A Ghost Among the Living

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

Why was she here when they weren’t?

Eliza walked along the pier, her arms wrapped tightly around her midriff as if to ward off the morning chill, despite the fact that she couldn’t feel the coolness of the breeze on her skin. Nor could she feel the warmth of the sun beating down on her back.

If anyone were to pass her by, would they see the dark circles beneath her eyes? Would they notice her pale, gaunt face, skin stretched tightly over bones that were sharp and protruding. Her jeans hung loose on hips and legs that had grown thin, and her black shirt held extra fabric that swayed as she walked.

She surveyed the beach without really seeing, her mind filling in the image with memories from years past, she’d spent most of her life swimming in the sea and lying on the soft sand. It had been here that she’d met Jackson, and here where they’d had their wedding. And still, the feel of this place, once so familiar, was now foreign. Before it had been light with laughter, and now it was heavy with tears.

But she wasn’t crying, she hadn’t for weeks. And she hadn’t spoken in just as long. She was only here again because her life wasn’t worth living. It should have stopped when her heart did. It should have ended when theirs did.

Eliza reached the end of the pier and looked down, watching the waves crash against the base. Would it hurt? She didn’t remember the last time, couldn’t recall how water had filled her lungs as she had finally been forced to gasp for air when there was none. Drowning was an experience she wished had been her last. Memories crashed into her like the waves against the sand.

…a jolt of biting electricity running through her as the EMT had restarted her heart …her throat and lungs burning as she gagged on water…Samuel’s cold, dead eyes staring at her before the tarp covered his head…a desperate, strangled scream she didn’t recognize coming out of her mouth…

They ‘d all looked so similar underneath their black coverings. Her boys… her sons… David and Samuel were mirror images of their father, Jackson. Dark hair, pale skin, lips drawn and purple, eyes mercifully closed. Why had people pulled her away from her family? Didn’t they know she belonged lying next to them, dead, on the sand?