I scoop at the dirt, at the blood beneath her head, trying to push it back where it belongs. I press my hands against her skull, shaking her gently, but she doesn’t move.
“Emily,” I whisper. “Wake up. Please. Just wake up.”
She doesn’t move.
There is too much blood.
I lost her.
The only person who ever made me want to live, fully, truly live.
I lost her.
As I shake her again, something slips from the hoodie I gave her. A piece of paper.
I knew it before I read it.
“I forgive you.”
My chest caves in.
Tears fall before I can stop them.
“No,” I cry. “No. No. Freckles. Please.” My voice breaks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But sorry doesn’t reach her.
Sorry doesn’t bring her back.
I place the paper in her hand.
“Take it,” I whisper. “Take it back.”
If she takes it, maybe she comes back.
It doesn’t make sense.
Nothing does.
Life without her doesn’t make sense.
I lift my head to the sky as the moon fades and the sun begins to rise. I gently let her head rest against the ground and stand.
The moon is nothing without the sun. The sun is nothing without the moon. Always close. Always apart.
Something inside me tells me to get up. To give her the ending she wanted for me, even if it destroys me.
I take the phone from Zeke’s pocket and dial 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I found the body of Zayne Mercer and a missing woman,” I say. “They’re at a construction site near Ozark Avenue.”
She starts to speak.
But I put her on mute and let the screen on.
Sometimes an ending doesn’t lead to a beginning.
