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“We can get married whenever, wherever, and however you want.”
“I don’t need much,” I tell him. “Just give me a weather forecast, baby. One day, we’ll watch dark clouds roll in after sunset, and just tell everyone we know to meet us in the woods. And that’ll be it.”
He smiles, then kisses my lips. “I love you,” he says, then removes the ring from the box and slips it on my finger. “Always.”
I pull his body back into mine, but there’s something not quite right—a ringing from somewhere nearby in the forest.
‘Wait,’ I think. ‘This isn’t how it happens. I remember everything about that night, and I don’t remember this sound.’
Then, the rain seems to stop and everything becomes fuzzy.
I’m alone in the dirt. Just me and that sound. I look down at my hand; the ring is gone. Then I’m on my hands and knees, frantically searching for the things I’ve lost.
“Ty!” I shout, panicking. “Come back!”
The sound gets louder until it pulls me back to reality. It wasn’t the forest ringing—it’s my cell phone.
‘No,’ I silently plead, refusing to open my eyes. ‘Five more minutes. Please…just give me five more minutes.’
The sound ceases, and I lie there, unmoving, refusing to open my eyes in an attempt to will my body to sink back into the memory. It felt so real—so real that the scar on my back burns the way it did when we finally got back to the truck and realized I was bleeding.
The phone on the table next to me rings again. It’s not going to work.
I see Ashley’s name on the screen, flip it open, and bring it to my ear.
“Hello?” I grumble.
“Oh my god!” she exclaims. “I heard the news! I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night! I’m sure you were really busy, but still…”
My heart stops in my chest. I roll over onto my back and hold my left hand out in front of my face, examining the oval rock on my ring finger, turning it slightly so that the light catches it.
It’s large enough that it borders on excessive. When he got down on one knee and opened the box last night, it took my breath away—all of it did. I couldn’t believe that all of this was actually mine—the man, the ring, and now this townhouse, too.
It’s a dream come true.
Except, well…my dreams were different last night. Now it just feels heavy, like maybe if I try to stand up, it would root me in place or eventually, I’d develop a permanent lean. People would ask, ‘What’s wrong with Amelia? Why is it that she has the gait of an eighty-year-old woman?’
‘Oh, that’s from the weight of her decisions, dragging her straight to hell,’ they’d reply with a laugh.
“Amelia? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, sorry. I got distracted…by the ring.”
“You have to send me a picture! I’m dying to see it. Maybe I could come over later, actually. Or we can meet for brunch. I don’t have to work until one.”
“Today is actually not great for me,” I tell her.
Because she’s out—the girl in the coffin. It’s been a while. It usually only happens at night when I’m drunk and lonely, and there haven’t been many of those nights in the past year or so.
It’s exceedingly rare that it happens like this—like a dream I can’t wake up from. But it’s become more common since things with James got serious. I feel her there more often, watching from behind the thinnest of veils, and I’ll feel it again—that feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is all wrong.
She’s doing more than just watching right now. It’s going to be a long day.
“Then you’re going to have to tell me everything now,” she says. “How did he do it?”
“Umm…”
The bedroom door opens, and I gasp, pulling the blankets to cover myself.
