Today was Eric Walker’s death anniversary.

And just like every year since it happened, Bette went back here, to the spot where he had jumped, to light a candle and offer a prayer.

On the first anniversary of his death, a lot of people had left flowers, cards and lighted candles in his memory. Unfortunately, the succeeding years proved the age old saying of ‘out of sight, out of mind’. The once bountiful offerings began to dwindle down in number. And now six years later, it seems as if Bette was the only one who still remembered.

She was absolved from her guilt a long time ago, but she felt no need to stop her yearly vigil. If not for her, than she was doing it for Jill. The redhead, who has been based in Paris since last year, would surely  appreciate someone doing this for her late husband. Besides, Bette was a fan of tradition anyway, and doing this once every year gave her no trouble.

With her eyelids firmly shut, she bowed her head and reflected, putting herself in the right solemn mood to what she was about to do. So entrenched was she in her own little world that she didn’t notice the doors opening, nor the fact that she was no longer alone at the balcony. From a near distance, someone stood in place, watching.

Oblivious, Bette finished her silent reflection and went about doing her task, proceeding to take out the lighter that she had borrowed from James so she could light the candle and offer a prayer.

“I didn’t know you smoked..” A raspy voice spoke out of nowhere, spooking the hell out of Bette.

“FUCK!” The heiress shrieked in fright, pivoting in place, a hand on her chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you..” The man apologized sincerely, cautiously stepping closer to the girl.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe..” Bette murmured weakly and somewhat annoyed, forcing her tongue to swallow back her heart. She took a good look at the person that had so rudely intruded on her privacy. Her irritation dissipated and gave way to something else – disbelief. And for the next few moments, coherent thoughts left her system completely. The man smiled and flashed her a toothy grin. For her part, Bette could only get herself to return the gesture with a slight grimace. In the awkward silence that followed, the heiress stood dumbly and took the opportunity to slyly observe the changes in the other person’s appearance. This was a guy she hadn’t seen in almost a year. Suffice to say, the difference was striking. If she hadn’t recognize him by the distinct crookedness of his yellowish teeth, she wouldn’t have been able to give the face a name. She had heard news that he was sick, but she never realized how bad it was until she saw his frail and gaunt form in the flesh. He didn’t look himself. Actually, he barely looked alive. The disturbing sight knocked the wind out of her lungs, rendering her mute and utterly speechless.