"There's my girl." His lips spread into a soft smile, but I see the pride in his eyes, the joy, the sorrow. And it all hits me like the weight of a thousand bricks falling on me, crushing the breath from my chest, eking the life out of me.
"How?" It's the only word I can manage, the only thing that can slip off of my tongue before a sob escapes me... a sob that I don't even know the purpose of. Is it sorrow? Is it joy?
"My sweet girl." He shakes his head softly before pressing his forehead to mine, soaking me in as I soak him in, my mind reeling with the possibilities and implications and the nagging question of how this is possible.
I remember that he died. I know that's true.
Am I dreaming?
"Life is just a dream." I pull away to see him better, to ask what he means, but he just nods. "I know. I know what you're thinking. We've been connected through life and death. Our souls are twined in every iteration they exist in."
I don't know what that means, but I don't care.
He'shere. It's the greatest Christmas gift I could have asked for.
But I don't know where here is.
"What's going on?"
"We're in the after." He says, so simply that it may as well have been him telling me his name. When I blink at him, his lips turn to a sad smile again. "After life. You died, and your spirit came here..."
My spirit?
I blink again, and everything shifts. "I came... here?"
We're standing in the church, which is lit by the glow of the Christmas lights on the large tree in the lobby. The heavy double doors are open, letting the light filter in.
He doesn't say anything, and when I look at him again, he tips his shoulder in a shrug. "I think it's a waiting room. I've been waiting for you." He swipes a strand of hair from my face, and I watch the light slip over his fingers. They look so translucent.
"Are we ghosts?"
"Maybe." He shrugs. "Though I prefer to think of it as angels."
"Angels..." I agree, searching the room for any sign of what's going on. He said I'm dead, but I don't understand. Why would I be dead? Why wouldn't I remember that? "No. We can't be angels." I step away from him, gliding even though I should have tripped on the step that I didn't lift my leg to climb. "You killed yourself..."
"I would never have left you." He says, his voice firm even in its delicateness. "I didn't choose that, and I didn't leave. I'vebeen right here, waiting. I wish it had taken longer, though. You shouldn't be here."
I shouldn't be here.
Why am I?
"What happened?"
"The same thing that happened to me." His fingers trace my jaw, his eyes enamored. "We trusted the wrong person. Nick was no friend to either of us."
Nick.
The world seems to shake at the mention of his name; everything trembles like we're inside a jar being shaken for the amusement of a petulant child. I'd think there was an earthquake hitting if that made any sense.
His name is like a bad omen, sending a jolt of something through me, a sensation I'm not sure I can identify. It's different from anything I've felt since waking up here.
"Nick." His name feels like ash on my tongue... a poison that spreads to my veins, filling my bloodstream with something acrid and dark... something that makes the room harshen and dim, the shadows growing more severe, the air colder. "He killed you."
Noah nods.
"And me?"
This time, he doesn't nod. He just stares at me with all that sorrow, like he doesn't know what to do to fix it.
