Midnight Grey

Chapter 13 Last Wishes

I stare at a random spot on my wooden floor. I've been gazing at the wood long enough for the sun to touch all the corners of my room with my pillow clenched against my chest.

"Kyle," I sigh squeezing the pillow tighter to my chest as the lash from speaking his name comes. Some part of me feels protected by the cushion. As if it is made of steel instead of linen and cotton.

I wonder what he would want me to do. I recognize everyone else would tell me to move on but would Kyle?

I close my eyes and try to beg my hallucinations to return. For them to give me the answers, but the fantasy doesn't appear. It's absent like last night and I start to wonder if they will ever come back.

I stand up and throw the pillow on the floor, "Fine!" I glare at the pillow like it's to blame. They deserted me when I needed them the most last night. My hallucinations left me alone to hands ripping off my flesh. Turning away from my cushion and crossing my arms, I refuse to look at my pillow, my illusion, Kyle.

A chill rises up my back to the brim of my neck with a spark of realization. I need to face that he's gone like my uncle said. That's what I should to do. After all, at least I can fulfill the wishes of one person I love.

Gathering the few remains of courage left in my body, I head towards the most logical place for me to face the hurt.

I can't muster up the strength to drive into the cemetery. My foot refuses to push down the gas pedal when I get to the gate, so I park on the outskirts of the graveyard. This helps my heart resume a steady rhythm.

I take in several, long deep breaths before I can gather the courage to get out of my car and convince myself this is the right thing to do.

Even though I couldn't find the strength to drive into the gravesite as I walk under the metal gate entrance and on into the cemetery, I wonder if walking in is worse. The speed drags the pain in a scratching movement like the high-pitched clawing down a chalkboard and everything seems to be telling me to turn around.

The graveyard is darker even in daylight with a storm cloud shadowing the ground. The black gate squeaks back and forth like the entrance to a haunted house. The gravestones stand silent with the names of the dead carved into them as a constant reminder of those who have fallen. The ground is covered with moss and roots which come back no matter how many times they are pulled out. Decay is left at the end of winter since the bright sun hasn't been able to shine in months.

The volume in the graveyard is not calm and peaceful but piercing with warning. The chirps of the birds are deafening like they are pecking at my eardrums. The wind is loud enough to be a scream.

My nerves become restless as if trying to rattle me down to my bones. The wind freezes me through my jacket forming goose bumps on my skin and a cold sweat starts to trickle down my back.

I get closer and I start to taste lead in my mouth. My jittery heart begins to thump on my rib cage and my limbs become so shaky I almost can't move forward. My head goes straight to the gravestone in a conformation of my doom. My pupils dilate in terror which only heightens my vision on the one place that will be the death of me.

In view is the curve of his gravestone and the beginning of the writing 'Here lies...' I'm being sucked into a black hole, one where there is no return, no hope of survival. My heart is readying itself for the next words to come into view as I get closer, but when I get through those steps someone catches my eyes and the sight of him instantly slows my breathing.