She’s crying in her sleep again. I didn’t even know that was humanly possible. Most nights she just mumbles and whines, but tonight there are actual tears glistening in the moonlight. I watch as moisture slides down the side of her cheek. I long to brush it away, to lean in and hold her close as she cries for me, but I can’t. She knows I’m here, but she can’t feel me. I can’t feel her either and if I wasn’t already a dead man, it would kill me.
Dying sucks. One minute you’re looking into the eyes of the woman you love—shocking, blue pools of ice staring down at you, and the next you’re standing next to her, looking down onto your own empty body. I’m the soul of the man I used to be, a wisp of humid air that sometimes moves her hair, but that’s all I am, and until forever is over, that’s all I’ll ever be.
Death is not a journey, it’s a prison. One where you can see and hear everything around you, but you can’t respond. There’s no laughter, there’s no joy, just an unmistakable ache that isn’t painful…an ache that lies upon your unmoving heart and settles into your stomach. If it weren’t for Thaddeus I’d go mad. I’d run the hallways of Mage’s home marking the path with ungodly screams that no one could hear. I’d beat upon the furniture and watch as it didn’t dent. I know these things because I’ve broken before. I’ve run the halls screaming and beat against the walls, but the walls don’t move and the people don’t blink. I’m nothing but a watcher of her and my soul is altered every time she cries for me.
I spend most nights on the balcony outside of Mage’s room. Sometimes when the moonlight hits my hands the right way they look touchable. My fingers look strong again and not like iridescent strands of clouded air. It makes me feel real, keeps me hanging on for just one more hour. Sleep doesn’t exist for me anymore and some nights I watch the moonlight on my hands until the dawn peeks through and I become sheer again.
That was the kind of night I had. And now, as the morning light slips through the lofty oaks surrounding the house, I know my living moment is dying.