Page 12 of Haunt Me

I press my palms against my eyes, but it doesn't help.

Nothing helps.

Because no matter how many times I run through it, no matter how many times I tell myself I held her while she died and watched her take her last breath, some stubborn part of me still expects to walk into the kitchen and find her there.

Still expects this to be a nightmare that I’ll wake from at any minute.

Still expects her to come home.

I miss her.

God, I miss her.

I miss the sound of her moving around the house. I miss finding her curled up on the couch with a book she swore she was reading, even though she'd spent the last twenty minutes watching me instead. I miss the way she'd steal my hoodies and then act offended when I asked for them back. I miss her laugh, her smile, the way she'd look at me like I was worth loving even on the days I didn't deserve it.

I never imagined there’d come a day when I wouldn't hear it anymore. Not because I thought we were invincible, but because I never questioned the future. It was always there waiting for us.

Instead, I'm standing alone in our bathroom getting dressed for her funeral.

The thought lands somewhere deep inside me and keeps sinking.

Her funeral.

Not another doctor's appointment or hospice visit. Not another day of convincing myself there would somehow be more time.

Today ends with Raven in the ground.

There was supposed to be more. God, there was supposed to be so much more.

The tears come harder, fast enough that I can't stop them even if I wanted to. My vision blurs completely as grief tears through me, stripping away the numbness I've been hiding behind for the last week and leaving something raw in its place.

I don't fight it. For the first time since the creek, I don't even try. I bury my face in my hands and let it hit me.

The anniversaries we'll never celebrate.

The children we'll never have.

The vacations we'll never take.

The quiet nights on the couch when we'd argue over the last slice of pizza and she’d inevitably win because she always won.

Growing old together.

All of it is gone.

The worst part is how often I forget. Not for long. A second, maybe two. Just enough time for my brain to reach for her before reality catches up.

Yesterday it was when I looked at the book I was reading to her on the nightstand. The day before that, I saw a ridiculous commercial and reached for my phone because I knew it’d make her laugh. Three days ago, I found one of her hair ties around my wrist and spent an hour trying to remember when she'd put it there.

Every memory starts the same way.

Raven would like this.

Raven said⁠—

Raven needs⁠—

Then the truth shows up.