Lost at the Start

3.

Which, I mean, it's unhappy because she's dead, but still.

Onyx meowed up at me. Apparently, she got it.

"I guess I see what you're saying," Jack said softly, a far-away look in his warm brown eyes. "I just...I don't believe this is happening."

"I don't blame you." How could I? "But it is. I'm sorry. I didn't plan for what would happen after I died." Not really, anyway. Not that I remembered. "I thought it would be all over. Clearly, I was wrong." And for the love of all pure, good, and decent, I wanted to know why I wasn't through with the world yet. More than anything.

We sat like that, our hands connected on the cat's back, the other feline in my lap, on the edge of his bed, in his otherwise empty (as far as I knew) house, for I don't know how long.

What else was I supposed to say? I'd told him I was sorry, that it wasn't his fault, and I'd tried to half-explain at least part of why I'd done what I'd done.

And I didn't know how I was supposed to leave, either.

Then I remembered: Oh, right. Details.

How could I forget?

"On that note," I started slowly, gently. "As I said before, I don't remember that last day at all. I think..." I hesitated and stifled a yawn. "I think knowing more about it would help. Maybe." I still wasn't sure about that—exactly how much good knowing would really do me, but even so, I did want to know. It felt wrong, somehow, that I couldn't remember on my own.

Jackson's hand twitched over mine. My heart jumped out of fear I'd disappear again.

His grip tightened ever so slightly on my hand. Considering everything that had already transpired, I guessed he was scared I'd vanish again, too.

"I...I've figured out already what kind of death it was." And therefore felt it best to not dredge that up again. "Apparently there was a note?" He nodded to confirm. "Everything else is what I'm missing now. Where I was, what the note said...Anything before or after...That stuff."

Did you notice anything "off" about me?

Was there any sign I had a plan?

If you knew, did you try to stop me?

I almost mentally questioned if he cared, but after seeing him today, it was obvious he did.

Truthfully, the root of the questions I was asking was based in if he knew me well enough to notice when something was wrong.

That was the one problem I'd had when I was alive.

Once upon a time, one day at school I'd been having a rough week, and for at least three days in a row, all I'd wanted when I saw Jackson between classes was a little support and some kind of physical confirmation he was there for me—a hug, hand squeeze, something.

Really, I'd known the physical confirmation was wishful thinking on my part. It'd been obvious we weren't anything like Mei and Alistair—not super huggy & feely. Still though, part of me had hoped it wouldn't be too much to ask when I was upset.

He hadn't even noticed anything was wrong.

Granted, I'd gotten good at inadvertently hiding my emotions over the years, so there was a chance his immunity to the subtle and my involuntary emotional shut-off were the problem, not Jackson himself.

Then, a few weeks later, I'd had an awful morning, and I ended up freaking myself out and making it mentally worse because what I really needed was a hug, and I wanted it to be from him, but I was ultimately too afraid of what would happen if I reached for him between classes that I knew it wasn't going to happen.