[ She hates it— having to feel more than one thing at one time. The nausea is overwhelming, a byproduct of her grief.

But something else bubbles in her chest, a cruel sort of satisfaction (almost happiness, but not quite). Because maybe, just maybe, that means he misses her as much as she misses him.

Maybe, he will at least wait to forget her until she has passed on from this place. ]

He tried.. he wanted me to know too. But I couldn't.. I didn't want to know. Because when he told me he loved me, I was afraid for the first time in a very long time.

[ She can't help the way the words tumble out. She is weak and these are burdens she has wanted to unload onto someone else for a very long time. ]

The sight of him petrifies me. I've avoided him like the plague.. even in death, I'm too weak to offer him any of what he deserves.