Chapter Twenty Seven
Depressingly Gritty
Ghost POV:
The sweet solace in life before Everly Violet Beretta is something I’ll never know again.
If I had known that was the last time we would speak, touch, or kiss I would have made it last a little longer.
I would have said everything I have ever thought.
I would have held her tighter. I would have kissed her deeper.
That's the problem with death, you never know when your ticket is going to be pulled. You never know when it’ll be the last time you see someone.
The cruelest part of death is not that they are never coming back.
It’s all the regrets you have after they are gone.
All the times you wish things had happened differently.
You might have apologized in a meaningless argument.
You might have told them you loved them sooner.
You might have changed your ways to show them how much they meant to you.
All of that seems so regrettable after they are gone.
Trivial is complaining about their quirks.
Trivial is getting frustrated with them. Trivial is not loving them better.
If I could get five more minutes with her, I wouldn’t do something like have sex or kiss her.
I wouldn’t even tell her I loved her. I would show her the top of Mount Everest at night.
I would sit with her on the oxygen-depleted peak so she would know just how easily she takes my breath away.
How the cold makes you feel painfully alive, the way her love forces its way into my bones.
The height that feels limitless, like my soul’s reach for her.
I would especially show her the sky on a cloudless night.
I would tell her to look at the stars. I would tell her about the scale of the Milky Way and the endless universes.
She would leave this world knowing she is cosmic.
That she is every Sun, every moon, and all the stars in the universe.
Saying I love you would never be a tangible way to say what she means to me, because there are no words to describe the gravity that is Everly Violet Beretta.
That is why I find myself lying weightless in a bed we shared just four short days ago.
The emptiness within the sheets is not far off from the absence in my chest. She stole my heart the first time I saw her and took it with her the moment she died.
It’s rightfully hers to keep, nonetheless.
As if there was ink etched in every cell, it was hers to possess in every measure of time.
Past, present, and future; for all of eternity.
I fall asleep every night hoping I won't wake up in the morning. Praying I’ll be reunited with my little siren.
To chase her on open water, like I did in her club.
To hold her helpless against my knife, like I have on not enough occasions.
To be enchanted by her song, like I am by her melodic laugh.
At this moment, the only weight I can bear is that of her black stone urn within my arms.
It’s not enough and it never will be. In a desperate attempt to feel her essence, my trembling fingers find the seam of the lid.
It takes more force than my exhausted muscles are used to while prying it open.
Setting it aside, I look within the dark hole of the afterlife to find creased plastic.
It’s thick and smooth. I collect the contents in my callused hand and remove them.
I study the ashes, as if I’ll find her somewhere buried beneath them.
Opening the bag, I hesitantly run my fingers through the gritty, sand like, substance.
For a singular moment, my heart rate falters as I succumb to the gut wrenching reality of loss.
Her lingering cremated bone and flesh falls between my digits like that of sand in an hourglass.
Reminding me of the fleeting time left for every being that walks this plane.
It brings to mention my continued dire need for her.
I can still feel her all around me. She still lives on in the unwashed sheets, the newly painted walls, the fibers of the carpet, the loyal canines that lay near my feet, and the air I consume involuntarily.
The door swings open, colliding with the wall next to it. The three men who loved her like family, walk into the room but halt when they see my current actions.
“Oh fuck, man. That's just depressing. Listen, our world is shattered too but she wouldn’t want you to live like this. You have barely moved a muscle since that day. You need to pull yourself out of this.” James speaks with a tone of disappointment. I couldn't care less what his opinion of me is.
“I don’t know how. I can’t think about anything other than her being gone. Even breathing is painful.” My voice cracks as I still refuse to remove my hand from the urn. I don’t look at them when I speak.
“We know the feeling, but we can’t get revenge without you.” My head whips up at Lucas’s voice. The word “revenge” peaks my interest.
I have considered it of course. The issue is not knowing where to look.
We still have no idea who caused the crash.
What we do know is that the jet’s engine was tampered with.
We know that the pilot was a hitman for hire that was on a suicide mission.
We know it was premeditated and carefully planned.
We know that there were survivors based on the number of victims. None were present when we got there.
For all we know, whoever did this may have been waiting nearby and grabbed them or they took off on their own and found safety somewhere.
There are just too many variables to come up with a concise plan.
Looking at their faces, each carries the same determined but concerned expression.
I don’t need their concern, I need their will to live in her absence and spirit to stay motivated.
They must sense my fleeting desire to find justice because Ryon sits at the edge of the bed, invading my space.
“We have a badass plan, we know where they are, all we need is our wild card.” I stare at him in confusion.
His short blonde hair is unruly like he has showered the same amount of times I have since she left.
His blue eyes cast their same playful way as always.
How this man can even stay positive in the wake of her death is something I will likely never understand. He is free of care and stress always.
“Your psycho ass is our wild card. Burn them like they burned you.” His words strike a cord in my heart and a memory in my brain.
I once told Everly that I would burn the world to ash if she asked me to.
So that’s exactly what I plan to do. I have nothing to lose as I have already lost everything.
A wicked smile covers my lips as a new found power leeches its way into my veins.
God help anyone who stands in my way. They will pray to the devil himself for peace when they meet the monster they have created.