Linger, Part One.

And that was the last time I saw him. Without notice, without warning, and without a goodbye. He was stolen from existence, captured by fate's greed and destiny's confusion. He was taken from the world, but he was not gone.

I woke up in a sweat that morning, not as if this was much of a surprise, my dreams always shook me. I felt a quake of him, his arms, his eyes, his voice, travel through the air, searching for somewhere to settle. He settled into me, my existence.

The dim light selfishly fished its way through each strand of the curtain who desperately tried to block it out. The melon glow filled my room as if the curtains were transparent. I always meant to get rid of those things.

My will to move, breathe, see, feel was buried with him. He took all of me, he stole my innocence, my happiness, my eternity. It was up until the sun struck my sheltered eyes that I was blind to the impact that he had on me. Now that it was exposed, I hated him for it. I hated him for being so selfish, for letting himself go, for not fighting his soul from lifting. I thought that I at least would have acted as a weight upon his conscious...

I always seemed to get lost in my thoughts these types of mornings. I've developed a considerably adequate remedy- shake it off. Like a dog emerging from water, seizing each jem-like bead off of it's skin until it merely forgets its swim in the first place; until I forget my past in the first place. It isn't exactly as effective as I like to pretend it is, but pretending is half the battle, the other half is unspoken.

I open my eyes, but I don't see. I feel a numbing wave over me, I imagine that day, the last day. The shadow of a passing car crawls across my ceiling. Who else in their right mind would be awake this early. Maybe they're empty too, maybe someone was stolen from them too. The clock reads 6:04 and the illumination of the numbers are imprinted in my sight. The wall read 6:04, the quilt read 6:04, when I closed my eyes his face read 6:04. Until those three numbers were adjusted out of my view it was as if it would stay 6:04 forever. Until I looked back and corrected myself. 6:07. Time waits for no one.

Maybe I'm selfish for letting his death take me, but I can feel him in question. That's the only think I feel anymore. I can feel the air around me but I can't catch my breath. I can feel the water rising, but I don't want to emerge. The weight that ticks inside of me pulls me down, down, until I hit the floor. I'm watching myself drown, but I am calm. I let the current thrash me opened, I let the salt creep in and I let myself feel. I wake up again. 6:12. Time is trying to be clever with me.

"Hush littler girl, don't let yourself fall."
His voice as real as it could ever be anymore.
The covers hide his face and allow me to see him there, laying next to me. I hear myself speak for the first time in my life,

"Where do you linger now?"
"Hush little girl," he responds.
"Are you my spirit?"
"Don't let yourself fall." he repeats.
"You can't restrict me for long, I'll join you soon," and I was convinced that I would.
"I don't want you here," he said. And he was gone.