“Run, Ashia…” I choke out.
“I’m not leaving you…”
“Please…” I gasp and cough again, desperate to get the words out. Tears stream down my face, and the saltiness quickly dries against my cheeks. “Please, little wolf… Run. Fucking run as far away as you can. Take our baby somewhere they can’t reach you.Fuck, baby, please!” I finally manage to tear my eyes open, only to be met with nothing but the dark, stone walls, and the dirt flickering through the air.
My chest and throat twist, and once again, I feel the void in my heart. She was never here. I could feel her, barely, but she was fucking here. She wasright fucking here. Sobs wrack my already-agonizing body, and I don’t care if they hear me. I don’t care about anything anymore.
I just want my wife.
“Dang, Bubba. You’re a mess, you know that?”
I force my head up once again to connect with eyes that mirror my own. The colors are brighter. Each wavering blue is a sign of hope and anticipation, one that will never be fulfilled. They’re the globes I search for every time I look at my reflection, or stare at our mother, but I can never find them.
Not until right now.
“Emma?”
She’s upright against the stone wall with her arms crossed over her chest, standing no taller than she did the day she died. Those damn silicone bracelets still cover her wrists, and she has that one small braid in her hair. I remember when she had me hold them during her soccer games, and she made me promise to keep them in order. ‘They were cooler that way,’ she used to say.
“Theyarecooler that way, and you know it.” She bobs her head and stands straighter, then walks over to me. “What are you doing here, Bubba? This place is gross.” Her lip curls in a snarl, and she kicks her foot out to knock some of the dust around.
As another tear rolls down my face, I just shake my head.
“I don’t want to be here…”
“Ugh! Is this Dad’s training again? He’s always making you do the worst stuff!” She sits on the floor and crosses her legs, then leans back on her palms, like we’re just out on the field or sitting down for lunch. I let my head fall as well, so I can still look at her, and the muscles in my neck ease up some.
But then, my heart drops to the floor and melts in the shape of the stones. Doesn’t she know already? Wouldn’t he be there with her? I was so sure that when my father’s time came, that she would be there waiting for him. Why didn’t that happen?
“Emma—”
“Wow, has it beenthatlong? You won’t even call me by mynameanymore?” She moves her head back and forth with that attitude and giggles. My throat burns.
“Iamsaying your name…” I deflect.
“Not the one my Bubba calls me. I’m not here to talk toDamien, I’m here to talk toBubba,” she says with a punch, and crosses her arms again. My bottom lip quivers, and suddenly I’m twelve years old again. I know what she wants to hear, but I haven’t called her that since she died. It didn’t feel right anymoreonce she was gone. “Come on, you know Ilovedthat name! I even let you call me that in front of my friends!” she whines.
“Em—”
“Almost, but no dice!” she interrupts me before I can say it again. “I’ll give you the silent treatment until you tell me what I want to hear, you know that!” She juts her chin in the air and stares at the ceiling. That playful curl to her lips still fills out her cheeks, and I can’t help but huff.
“You’re still a brat, I see…” I joke through strained words, but she continues to ignore me. She knows that the silent treatment always gets me, and it’s actually infuriating. Even when we were kids, all I ever wanted was her attention. Her smile made the room light up, and it used to piss me off when she would intentionally hide it. When she hears what I have to say to her now, though, there’s not a chance in hell I’ll see that smile again… She’ll be so disappointed in me. “Ducky, there’s something I—”
She squeals and taps her hands on the floor.
“I may still be a brat, but it still works! Eek!” She squeals and smiles so wide that the dimples on her cheeks reveal themselves. The sight is heartbreaking. It’s exactly what I needed to see, and yet, I’ve never felt so empty.
“Dad’s dead, Ducky…” I choke out. Her laughter immediately stops, and suddenly, I’m the worst person in the world. I’m the enemy now. The smile that was just there falls into a frown, and her sparkling eyes water. It’s like she’s thinking the exact same thing I did. She didn’t find him. Wherever it was that my father went, it wasn’t with her.
She looks around the room, and suddenly, all of her innocence fades away. It’s like everything she’s watched me do over the past sixteen years resurfaces, and when she turns her gaze back to me, it’s almost like she doesn’t even recognize me anymore. Her eyes aren’t bright any longer. They’re tainted with the samepain I’ve inflicted over the years. Somehow, even in death, I’ve managed to hurt my sister.
“Was it them?” she asks in an eerie tone that’s now somehow transparent. Her voice sounds like she’s speaking through fabric, and it’s frightening. The color drains from her face, like the truth of her demise is catching up with the time we have together.
I nod my head in response, but it becomes heavy again. My neck cracks as I pick it up, like it’ll shatter if I move it any further. Every ounce of pain is registering all at once, and perhaps that’s the ghosts’ way of telling me that I’m out of time.
“You didn’t stop them?” she questions as a whisper, as if the knowledge that I failed them all is hitting her. Silent sobs wrack my body, and with every jolt, there’s another burn or sting to accompany it. I just want to fall asleep.
My head is then forced upward, and a moaning wail slips from my lips. The pain is excruciating.
