Crash And Burn
The bike roared to life on the very first try.
I hated that. After everything—the countless nights spent dreaming, wishing for it to be mine again—there should have been some kind of relief, some spark of joy.
But instead, it just felt... hollow. Like another thing Mike had fixed, another piece of the past I couldn’t truly grasp back.
As the sun sank behind my back, I rode aimlessly, without a destination, just trying to feel the bike beneath me—this machine that held so many memories, both beautiful and broken.
My mind drifted back to that rain-soaked night—the relentless drops pounding against my helmet, drowning out everything else as I screamed into the silence, searching for some meaning in the chaos.
Lilly's aunt didn't bother to show up for the service. She merely signed the paperwork with a faint sigh, a silent resignation to her brother’s shortcomings, as if his loss was just another burden she had to endure.
Lee stood there, grip tight on the papers, his body rigid with raw emotion, as he handed the fragile information to the funeral director.
His hands, cold clung to the keys to the cabin like a final, desperate lifeline he couldn't bear to let slip away.
Weeks of relentless searching had led him nowhere—until last week, when Dad unexpectedly met Uncle for drinks. And when Lee spoke of the cabin, Dad—without hesitation—took it. I didn't even know until last night that it was his.
"Today, I want her buried under the willow tree," Lee’s voice broke, heavy with unspoken grief. "Tell me what it costs. Just tell me. I’ll pay whatever it takes." His words quivered with a mix of determination and heartbreak, buried beneath a facade of calm.
“Sir, it’s not—”
“I don’t care about the rules or the reasons. Just make it happen today,” he cut in fiercely, pulling out his wallet and slamming his card onto the counter.
I grabbed his arm,trying to hold onto him, failing to hold onto any semblance of control in this chaos of grief.
But he shook me off, cold and distant. “Let me go, Charlotte. She needs to rest. I won’t find peace until she’s laid to rest,” he said, voice sharp with pain, then turned and walked back to the door.
The funeral director’s voice was gentle but firm.
“Miss Callahan, please fill out these forms. And share the address so we can make the arrangements.” The clipboard in my hand was filled with endless questions, each one starker than the last. I could feel my hands shaking uncontrollably, tears burning behind my eyes as I scribbled answers.
By the time I finished, I watched in silent agony as they loaded her casket into the hearse. My gaze fell on the mass of lilies—so thick, so beautiful, yet so painfully symbolic—waiting to be transplanted, to become her final resting place. Fuck.
Lee’s bike was gone when I stepped onto mine.
He didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to face what was coming.
His card was tucked away in my pocket—the cold metal that always seemed to hold the answers, the things that could fix the unfixable.
I trailed behind the hearse at a sluggish pace, a single bike leading the mournful procession.
Every mile felt like a bitter reminder that she deserved so much more—so much more than this stoic, black box crawling down the highway like no one cared, like her life had been reduced to just another passing moment on an endless road.
My eyes fixated on the trees rushing past, anything to divert my gaze from the car, from the casket, from the crushing reality that threatened to shatter everything I was holding together. I was building a wall brick by brick, to keep the pain out, to hold back the chaos threatening to drown me.
Clouds gathered thick and heavy just as we turned onto that dirt road. The yellow backhoe sat silent, its engine still warm from work recently done. The willow’s limbs were pulled back, out of the way, and the freshly dug grave looked so impossibly dark—like an abyss waiting to swallow her whole.
I said nothing as I stepped down from my bike and approached Lee, who stood there with a small box crutched in his hand.
His voice was barely above a whisper. “Happy birthday,” he mumbled, passing it to me.
It was late, so late it burned with regret, but we both knew why. Neither of us dared to say it aloud.
I opened the box slowly, revealing a tiny black lighter.
I turned it over in my hand, feeling its weight, noticing the delicate lily etched softly on the bottom.
When I looked at him, unspoken questions filling the silence, he finally spoke.
“She saw you starting to smoke. Asked me to have it engraved… so you’d know she was always watching, even from afar. ”
Tears blurred my vision as I nodded, wiping them away. We watched in silence as the casket was lowered into the ground, silence broken only by the nod of the funeral director and the workers tossing handfuls of dirt onto her final resting place.
Rain began to drizzle softly on us, each drop like a tiny ache deep inside. We stood there, hearts heavy, waiting—for the pain to finally stop, for the ache to transform into peace.
As the last clump of earth settled, I couldn’t bear to watch her lilies being placed in the ground, to see her memory buried beneath the soil.
I shoved the lighter into my pocket and fueled my bike with aching hope.
I needed to escape—to anywhere but here, anywhere but this heartbreak.
With one last, aching look back, I stripped away and drove into the rain, searching for a way to breathe again.
I drove with a fury fueled by heartbreak, my eyes blurred from the relentless tears that burned like fire, my lungs aching from screams torn from the depths of my soul.
Every ounce of agony inside me surged like an unstoppable tidal wave, crashing and pounding with ferocious intensity.
Thunder roared overhead, lightning ripping through the sky as if the heavens themselves were trembling with my pain.
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, mirroring the storm within me—a storm so violent it threatened to tear me apart.
I should have pulled over. I should have stopped and waited for this hellish storm to pass.
But I couldn't stop the images—her smile, her nose, the warmth of her hugs, the scent that I’ll never forget—flooding my mind like a cruel nightmare.
Every memory was a dagger stabbing through my heart, relentless and unforgiving.
It haunted me, refusing to let go, tormenting my soul with her lost presence.
I screamed until my lungs burned, tears mixing with the rain as I begged for her—desperate, clawing for her to be alive, to be still here with me.
Not buried beneath six feet of dirt, not gone forever.
The cold rain and my tears blurred everything in front of me, but I kept driving, pushing forward in defiance of the darkness consuming me.
I pulled on the throttle harder, the cold rain slashing at me like cruel, fiery lashes—each drop a searing punishment for Lilly’s death, each one a reminder that I was powerless to save her.
Then, out of nowhere, the world spun—my body was flung through the air, caught in a chaos of collision.
In that fleeting moment, I saw her—her laughter, so bright and alive, right beside me, mocking the darkness that had taken her.
My body slammed against the cold concrete, skidding to a halt next to a lonely tree.
I lay there—hurt, shaken, broken—yet somehow still standing.
The rain continued to pour, relentless and unforgiving, as I lay there battered, tears streaming as I looked through that scratch-filled visor.
I saw her laughing—her joy echoing in my mind—because when the tears finally dried and the screams ceased, it was her laughter that took its place, ringing through the storm in my shattered soul.
Present day
I hadn’t realized that muscle memory had taken over, that my bike was only two streets away, until suddenly I tore my head out of the haze of my thoughts.
In that fleeting moment beneath the dim overhead light, I saw her—her golden hair wild and untamed, slipping effortlessly into the car.
A radiant smile stretched across her face as she spoke to the driver with such ease and joy.
The bike trailed behind her, almost as if it clung to her regardless of my wishes.
Was it pure coincidence that I saw her sneaking away?
Or was it Lilly whispering to me, urging me to let her go?
I couldn't tell. But in that moment, driven by a mixture of longing and instinct, I followed—because sometimes, the only thing left to do is chase what’s fading away, even when it hurts.