, so they wouldn't need to make an autopsy; otherwise, they'd find out about her pregnancy. Human's mind has an incredible ability to create and imagine, solve problems when it's desperate. I had luck, my plan worked out.

I walk and turn to the right getting into a dirt road that lead to the mausoleum of my family. I get in a little shy, as every time I went here. This place is dismal, unbearable, but that doesn't stop me to come often, I visit this place every time I come to visit Phoebe, Gisselle, Helena and Ruby.

"Happy birthday Ben," I greet him, touching his little grave, clean of dust, "I brought you a present, I hope you like it".

I open the bag on my hands and take an helium balloon and a stuffed animal that I tie close to him.

"Two years! How does time fly so fast, son?," I ask him and my eyes drop some tears at the memory of him in my arms, "I'm from your mom's, but I couldn't give her her present yet because your aunts and great grandmother hadn't visited her yet. You know that I can't let them know that I'm the one who leaves her letters and flowers. I hope you can tell her, for me, whenever you're because I know you're together, that as soon as they leave, I'm giving them to her".

I approached slowly to a little space from where I removed a piece of wood to reach a notebook hidden: it is Phoebe's dairy. She dedicated her time the day before leaving, to complete it with all what had happened. I caress the front with sweetness, open the first page and there's her handwriting: messy, childish, mixture between capitals and lower case letters.

"I cry every time I read this pages, son," I tell him pursing my lips, "but was in that moment when I understood that, as much as her absence killed me and would kill me my whole life, your mother had spent her last days immersed in darkness, the deepest, and that now, away from here and holding your hand, she's free. Son, you set her free from all her sorrow," I told him saving the diary again, unable to read it yet, "And from that moment...she will never be locked in darkness in again".

I close my eyes as the memory of the moment when I found it comes to me, that day...that condemned day, the most cursed in the world's history.

She's not longer breathing, but her smile made her look like an angel. I kissed her in the lips and hugged her tight: I didn't ask her to stay, I couldn't do that to her. But it hurt, it ripped my soul to know that I would never be able to see her. She was gone, she had went after our son, to protect him.

Later, the warmth or her body became to disappear and its rigidity to torment me: I had to act. I got up, with no more tears to shed and made my best to leave my beautiful doll in the best conditions. I recalled that she had something in her hands when I came, so I began to search it until I found the notebook she was always writing in: her diary, my Phoebe's diary.

I took it as it was an invaluable treasure, unique, as it would disappear in my fingers. I sat next to her and held her hand as opened the first page, finding a note:

"Cole, love of my life:

I started to write this diary some time before arriving here, at home. I have some of these there, and I always start a new one when the pages don't last, but none is as important as this one: this, tells all what I have lived here, with you and the others, and I want you to have it. It's up to you what to do after reading it; you can burn it, throw it to the trash, keep it if you believe that is the best. This is yours, is the only thing I can leave you of me, besides, here, at the last page, are the footprints of our son, the proofs of his existence.

I ask you, please don't forget, to give my family a note...I wrote it, it's at the end of the diary. It's a letter of suicide, that way, they won't find out about us and you'll be safe. They will be too at knowing that nobody hurt me, but myself. That I died in peace, that it was my decision, that no one was behind it.

I want you to know, although I know you know it and as you go through this pages you'll confirm it, that you're the man who taught me what truly love was, and the one I allowed to do it, because I felt one with you from the first moment. I will never forgive you, and no matter what, I will accomplish my promise as I know you'll accomplish yours.

Don't cry for me my love, think about me with joy, otherwise I will never be happy. I want you to enjoy all what you've missed these years, I want you to enjoy this life to its maximums so when the time comes, we could meet and start again. Don't push yourself, just...get back to your home and learn how to love Beatriz, as we loved each other, love her. You deserve somebody to loves you as much as I love you, and although that I hate the idea, my only desire is that you get to find someone who gives you all what I can't.

Thank you for being there, thank you for protecting me, thank you for loving me, thank you for, simply, existing and being the only valuable part of my story.

Don't forget about me Cole, nor about me nor about Ben, we are waiting for you to continue our journey together. I love you with all my heart, I always did.

Sincerily, (Freebie, to all of the others), Phoebe, to the only one who saw me behind".

Ok creatures, I know this have been reallllyyyy long but there's still more. Yes, I know, boring! but well, there's the second sequel awaiting for us, so if you want to find it you've to click on my user acc and go to my story "There is light out there" or copy this and paste it on your browser after "fanfiction", don't forget to take off the parenthesis (.net/s/6676020/1/Theres_light_out_there).

Let me explain: if you want to understand the "new sequel" you'll have to forget what happened in this, because it's another version of the same, like in a new dimension or astral plane. "Locked in darkness" and "There is light out there" are both sequels of "Sincerily, Freebie" so the "new sequel" starts from the last chapter of "Sincerily, Freebie" and lets this fic out.

I hope it wasn't as messy and hard to understand as I wrote it lol see you!

Review(s) response(s) :

Piper'stemper: Ok. You have lifted my selfsteem to sky and beyond! I was concerned about their personalities because I didn't want them to be out of character...I believe that they were/are at some points but well...that's part of every fic I guess. Thank you for all your kind words and support, I really appreciate them! :D

ButterflyEyes24: Oh...poor Cole =( I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to write such a sad condemned story =( I'm glad you're back, don't leave again please!

Pholefan: How am I supposed to reply to that? lol, I know, aww :'(