3 months later...
Kimberly ❤️
It's been 3 months since Jeremiah has last walked the Earth. Since then, I haven't been able to forget him.
It's gotten so bad, I've been distancing myself from the family. I haven't talked to Dak in a while. He hasn't even thought about touching me. Better yet, saying anything to me or coming near me. He's afraid that I'll snap.
I also haven't been seeing him around as much. All of a sudden he's super busy with football. But as usual, I've just been home taking care of the kids.
Jeremiah's part of the room was clean. Top bunk. His toys. His clothes. All in storage in the basement. Any pieces of him will only make me cry more. And I wasn't in the mood to cry anymore.
I guess you can say I'm just depressed.
I stood in the kitchen washing dishes to keep myself occupied.
"Mommy?" I hear.
"Yes?" I say.
"Can you help me with my homework please?" They say.
I turn off the faucet and turn around, drying my hands on the towel.
"What do you need help with?" I say, looking up at them.
My eyes grew wide upon seeing Jeremiah standing there.
I dropped the towel.
"Jeremiah?" I ask, in a trembling voice.
"Yes mommy?" He said.
I covered my mouth.
"This can't be real. No, it's not real. Jeremiah you're not alive." I say, beginning to hyperventilate.
"I'm alive mommy, see?" He said.
"No! I buried you months ago. Oh my god." I say, covering my ears.
I began panicking.
"Mommy, are you okay?" He asked.
I moved myself toward the counter. I slid against the cabinets, repeating to myself that this wasn't real.
This isn't real.
"Mommy?! Mommy?!" I hear.
This isn't real. This isn't real. It isn't real.
"Kimberly?! Kimberly?!" I hear.
I soon felt my body slightly being shaken.
"Baby?! Wake up baby. Come on." I hear.
I began to open my eyes, groaning. As my vision cleared up, I saw Dak. He sighed in relief.
He sat me up straight, patting my back.
"Kim, you can't keep scaring me like that. This is the 4th time this week." He said.
"I'm sorry." I exclaim.
He nods, looking up.
"Shit!" He exclaimed, standing up frantically.
I watched as he turned off the faucet, stopping the sink from overflowing. He pulled the plunge out of the drain. He then grabbed the towel to dry his hand.
He stood me up off the floor and had me sit on the island. He sighed.
"Babe, you have to go to therapy." He said.
