The black night all around me, swallows me whole, chases me. My senses become overwhelmed to their breaking point, and I collapse onto the hard, black surface. I lay there shuddering, thoughts swirling in my head. I thought death was supposed to remove existence, not multiply it. Everything about this place is starting to make much more sense, but I’m not prepared to handle the truth. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding my demons, but now in death there’s nowhere to run. I have no control over what finds me here.
The little girl — she was me. I knew it the whole time, only I’ve gotten horribly good at denying things. I remember the river on that cold, dim evening. I remember my mischievous grin, my murderous thoughts. Mostly, I remember my little brother — his trusting eyes, his foolish mind. He’d made me mad earlier that day, which wasn’t a rare occurrence. I’d always had deep anger, even more so since Cyrus was born. He was the good one out of the two of us. I knew it, everyone knew it, but I hated it. Besides, Cyrus wasn’t without fault. Earlier that day he’d taken my diary to school and spilled my secrets all over the playground. He hadn’t meant any harm, just wanted to have some fun, but I decided it would be the last time.
I knew he was stupid; he’d do anything I asked. So, that evening I took him on a walk down to the river behind our house. The woods grew thick as we passed the old oak; Cyrus wanted to stop for a swing. I firmly told him no, and we continued on. When he asked me where we were going, I said, “To have fun.”
That was enough for him.
The river appeared quickly before us, much like it did here. Even then there was no fear in his eyes. He trusted far too much.
“Why are we here, Josie?”
“To be daredevils,” I told him. “Think you can jump in the river without being a scaredy-cat?”
“Um… I don’t know. Won’t I get hurt?”
“Of course not!” I said, but really I thought: Of course you will, idiot. It’ll probably kill you too. Either way, I’ll never have to be bothered by you again*.
“Okay Jo, as long as you promise you’ll follow right behind.” His round, brown eyes looked trustingly into mine. We’d always had the same eyes.
“I will,” I said quietly, doubts beginning to creep in. Maybe I hadn’t thought it through.
But it was too late — he was right at the edge. Regret consumed me as soon as I extended my hand to give him the gentlest push, just strong enough to make it entirely my fault. He went over the edge, his cries of victory quickly turning into cries of fear. Then nothing. I screamed, just as I did for the little girl. For me. I ran back home, but even then, I lied. I told my parents Cyrus fell by mistake; of course they believed me. His lifeless body was discovered the next morning, and even though it was my fault, and I lied, my tears were still very real.
The night after he was found, I looked out my bedroom window into the tree line. As tears blurred my vision, the branches made angry faces that bore into my gaze. I felt Cyrus’ soul lurking in there. Not angry, never angry. Just sad.
My whole life was quiet after that. I never told my parents, my husband, my children, not a soul. Everything I created was a lie, but I still had a life. The nerve I had. I only let the guilt creep in on the quietest of nights, in the darkest hours. The truth is, I always worried about seeing him again in the afterlife, if one existed. Now I know that existence does go on, but this is certainly no form of living. That little girl represented me, and proved I should’ve been the one who died. My life tells the tale of a coward, and I realize now how ignorant my fear of seeing Cyrus in the afterlife was. He is obviously in Heaven, and I am certainly in Hell. Doomed to exist in a place where nothing exists, for all eternity.
Heaven and Hell… what extraordinary concepts.
