THIRTY-SEVEN
They say that life beyond death is subject to the life that has been lived.
I do not agree with this sentiment on the basis that if this were the case, I would not have been granted an afterlife of solitude and loneliness.
For an entire year, I’ve roamed the manor grounds, occupying myself with the ongoings of the Gravenhurst Manor staff.
Stuck in the in between, unseen by all those with a mortal beating heart. That is, until her.
Verena Gravenhurst captured my attention like a beautiful storm.
Captivating to watch but absolutely lethal when necessary.
Her sharp tongue and clever wit were not to be challenged by anyone who could not match her banter.
I fell right into her orbit, transfixed by the simple way she would crinkle her nose when she’d get annoyed.
I fell for her heart, but I fell even deeper for her soul.
There’s no explanation as to why she is the only living being that could cast her eyes upon my soul.
Yet, there she was, stepping out of the town car, her deep blue eyes glaring through me like the dagger that stripped me of my life.
Her likeness called to mine, and I knew from that very moment, I was eternally screwed.
Reed Sullivan ripped away a part of my heart once again by plunging the dagger through hers.
I felt helpless, unable to save her, standing by with an absolute wrath that could flood an entire ocean.
But then she came to me, and I felt the way her delicate flesh grazed upon my own.
The softness of her lips and the feel of her breath as she whispered sweet nothings in my ear.
I wanted to keep her. To bask in this glorious love for all of eternity. But alas, I could not.
Her return to the other side was inevitable. My little crow possesses a fire within her so fierce, she’s destined to unleash her fury upon those who have harmed the ones that she loves. To seek justice for those she has lost. So I can’t be selfish, as much as it breaks my own heart.
Almost two months have passed since I’ve been graced with the ability to marvel at her beauty.
Two months have passed since I last heard the melody of her sweet laughter.
My patience is thinning, and my agitation grows with every second that ticks by.
I’m stuck here, within the confines of the manor grounds.
Unable to leave and be by her side during a time so daunting.
It’s enough to send me into complete madness.
Leaning against the gates of the garden, where Verena first captured my eye, I wait…and wait for what feels like an infinite amount of days. I light up a cigarette and watch the ash burn down to the bud with no intention to inhale this toxic release.
Gravel crunches beneath tires as the Gravenhurst cab comes into view.
Impatience riots in my chest with each passing second.
When it comes to a stop in front of the manor, my lungs forget themselves.
A head of purple hair, impossible to miss, steps out of the vehicle.
A moment too long passes before another figure follows Mauve out.
Verena. My beautiful Verena. Air crashes back into my lungs the moment my eyes land on her.
Long black hair spills over her shoulder in glossy waves, and I ball my hand into a fist at my side, my fingers yearning to thread through it; to touch her, even in the simplest way.
She’s thinner than she should be, and there’s a sombre expression on her face that wasn’t there before.
Like pain has finally cracked her wide open, and reshaped her into something new, something fragmented.
But she’s breathing, she’s here, and for the first time since the living stole her from me, I feel like I can breathe too.
My feet move towards her before I tell them to.
“Verena,” I call out, though my voice cracks.
She doesn’t react, not even a twitch, not even an inkling of recognition.
Mauve says something gentle, guiding her forward, and Verena takes careful steps as she approaches the front door of the manor.
Her eyes lift, and she looks around, searching.
She’s looking for me, and my heart hammers in my chest, trying to escape my body to get to her.
I can’t be mad at it; it belongs to her, after all.
Verena’s blue eyes land on me, and my entire existence stills.
But as if I never existed, they slide past me, through me, like I’m nothing but air.
“No,” I mutter to myself in disbelief. My stomach drops. No, she’s just disoriented, she’s tired, she’s just— “Verena!” I say again, louder this time. “I’m here, little crow.”
I step directly in front of her as Mauve helps her up the stairs, close enough that if she were still with me, she would have felt my breath against her neck.
I watch her eyes flicker briefly, and my heart leaps with stupid hope.
She can’t see me, and that realization has my world tilting on its axis.
I lift my hands, waving them around like a madman trying to get her attention.
“Verena, look at me, please, baby. I’m right here,” I beg, but the attempt is futile.
She doesn’t react, just takes another step forward.
I reach for her without thinking, my fingers no longer able to keep to themselves.
They ache for her warmth, for proof that she’s real.
Proof that I’m not alone in this invisible hell.
But my hand passes through her like smoke.
Everything in me aches with something far worse than death, like I’m riddled with grief that I’ll never shake.
Verena’s face hardens with worry. Mauve watches her closely.
“Hey,” she says softly, her voice tight with worry.
“You alright?” Verena swallows, like she’s trying not to cry and nods.
But her eyes are still searching for me, like she can feel me in the air, like her soul is reaching for me the way mine is for her.
“I just thought…” she says, shaking her head. “I thought he would be here.”
“Verena…” My voice breaks on her name.
Her hand reaches for the door, and I step in front of her, reckless with grief at a desperate last attempt to have her notice me, trying to force myself back into her world through sheer will alone.
“Mauve!” I snap, turning towards her. “Mauve, tell her I’m here.
I’m right here!” But Mauve doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t hear a thing. Of course, she doesn’t.
Because I am dead.
And she’s alive.
Their bodies pass through mine like a breeze, as the door shuts behind me.
Tears swell in my eyes, and I realize I was right about one thing.
Hope is a fickle, useless thing; because whatever thread tied me to Verena, whatever miracle allowed her to see me…
it no longer exists. Maybe coming back to life meant losing the part of her that was connected to me, leaving us entirely severed.