Body Swap Sequel: Remember me

Left for dead

“I died, Colton,” her angelic voice told me, in a cold undertone.

“Hailey?” I whispered, reaching out to touch her. She stepped backwards, away from my grasp.

“You left me to die.” Her whispers chilled me to the bone.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, I-”

“I would never have left you,” her voice was still a whisper, but it carried the impact of a sledgehammer, taking blows at my heart with each hateful word. “I would never have let you die.”

“I know! I know and I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done things differently. I tried… I tried to join you. I went into the ocean for you,”

“For me? Or for you? Did it even work? Are you here with me now?”

“…Yes, I’m here… I’m here now, Hailey, I’m here. I’m sorry,”

“You’re not here. You never are, and you never will be. I’ll never let you near me again. I’ll never let you hold me, let you kiss me, let you touch me. I’ll never let you feel my body pressed against yours, you’ll never hear me moan your name again. And most of all… I’ll never marry you. I’ll never be yours, Colton Hudson.” Her voice started fading as she backed away from me.

“No, no Hailey I’m here. I am. I love you. Please!” I screamed, reaching out to grab her and feeling myself fall towards the floor. My fingertips reached out in a final, feeble attempt to make contact but it was too late, she was gone, and I was suddenly awake in the spare bedroom in my house. Alone.

 ***

The days and months seemed to blend into one as I lived each day robotically. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing held any interest or vigour. Everything was bland, monotonous, unchanging. I would sit in the spare room for hours just thinking about her, trying to remember every single detail so that I would never forget her. Like the way she would smile when I pressed my lips against her cheek as a show of affection. The way she would look at me for a while without saying a word, and then peck the tip of my nose with her rose coloured lips. I memorized how she’d pull the side of her bottom lip between her teeth whenever she was trying to hold back from saying something, like the time I bought her an expensive, yellow dress, and she didn’t have the heart to tell me it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. Looking back at it now, I almost smiled at the thought of that stupid dress and how I hadn’t seen how alarming the neon, yellow colour really was. I remember how she’d do a little dance every time she cooked or got ready in the morning, and how she’d sleep in, in the morning with me, but then stay up late at night working on different projects. Hailey said that the night time helped her focus and helped let her creativity flow. She’d always keep the lights turned down low because the ambience would help her come up with a new plot for a novel or a new move for a dance sequence. I remember how Hailey would sit in the football stands silently while I was practicing late at night and watched me play on my own, and when I asked her why she’d been sitting in silence, she’d always smile and tell me that she loved to see me happy. In the studio, she’d close her eyes, sway her body to feel the rhythm of the music, and then burst into a crescendo of dance movements that flowed freely as if the floor was her canvas and she was the paintbrush.

“…ger called,” my mum turned to look at me after she stopped speaking. I was so stuck in my own world – my world with Hailey – that I had zoned out of the breakfast conversation we were having.

“Hmm?” I asked, not looking up as I stared down at my uneaten plate of food.

“I said that your manager called,” she repeated, ending with a small sigh. I frowned as I finally met her eyes.