Fight // WWE Dean Ambrose

Chapter 26

Deans messy handwriting covers the whole page, with words directed for his eyes only. I don't know why he's writing to his deceased girlfriend, but whatever it takes for him to cope is fine with me. As I stare down at the thin pieces of paper set gracefully in my hands, I think about what to do. I know that my curiosity is going to take over, and as much as I hate myself for invading his privacy, I know that now I know there here, they'll be too tempting to not read.
I decide to read from the oldest to most recent. I really shouldn't even be doing this at all, but I can't help myself...

Dear Renee.

How are you? I wish I knew where you are. I mean, I have a pretty good idea where you are... I was there when they buried you. That was a hard day.
I haven't seen you in such a long time, I almost forget how your blonde hair used to hang over your cheekbones or how you looked first thing in the morning. Although I don't think I'll ever be able to forget your infectious laughter. It was always the highlight of any day that I got to spend with you.
I hope you know I send my thoughts out to you twice, maybe three times a day, and I think of you constantly. Not getting the chance to say goodbye really screwed me up.

I still visit your old house. The government wanted to sell it, so I bought it, just so I could keep everything exactly the same, until I was ready. Maybe I'll never be ready.

1 1/2 years later and I still refuse to accept the fact that you're really gone. The wine glass that you used to always drink out of still has your favourite lipstick marks covering the rim, and I don't know if I will ever have the heart to wash the glass.

Your handprints are still moulded on all of the hearts that you touched, the echoes of the sky never going to forget your voice. The prints that you left on me, invisible to the naked eye, but every day I still feel your touch along my arms. Buried under layers of walls that I have built up around me since you've been gone, there's still a layer of me that begs to be released. A layer that you and only you have ever held of me. These are the thoughts that are always running through my mind like an endless reel of film, and this is why I don't think I could ever forget you.

Your presence lingers with me. Faint reminders of things you once said, of things you did, of the things you used to dream.

You were so young how could you leave us like that.

Of all the people in the world, the sinners, the criminals, out of everyone including myself why was it your precious life that was taken from us much too soon. Why was mine worth saving?
I can still see the Crimson traces of red that stained your beautiful forehead, and fell into your hair. Drip, drip, drip.
Like a nightmare the sound of the blood falling still haunts me to this day.
Lying in bed so late tonight, my safe haven, I know you never knew that would be your last night, your last breath.

All I can think about is you. How after that crash you never got the chance to open your eyes and be welcomed by a hospital room, instead you just never opened your eyes. How your heart stopped beating before they could get you into that ambulance, how you took that risk to save me. I think about how you took that chance. How I survived that tragedy, my own inner demons, yet the angel, inside of you, passed. I think about how I still walk this shitty earth, alone, while you died because of me.

I will never forget what the crash of the two cars connecting sounded like. The glass shattering that pierces through the the night. The unimaginable horror that passed through your eyes for a split second, before everything went silent.

Every morning when I wake up I pray it has all been one horrible, terrible nightmare. That you will still be sitting at my kitchen table, drinking your favourite coffee and waiting for me to get up so we can go for a morning drive together.
I'm the scum of the earth for letting anything happen to you, and I probably won't ever forgive myself.
I've recently found out sleeping was never where the nightmares hid. Sleeping is where memories of you lay, where I can see you happy and smiling for no matter how long. The real nightmare is when I wake up
Without you.
It's torture to have such a deep space between us.
I like to think you're still with me, beside me, and fighting with me through whatever I do, your soul is surrounding me.