Page 8 of Nemesync
Focus on something else, look up Z. Look at the stars. Feel again.
The beautiful sky…
I loved the night; I loved the stars, the wind, the moon, the deep blue that almost turned black but was illuminated by little sparkles. So beautiful.
She’s there now, because of you. Think about that.
These thoughts would never leave me. The guilt was so present, even if I did enjoy some aspects of life, I still felt like I shouldn’t because she couldn’t too.
The thing was, since her death, life never tasted the same. I was dying to feel something other than anger and resentment.
I got into my car and turned on the only thing that comforted me, music, and started driving. I wanted to make a detour to the cemetery at this hour, dressed as I was; I didn’t care.
I needed to see her and talk to her again. To make sure she knew I was overwhelmed with sadness. Even if I smiled looking at the sky it was because she loved it too.
I needed her to know that even if my mind drifted away from memories of her, my heart and soul were broken just to give her a part of them, so she would never feel lonely where she was now.
After sending a text to my father, telling him that I would leave the debrief of the information I had gathered during this meeting on his desk the next morning, I hit the road.
I accelerated, drove fast, eyes wet, loud music blaring.
Maybe I wanted to end it too?
To have a deep void in the heart, the desire to do nothing if the other is no longer there, not to breathe, not to walk, not to talk,nothing, is consuming.
So, this is grief? It sucks.
I arrived at the cemetery near the airport, turned off my car, stepped out, and slowly made my way into the vast and gloomy space, searching for the one who no longer wanted to live.
And there, I saw those flowers—purple lilies—adorning her stone. I was certain her father placed them there every week. He had avoided me since her death and had even moved out of state with his wife.
I would’ve done the same.
A small phrase was inscribed on the gravestone:An angel gone too soon.
Leaning towards the grave, I gently caressed the cold, dirt-stained stone with my fingers. Just a short while ago, there had been life underneath.
Grief hurts painfully at this moment. It’s a strange sensation, feeling as though it’s your own heart buried in that grave, despite another name adorning it. There’s just a single body beneath the stone, but two souls. That’s grief, the cruelest part of life.
I was going to avenge her; I made that promise to the entire world. No one would go unpunished, no matter how long it takes.
3
ZANAE
After spending a few minutes leaning over the grave, recalling her face, I stand up when I hear a noise behind me. Frozen, I delicately take my knife out of my bag and turn around to catch a glimpse of a silhouette.
A man, in a suit, approached me with a cigarette in hand. He was one of the shadows I thought I saw, along with the man watching me outside the bar. So, I’m not losing my mind?
“Are you lost, sir? Can I help you?” I say in a soft and innocent voice to lower his guard.
He crushes his cigarette on the ground, smiles gently, and meets my gaze. “I hope you can, Miss Dellé.”
Oh, he knows me.
What if he’s one of my father’s enemies? How did he manage to follow me without me noticing?
“I’m all ears.”
