That is the part that hurts the most.
Night falls, and I think about the funeral. About the final goodbye.
I decided not to go. Not because it’s too hard, but because I don’t see the point. They are just bodies being lowered into the ground, and if I go, that is what I will remember. Not their laughter. Not the way my mom hummed while making coffee. Not the way my dad looked at me like I could do anything.
Just bodies.
I want to keep them the way they were. Alive. Just Mom and Dad.
I walk to the church instead. Maybe I can light a candle for them. Maybe I can finally say the words that have been sitting in my throat all day.
As I reach the front door, I notice a shovel leaning against the stone wall. I turn my head, and to the left, beyond the path, there are freshly planted flowers in a small graveyard.
I didn’t see them there before.
Before I can think it through, my hand closes around the shovel, and a thought slips in. Thought that The Caller might have buried Daniel there.
A part of me still believes he could be alive. That this is all some twisted mistake. And another part of me is terrified that it isn’t. Because if he is out there somewhere, I might never be free. Not even The Caller would be able to hide me from him.
I stop in front of two tombs.
Helena Rosewood and Lilibeth Rosewood.
I think about what Victor said. About the way Margaret looked at me when she said he knows the story better than anyone. I try to piece it together, but it slips through my fingers.
The ground in front of Lilibeth’s tomb is where fresh flowers have been planted.
I step closer.
My hands move as I push the shovel into the dirt, tearing through the flowers, scattering petals across the ground. Trying to search for Daniel’s body. I dig again. And again. But nothing is there, just dirt.
Each thrust of the shovel pulls something out of me. My thoughts begin to fade, turning quiet, then empty. The only thing left is the sound of shovel and dirt.
I don’t even notice how hard I’m breathing until I hear something behind me.
I freeze, my grip tightening on the shovel as I turn.
A small strand of blonde hair is peaking near Helena’s tomb.
It’s Lily.
She looks at me. “Don’t do it.” She whispers. “If you do… something bad will happen.”
I ignore her and keep digging until the shovel hits the casket. The sound travels up my arms. I swallow and lift my face toward her. She just stands there, shaking her head.
I strike the casket once more, then crouch and pry it open.
A year shouldn’t be enough for the body to turn into bones, yet there is nothing left but bones. My gaze catches on the left hand, on the gold wedding ring. I know this is wrong.
But I take the hand. I lift it, holding it in the air, staring at the gold ring.
I set it on the ground. Then I close the casket and push the dirt back in, packing it down with my feet, as if I haven’t already crossed a line I can’t uncross. Lily doesn’t speak until I finish. She waits until the earth is smooth again, and the flowers back in place.
“You’re in trouble,” she whispers, and then she is gone.
A cold gust blows in from the direction of the church. I stand, clutching the bones, and make my way back to the house, past the garden, toward the entrance.
The front door is already open.
