Remains

Stone Cold

Hannah's POV
I found a bag in front of my door. It was a body bag.
I had a pretty good idea of who was inside.
I took the bag inside and into my room.
I hesitantly placed my hand on the zipper.
Was I ready to see the horror inside?
I took a deep breath and opened the bag.
She was there. Laying with her brown hair covered in blood and a gunshot wound in her head.
I closed my eyes.
I couldn't look.
My only friend was dead.
Dead.
----><-----
I found a needle and some thread.
Placing them on the nightstand next to the bed, I carry her down the hallway to the bathroom.
I wash away the blood in her hair and in her clothes.
I leave her in the bathtub for a moment and go get the needle and thread.
I sow the ugly wound together and hide it in her hair.
She now smells like lilacs.
I dry her off and go outside and find a shovel.
And I begin to dig.
Back and forth.
Scoop the dirt and place it on the ground.
She's dead.
Bury her.
The voices in my head scream at each other.
I refuse to believe she's dead.
She's dead.
Don't bury her!
Bury her.
No!
She's dead.
I let out cry of sadness and sit next to the grave I dug.
She's not dead!
"She's dead!" I scream.
Running into the house, I collect her body and gently place it in the grave.
I place her hand on her heart and swallow, moving to get the shovel.
Don't do it.
I pick up the first pile of dirt.
She's alive.
Swinging the shovel towards the grave.
Stop.
I close my eyes.
No. She's alive. Don't do it.
I drop the dirt onto her stomach.
No more.
I pick up another pile of dirt and cover her.
She's gone.
I go and clean up the blood, which leaves her ghost in its wake.
I lay on my bed.
Thinking.
Always self-harmed. Never thought of suicide, Hannah?
Could be a way to stop the pain.
I shut my eyes and try to block out the voices.
Want to join her?
It would be nice. You wouldn't be crying over her now if you saw her.
I can't think.
I can't breathe.
I can't live without her.