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I don’t go to funerals.
The mournful atmosphere; the quiet, saddened faces; the tears; it’s normally all too much for me. I prefer to mourn on my own.
But this is her. And she was mine.
I make an appearance at the funeral. I was her boyfriend, of course I had to. I walk in, avoiding the sympathetic looks and mumbled words of apologetic voices. What were they sorry for? They didn’t kill her.
In the end, I guess I did.
It was a tragic accident, a hunt gone wrong. We took down a pack of werewolves, but missed killing one. It attacked her from behind, tearing her to pieces before we were able to call her name. We ran to her, and sat, holding her as she took her final breath. Her last word was my name.
We were going to give her a proper hunter’s funeral, but Sam knew how close she was with her family. He suggested we send her back to them, and give them a chance to say goodbye. So we did. And here we are, staring down at her still corpse, wounds covered in bandages.
She lies there in bright dress, a solemn face. The complete opposite of how she was alive. She wouldn’t leave the bunker without her black leather jacket and dark jeans. Her face was never without a smile, her eyes never without laughter. Yet here she lay, eyes closed. I grip the edge of the coffin, knowing that I’ll never again see them shine.
Sam is there. He places a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. He leans in to whisper, “It’s okay to cry.”
I reach up, brushing away the few tears that escaped. “I’m fine, Sam.” I say roughly.
He sighs, and leaves me alone. I watch him walk over to her parents. I see him hug them. They will never know the truth about their daughter’s death. No one will, but me and Sammy. No one will know how I leapt on the monster, stabbing it through the heart with my silver knife. They won’t know how I pushed it off of her, watching as its claws retracted from her skin. They won’t know how I held her as she struggled for air, dying, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
They won’t know how much I loved her.
I leaned in, brushing a stray hair from her face. Her skin is cold, and my hand hesitates before holding her cheek. She used to lean into it. She won’t anymore.
I turn and leave the room, storming out to the Impala. I climb inside and drive away, unable to be there any longer. I vaguely recall Sam phoning me, asking me to come back. I vaguely recall debating how to end my life. I end up next to the bank of a river. I climb out of my car, and walk to the edge, staring down into the water only a few feet deep.
The pain is unbearable. I’ve never felt anything that hurt as much as this. I vent my anger, screaming and swearing, throwing rocks into the water, and punching nearby trees. By the time I collapse, weak and exhausted, I have a sore throat and a bloody fist to show for it. I close my eyes, leaning back against a tree, and let the tears flow. They burn hot down my face, stinging a cut I seem to have gained just under my eye. I cry until everything is gone, and then wait for the emptiness sets in.
I put back up the mask, and hop in my car, driving back towards the town. It’s dark now. I’ve been gone for hours.
I pull up at my destination, staring out the front window reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, I climb out and walk through the gates. I walk for what seems like hours until I find it. Her stone. The dirt is fresh under my shoes, alerting me to the truth. She is here. She is in a box ten feet below where I now stand. She will never see the sunlight again, or ride in the Impala with the wind in her hair. She will never watch another action flick, or beat me and Sam at some crappy board game. She won’t dance around the bunker to her favourite music, pulling me along as well when she notices me watching.
I sit down, my back to her stone. I will never again hear her sing off key to some song in the car. I won’t see the proud look on her face when she finishes a difficult hunt. I won’t hear her cry softly at night as she reads her favourite books. I won’t feel her lying next to me, and I won’t hear her soft voice calling for me in the dark. She is gone, taken from me forever, because of a mistake I made.
I put my head in my hands, too worn out to cry. This is all my fault. She is dead because of me, because I didn’t check we had finished the job before I began celebrating. She shouldn’t have even been there that day. She was sick and we told her to stay home, but she didn’t. If I had only forced her to...
I shake my head. Self pity wasn’t going to bring her back. Nothing would bring her back now.
I stare up at the sky. Hopefully she is up there. Hopefully she is reliving her greatest hits. I smile a little, in spite of my anger. Maybe I’m there with her, or, a memory version of me. I hope I am. The version of me there will protect her better than I did.
* * *
Sam finds me there the next morning, still looking up. He drags me back to the motel, where I fall asleep instantly. I awaken a while later, and leap out of bed. I quickly get packed, pausing to take a quick shower and change.
I nudge Sam’s shoulder to wake him up. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” He mumbles.
I roll my eyes. “My girl was killed just a few days ago. I need to hunt. I need to kill some sons of bitches.”
He looks up, alarmed at my sudden change in attitude, but he doesn’t question it. He gets up and a few minutes later we’re on the road.
I don’t know where we’re heading, and I don’t know what we’ll find when we get there. All I know is, I need revenge, and I will take down every monster that comes across our path in order to get it.
I owe her that much.