Page 86 of All the Things We Buried

Of all the people walking this cursed earth, she was the one I loved most.

And out of all the lives that could have been taken, why did it have to be hers?

But that’s life. It doesn’t choose fair. It doesn’t care. It takes the best things from you so someone else can keep going. It tears out your favorite page so another story can begin. That’s the circle, the cruel, hollow circle we call life.

She was sick, her mind fractured like shattered glass. But her heart? That was fire. Wild and full of love. She burned so brightly, and I had promised her that when it was time, I would bury her myself. I promised her she would rest in Gloomsbury and never have to run again.

She stayed this time, so I could go.

I understand that now.

The house always takes. It never gives. And she gave herself to it, so it would let me leave.

I poured the last atoms of my strength into the grave. My muscles screamed. My vision blurred. But I kept going until the last shovel of dirt settled over her body. When it was done, I collapsed beside the mound, dust clinging to my skin like grief.

“I never got to say I love you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “But words mean nothing without you here to hear them.”

“I never got to say goodbye,” I cried, choking. “But goodbyes are for people who won’t meet again.”

“You were my life, Trouble. And how the hell am I supposed to live without my life?”

I wiped the tears from my face with dirt-caked hands and stood.

She made me promise.

Burn it all. Let no one else be trapped here. Let the ghosts sleep.

I walked to the barn and rolled out the Harley. Set the helmet on the front step. Found the fuel I had hidden long ago, just in case. Then I walked the perimeter, poured a trail from the yard to the kitchen, up the stairs, into every room. I soaked the walls and the floorboards.

The house watched me, creaking, breathing, almost alive. It knew what was coming.

I stood at the porch with a match between my fingers. One strike. The flame hissed to life.

I lit the trail.

And I watched the house go up in fire.

Before the roof caught, I grabbed the helmet and slid it on. In the visor’s reflection, all I saw was the burning house and smoke curling into the sky.

I sat on the Harley and turned the key. The engine roared to life. A single tear slipped down my cheek inside the helmet.

She told me once to be safe.

“You told me to come back safe. Baby, I’ve never been safe a day in my life.”

The only place I ever felt safe was in her arms.

I drove away.

At the front steps of the burning manor, I saw her. She stood hand in hand with her mother. Her father was beside them. Mine too. Even Shadow stood there.

And this time, I saw it clearly.

Shadow wore my face.

But I had chosen a different fate.

I chose to leave.