Epilogue
Emory
One thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days.
Five whole years since I’d died.
And the last day I was going to keep counting.
I stared down at the rock on my finger, an unstoppable smile forming on my lips.
My fingers shook as I picked up the letter on the bedside table.
I should have read it yesterday, when Enoch left it for me, but I was too nervous.
A part of me was still waiting for all of this to fall apart, to realize this was only just a dream.
I opened the unsealed envelope, my name, my real one, the one I only got to use whenever I was with Enoch and his family, no, my family now, scrawled across the front in his familiar handwriting.
I unfolded the lined paper and released a deep breath as I began to read.
Dear Shiloh,
If someone had told me six months ago that I was going to be marrying the love of my life, I would have probably wanted to punch them in the throat. (I see the appeal now).
I chuckled aloud.
It has been the greatest honor of my life to officially marry you.
I know it’s not a big ceremony, and that you said you didn’t really want one anyways, but I’m just happy that you agreed to doing the ‘ceremony’ the courthouse offered.
To see you walk down the aisle, in the dress that you’ve stubbornly refused to let me see yet, my heart is racing just thinking about it.
You are going to look breathtaking. I’m warning you now, I’ll probably cry.
And I’m so, so, so happy that Sebastian is going to walk you down the aisle.
I’m so grateful that you are able to rebuild your relationship, that you still get to carry a piece of your brother with you.
I know that he wasn’t always a good person to you, that he did some very terrible things that you and I both hate him for, but I also know how much you still love him, and I know that you miss him.
I know you keep saying you can’t wait to get to the ‘good’ part, the parts where your past isn’t still hurting you through nightmares and flashbacks…but, baby, this is the good part. We don’t have to wait for it.
I’ve got you.
You’ve got me.
And we’ve got our entire family currently fawning over you in the living room as I write this.
I didn't realize there was a part of me missing until I lost you all those years ago, when I realized that you were my puzzle piece. Without you, I'm imcomplete. But together, All your jagged pieces perfectly match all of mine, and we fit perfectly. I feel whole when you're in my arms.
I know these past three months have been hard, more than hard, but every day that I get to wake up next to you, that I get to call you mine, that I get to kiss you, that I get to hold you…every day with you is like heaven.
You and I were meant to be, and God made sure we would be.
I’ll never regret meeting you in high school, and I’ll certainly never regret meeting you in Anchorage.
I love you. All of you. Always.
See you out there, beautiful.
xx
Your shitbird
I swiped away the tear that had fallen, removing my glasses from my face so I could lay down.
One thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days.
I was done just surviving.
I was in love. I was happy, more and more as the days since my return passed. I was healing, slowly, and not always in a linear direction. And I felt complete.
I had a family. One that spoiled me with attention and love.
One that held me when I cried, celebrated with me when I hit thirty days clean, and let me scream and break every dish in the kitchen cabinets during a bout of panic-induced rage following a particularly nasty nightmare.
One that helped me not live in fear, helped me to find closure knowing that the demons from my past were dead.
I had survived for nearly twenty-three years.
And I’d never, ever forget the things I’d lived through.
But I was ready to move on, to accept the fact that bad shit happened in this fucked-up world, and that it wasn't my fault.
I wasn't weak. This world may have been broken, but I could see the beauty in it.
Because I had hope. Hope for a future that was filled with the best days to come.
Because the version of Javier that had come to me in that cell was right. God didn’t want me to die yet.
Shiloh Magdalena Tellez might have died five years ago, but Emory Reznikovsky…she was alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.