Echoes Into Eternity

II

 I would like to say that I recovered from the crash completely, but that wasn't the case.

Physically, I was okay. The concussion was pretty bad, so were the broken ribs and the bum ankle. I healed fine, and, frankly, the doctors said that I was lucky to be alive. A few members of the team suffered worse injuries. We weren't able to play for the rest of the season.

The mental part was by far more torturous. I played soccer to become involved. It was another attempt to recover from Owen's death and my grief. I had weeks to do nothing but sit around.

Schoolwork occupied me briefly. While my grades rose significantly, I sometimes hoped for more work in order to keep my thoughts as busy as possible.

Music helped. I continued playing my keyboard and guitar, hoping to spark some inspiration to write a song or two. Ever since I could remember, music had been an escape, a release. I could make it what I needed to cope with life.

My heart was rooted in the vibrations that ran through my chest. The vibrations bubbled into emotion, causing relief from the world's cruelty through the song pouring from my mouth. I couldn't help but sing the truth; that everything was broken, that life was still hard.

That I was afraid of him only being in my imagination, never real, never close, never to come back and rescue me. I couldn't tell anyone what had happened because of the fear of being called a desperate girl who missed her best friend. Who would believe me?

During those long weeks, I needed answers. Music comforted me, and while I worked through my struggles in song, I was still stuck. I was still obsessed with Owen, his goofy grin and captivating stories. When I thought of him, the ache in my chest was continually there. In a way, I was angry that I couldn't just live apart from him.

But I was also upset. The vibrations desperately pleaded with me, trying to show me who I was. They tried to tell me it was okay that I couldn't move on. I had never lived without Owen. The past year had been difficult, but my hallucination made it ten times more unbearable. Seeing him like that... It had never happened to me before.

Late at night, I laid awake with my fears. Was I insane? Depressed? Had I made up Owen visiting me? Why was I the only one found outside of the bus? If I was dying, how was I revived without him?

The noise of homework and music couldn't drown out my curiosities as I laid in bed at night. I mulled over my short seconds with Owen over and over, trying to find a trigger that would make him unquestionably real.

When I saw him, before the plane crash, he was excited. He wanted to go to Europe and see everything there was to see. His excited expression was etched into my brain. I forbid myself to ever forget the way his eyes lit up, how his mouth revealed his smile, or the bounce in his step.

Seeing him on the night of the crash was haunting. If I had seen him at all.

The only thing I thought of was his troubled eyes, concerned expression, and forced smile. While his touch was gentle and he saved my life, I began to wonder why. He seemed to be desperate, but he wasn't alive. Why would he be upset if I was coming to join him in the afterlife? Angels weren't in distress over condemned mortals... Were they?

"You're supposed to be dead."

That line. He was dead... wasn't he? I had gone through a year of forcing myself to wake up everyday and face the world without my best friend. Then he just shows up? It shouldn't be possible.

Shouldn't.

Time went on, and soon November air chilled the atmosphere. The weather was still relatively warm in our South Carolina town, which was nice. I used to wish for snow when winter rolled in, but after Owen's death, I craved consistency. Living without him, pushing my feelings aside, trying to forget him-- those efforts were consistent.