My Purgatory Hell

Chapter 23

"Sharp are the arrows of a broken heart."
– Cassandra Clare

I couldn't fathom ending up where my feet were planted with the eerily familiar water expanding in front of me. My toes dug into the sand beneath me. It is a little ironic that after my fate with Corwin and my observations with my family that I'd end up at the place Samantha Amelia Turner died. Even though it wasn't long ago that she found the white light welcoming her to her peace, it felt like years had passed. This was the last place I would ever have thought I'd be after the series of events I faced, but I wandered here in an attempt to be closer to Samantha and to clear my head about how I felt. With Corwin. With my family. I should be happy that my family is functioning in some form without me. Grief shouldn't cripple them or stop time. They cannot continue to sob and clutch their chests every minute of every waking day over losing me. As for Winnie? A deep part of me knew he didn't feel that way--that he was never going to feel that way--but somehow I needed that confirmation to move on. Although I was hurting from his words, I welcomed the comfort it brought me. Confirmation that my subconscious was right, though that did not make the pain ease.

I waded into the shallow end of the pond, letting the water meld around my skin. Stopping at where the water touched just above my ankle, I admired the beauty of the shimmering water before me. The coolness felt like a wonderful distraction against the emptiness and darkness attempting to raise their ugly heads. The feeling was unlike the feeling of when I was living, but I took what I could get. I looked up at the sky as if Samantha were up there looking down upon me, which may have been ridiculous for any oncomers. Though I doubted she could hear me, I found some peace in calling out to her.

"I miss you, Samantha," I called out, almost yelling. I closed my eyes and tried to feel the breeze against my skin. To pretend it was her touch. The feeling of the water and the wind were wholly different than if I were alive, but I had to make do. There was no undoing the dead. No coming back from finding peace. I attended my own funeral, for Pete's sake! Plus, I haven't heard anything from Samantha after she passed through.

Even though I didn't need it, I still took a deep and steadying breath. "I'm so alone," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. I was, indeed, alone to the best of my knowledge. It was to my honest surprise that someone responded.

"No matter how dark the times, you are never alone," a female voice spoke behind me. I froze in place, because I was not expecting any sort of response. For one, I was alone the last time I checked. And for two? Oh yeah. I was dead.

Slowly, I turned around to face the newcomer who responded to my question. A lady in her forties smiled politely at me. "Who are you?" I asked accusingly, raising an eyebrow. I stayed where I was and watched the middle-aged woman warily as I waited for a response.

"Of course you don't know who I am," she muttered, more to herself than to me. Her tone was light, but it sounded off. She shook her head and put on a brighter smile. If that was even possible. "I'm just a fellow stranger, checking up on all of the lost wanderers." Her words sounded believable.

However, her statement also had me more confused. "Lost wanderers?" The question was out of my mouth before I got to register what I was thinking or encouraging.

"Lost souls who don't seem to have a purpose," the lady responded with a sly smile. "People like you."

I didn't consider myself a wanderer in the slightest. I did have a purpose, didn't I? "I have a purpose," I answered in defense. Though my voice sounded hollow and a bit robotic. I frowned.