2:56 :: h.s

dix sept

16:57

Rae and I are walking through the forest.
She's rambling on about how upset she is that her mom took her journal when they moved.
After we got back to my house the other day, she asked if we could look through the screwed shut cubby that is in my room.
I didn't even know it was there so I was incredibly confused.
Apparently she kept a journal inside.

"Whatever, I'll get over it. I'm just praying that she didn't look through it, but I know she did. That's how my mother is," she groans.

"I'm sorry, I would get it if they knew who I was." I shrug.

It's cold today so I'm wearing a beanie, a sweater, and a jacket.
Rae is in her usual attire.

She laughs, "thank you."

I'm following her and I don't know where we are.
Let's hope she doesn't kill me for some reason.

"So, I've been spending more time at the cemetery," she says slowly.

My stomach turns, "yeah?"

"And, it's kind of interesting how much you learn from dead people."

"What have you learned?" I don't know how I feel about her hanging around dead people.

She's dead, Harry.

"I'm stuck in this 'in between' because someone feels guilty or responsible for why I killed myself. And other people who were murdered are still here because their murderer is still alive or walking with the rest of the public. We're stuck here until we are at peace. So the whole 'rest in peace' thing makes sense now. We can't rest until we're at peace. I just thought you should know."

As selfish as it is, I hope whoever feels responsible for her death doesn't forgive themselves anytime soon.

"That's quite interesting really. And it makes sense."

She nods and steps over a fallen tree.

"Can I ask you something?" I say.

"When have I ever said no?" She jokes.

I roll my eyes. "Would you rather be alive again or move on to the afterlife?"

Sh thinks for a moment and I bury my hands in my jacket pockets.

"I mean, I tried to kill myself so I could move on and get away from all of this. But I'm stuck here, in this place that's worse than living - might as well call it Hell. You have to see the irony in that. Now that I've seen the world from a different perspective and observed more than engaged, I think I'd rather move on. I know that's crazy, but I feel like whatever comes after this is better because life is cruel and painful. Where I am is almost worse than that. I can't speak to any of the people I loved and cared about most in the world. I think that's worse than living. But the afterlife is a place all people hope you go after you die, so it must be better than anything here."

The selfish part of me wished that she would have said she would rather be alive.
Be with me.
But she didn't and I have to respect that.
She wants to move on and I want to help her with that, but I don't want to lose her either.

Rae stops and looks at me.

"Do you want to see my grave?" Her voice is gentle.

I raise my eyebrows, "sure."

She smiles and begins walking again.
I catch up to her and take her arm.
I pull hers through mine and she looks over.
I put my hand back in my pocket.
Her hand is on my bicep and a smile is on her face.
She tightens her grip around my arm and places her other hand on my forearm.

Eventually, we arrive at the cemetery.
We walk in at the side and she guides me towards the opposite.
I see some people, who match Rae's skin tone, leaning against headstones.
The graves must belong to them.

"Hi, Jimmy!" Rae says excitedly.

"Hey, Rae!" This Jimmy replies.

I see a guy, about a year younger than me, with pale skin, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes.

"Drunk driver. He was in my grade and he was coming home from a party. He was a really nice guy and didn't deserve it. He was driving a girl, who was nearly raped, home. She survived, but Jimmy . . ."

"Yeah," I respond.

A few steps later and she stops.
I look down.

Here it is.

"Here it is," she repeats my thoughts.

The headstone reads:

Julia Rae Jones
Daughter, lover, friend
February 25, 1998 - March 8, 2015

That's so . . . vague.
Much more vague than what she thought it said before.

She's so much more than just a daughter, a lover, and a friend.
And I've only known her dead.
No matter what people tell me about her when she was living, I'll never be able to experience it myself.

"Pretty fantastic, right?" Her sarcasm is clear.

I take my arm away from her and put my arm around her shoulder.
I pull her closer to me, in efforts of comforting her, but she just stands there.

She can't feel it.

I sigh in realization.
I look down at Rae and her eyes are closed.

Somehow I know she's trying to focus on feeling my touch.
But the nerves aren't there.