Chapter 37
That clearing, it really was a beautiful place to die.
Light coming down through the trees like it had nowhere else to be.
Those white flowers hanging there, heavy, almost brushing the ground, moving just enough to remind you the world was still breathing.
Yeah, it would’ve been perfect. So imagine my disappointment when I woke up, hours later, still fucking alive.
I didn’t even move at first. Just lay there, staring up through the branches, waiting for it to correct itself.
Like maybe I’d made some kind of mistake and my body just needed a second to catch up, but it didn’t.
I closed my eyes again, properly this time, tried to lean back into it.
Into that peaceful stillness I’d slipped into before.
I forced myself to go still, to let everything go slack, like maybe if I just stopped enough, my body would finally get the message to die.
Spoiler: it didn’t work.
Nothing happened, just me lying there like an idiot, pretending I had any control over when this ends.
I probably would’ve died if I’d just stayed down.
If I’d just left it alone and let my body do what it was already starting to do, but I’m not built for that.
Never have been. Even when it comes to dying, apparently I don’t have the patience for it.
So I pushed myself up instead.
Hands in the grass, digging into the soil like I needed something to hold onto.
My arms trembled under my own weight enough that it annoyed me, but I forced myself upright anyway.
The air had changed. It wrapped around me differently now, cooler against my skin, creeping over the places where the blood had dried and pulled tight.
A faint breeze moved through the clearing and brushed over me, like it was testing if I was still there.
I was, unfortunately. I sat there for a moment, hunched forward, elbows on my knees, trying to get my head to catch up with the rest of me.
Everything lagged when I moved, like the world didn’t quite follow along fast enough, but there was something back in my body now, enough to not stay down.
My legs held, but they didn’t feel right.
There was a hesitation in them, like they weren’t convinced this was a good idea, like they were waiting for me to drop again.
I stayed there, swaying slightly, staring ahead at nothing in particular, feeling my pulse in places I didn’t want to notice, then I moved.
One step, then another, no destination or direction.
I just walked. Because sitting there any longer, in that clearing, in that stillness, it felt too close to something I had already failed to do and I couldn’t stand that.
So I left it behind without looking back, pushing through the trees again, not knowing where I was going, just knowing I couldn’t stay so I kept moving.
One foot in front of the other, like my body had found a pace it could survive in.
The forest didn’t fight me this time, it just let me pass through it.
Branches brushing my arms, leaves catching on the dried blood on my skin, pulling at it in small, irritating tugs.
I could feel it crack when I moved, tight and sticky, but I didn’t wipe it off.
Didn’t feel like it belonged to me anymore anyway.
My head felt clearer, things sat where they were supposed to instead of crashing into each other all at once, and because of that, I could actually think about it. About what happened at the house, about him. I swallowed, my throat dry in a way that had nothing to do with thirst.
Was he dead?
The question stayed there, moving with me.
I went back to it in my head. His face under me, the way his eyes had locked on mine.
The way his hands had stopped fighting properly kept replaying in my head.
Still moving, but empty by the end, his body running on reflex right before everything finally went still.
I pressed my teeth together and breathed out slowly.
The thought settled into me with a kind of calm that honestly felt more disturbing than panic would’ve.
There was no horror waiting for me on the other side of it, no sudden collapse under everything I’d done.
Just acceptance. Like some part of me had already been walking toward this for years, and all I’d done now was finally reach it.
I dragged my hand briefly over my mouth, tasting metal that still hadn’t gone away.
If he was dead, then that was it. No more voice in my ear, no more being watched, no more being pulled back into whatever he decided I was supposed to be. I let that sit for a second, tested it.
Freedom.
That’s what it should feel like, right?
I frowned, because it didn’t, not really.
Lighter, maybe, but not free. Because even if he was gone, everything he put in me wasn’t.
That feeling didn’t vanish just because his heart might have stopped.
A breath left me through my nose, dry and strange, hovering somewhere uncomfortably close to a laugh.
What if he wasn’t?
What if I’d just left him there, half alive, breathing, coming back.
The image flared across my mind, him opening his eyes again, dragging in air, standing up, coming after me.
I stopped for half a second, then kept walking.
If he was alive, he’d find me. And if he was dead, then it didn’t matter anymore.
Either way, it was done. I wasn’t going back.
I kept moving, deeper into the trees, letting the distance grow between me and that house, between me and whatever I’d left behind on that floor.
Not running anymore, just walking, like there was nowhere else I needed to be.
I didn’t notice the trees thinning out at first. Then suddenly there was more space between the trunks, less fighting from the forest every time I pushed forward.
The ground beneath my feet started leveling out too, the roots slowly giving way to something flatter and easier to move across.
I kept walking, didn’t look up, not until the forest finally let go of me.
The last line of trees broke behind me and suddenly there was a path under my feet instead of dirt and leaves.
Narrow, worn down by footsteps that weren’t mine.
It cut forward through open space, bordered by low grass that had been left to grow just enough to feel unkempt.
There was something about it, something familiar, so I kept following it.
What else was I going to do?
The air changed with the path, less dense, easier to breathe, even with my ribs still protesting every inhale.
My steps grew more even as I moved along the path, the rhythm settling into something automatic again.
And then, it started to click. My eyes lifted a little more now, scanning without really thinking about it, until the shapes ahead of me shifted into something else.
Stone, rows of it. Some worn down, some newer.
All standing there in lines that stretched further than I could see from where I stood.
I stopped, for real this time. A graveyard, of course it was.
I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if there had been anything in me to carry it.
“... Right.” My voice sounded strange in the open air.
I stepped forward again, onto it. Gravel crunched faintly under my boots now as I moved between the first few stones, my eyes dragging over names I didn’t recognize, dates that didn’t mean anything to me.
But I already knew, before I saw it, before I even started looking properly.
This wasn’t just any place, it couldn’t be.
I dragged a hand down over my face, smearing whatever was left there across my skin without caring.
I remember thinking to myself, whether it was some kind of fucked up coincidence or if something decided to drag me there on purpose. Didn’t really matter though.
I glanced out over the rows again. She was somewhere in there.
I exhaled slowly, tension pulling through my jaw as I forced myself to take another step forward.
I’m already here, I thought, so I might as well see if I can find her.
I moved through the cemetery without any real direction at first, just walking between the graves, letting my eyes drift over them as I passed.
Some of them were clean, recently tended, fresh flowers laid out carefully, small candles placed in neat rows, melted wax still clinging to the glass from nights that hadn’t been that long ago.
Others were older.
Names worn down by time, letters half erased where the stone had given up before the memory had.
The ground shifted under my feet. Gravel in some places, soft earth in others where the grass had started to reclaim what used to be paths.
It wasn’t silent here, not completely. There was wind moving through the trees at the edge of the cemetery, leaves brushing together, a low, constant sound that filled the space without breaking it.
You would’ve liked it there, little Ghost. The peace and quiet of it.
I kept moving deeper. Rows blending into each other, names meaning nothing to me, dates that stretched back further than I cared to think about.
People who had lived entire lives and ended up reduced to a slab of stone and whatever someone decided to leave behind for them.
Some were remembered, some clearly weren’t, it didn’t take long before I started noticing the difference.
The ones that still mattered had color around them.
Signs that someone had stood there recently, straightened something, replaced something.