Huntress

Chapter 55

I knew this place. I knew it, but not well. Somehow, I knew it was not my own. The man was here. The blond man. And two women in scrubs. One of them had helped him put me in the wheelchair, the other was walking him through paper work. The first woman in scrubs was humming and putting my feet into the fluffiest socks that I had ever seen. Were they mine? Did they come with the room? Was this some kind of spa or hotel?

"You're going to be alright, Georgia," the man murmured, coming to stand in front of me. Milo, his name was Milo. I didn't understand why I couldn't remember that. But I couldn't remember why I was here either.

"We'll take good care of her. I promise," the nurse said, cocking her head to offer me a little smile. It was a little too sad to be genuine though. "I just can't believe that her parents went so fast and so close together. And there were no signs either."

My parents. My parents were dead. My father who had the sweetest crowsfeet around his eyes from smiling and laughing through all of his years. My mother who hated that she hadn't gotten him a proper regiment early enough. They were gone. Dead. Were they already buried in plywood, six feet under?

That's where I was. I was in their room. This was the home I had put them in. and now it was my turn. Because I was sick, just like they had been. Would I die like they did?

I was dancing. The forest was spinning around me at a dizzying rate, but I wasn't concerned that I was moving too fast or that my partner couldn't keep up. He would always keep up with me.Tthe strong arms wrapped around my waist were a testament to that. He was there, ready to catch me when I stumbled and tumbled.

"I want to dance forever," I said to the spinning sky above me.

"I will dance with you as long as you wish," he murmured back.

Silver eyes that sang like pure mercury. A perfect mouth that could have told me a thousand promises. Cheekbones that were cut front the finest stone.

"Stay with me. Please. I don't understand what is happening to me. I need you with me," I begged.

He was slipping. I could feel him getting thinner under my fingers. I could cling to the fabric of his jacket, but it wouldn't stop him from going. I didn't know how I knew this would be over, but something was calling to me. Something was drawing me away. I didn't want it. Nothing could be more important than being here.

"I'm staying," the man whispered back. "But you need to leave."

I blinked at the world around me. It was a church with all of the wooden pews and the statues of a man on a cross and the priest in the robes. Maybe I had known this place at one point, but I didn't know it now. And I didn't know all of the people I was seeing either. But I knew what all of the black meant. And I knew the two faces staring out at the crowd from photographs. My parents. The funeral. It had come and I wasn't even sure how.

A blond mop moved on my left. Milo, it was Milo.

A priest was droning on. "A loving father who would have moved mountains for his children, for anyone in need."

I didn't want to be here. No child ever wanted to go through their parents' funeral. No matter if it was the natural course or not. But no child should have to blindly watch the funeral pass by either. I should have been up there. I should have picked the flowers that mom loved, should have brought her special vase. I should have driven the old Subaru here listening to the music my dad had loved. And I should have been telling all these people – nursing staff, ex-coworkers, family friends, relatives – just what they missed out on when they left. I should have reminded them what my parents would have done for them. I should have felt tears pooling, felt my lips trembling, felt the words get stuck in my throat.