She’s gone. 

She’s really gone.

I didn’t think anything would actually happen. Letting her walk away from me.

Worst thing possible.

I should have stopped her. I should have screamed for her. She probably wouldn’t have heard it. The parking lot of the store is milling with people.

But, I should have.

She should still be here.  Standing on the sidewalk. Not collapsed on the pavement.

The truck. It came from nowhere. If I wasn’t so caught up in our fight, I could have helped.

There’s nothing I can do. Blood everywhere. Her chest, her head, her arms and legs. Her neck, it’s bent at an awkward angle.

People run to her. Their cheeks red and rosy from the screaming wind. The clouds threaten to spill open her favorite white flakes.

Phones are whipped out. The murmurs of voices having hushed conversations float around me.

All I see is her.

Lying there. The cold cement stained with crimson geometric patterns, that run with the white fire lines.

gone

Gone

GOne

GONe

GONE

A gasp escapes from me. I open my eyes and sit up on the couch.

She’s still here. Curled into a tiny ball on her side.

Slowly her chest rises and falls, showing me that she’s fine.

The nightmares are getting worse.