That single word was enough to wake me from a fitful sleep wrought with dreams… and nightmares. In the dark gloom, my mind forced me back to that horrible day. A day of fire and blood and despair, when I lost my world. I didn’t realize that until I was in the police station, with a warm cup of hot chocolate, and listening and vaguely hearing the police officer explain about the explosion. Mostly my mind had been thinking that that was where my boyfriend had been waiting. Waiting for me.

Dead.

No.

My mind didn’t have this argument so much anymore. I had managed to shut down the part of my brain that insisted on reminding me about that day. But I’d changed since. Everyone noticed. They tried to cheer me up, and occasionally I’d smile at them, but there was never any real feeling behind it. I think they knew. They stopped trying after a while anyway.

Dead.

No. They never found bodies.

I was torn in two. Half of me continued life, the other half lost in a haze of whatever I could find to fill the void that sundered me. I didn’t turn to drink, but there are other ways to forget. Getting lost in your work is just as good as booze or drugs. My lost half comes back to haunt me in my dreams only and so I don’t sleep much anymore.

Dead.

I was told I should see someone. A psychiatrist or something. Only… what could they do? So I simply smile and say I’m fine, words that have as much truth as the smile itself. I pretend to be fine, and most people are shaken by this.

Dead.

The word that echoes through my mind… body… spirit…

Dead.

C o p y r i g h t :