Sleep brings release and the hope of a new day. Waking the misery of being without you.

A steady breeze drags cool air across my huddled form, and I breathe in deeply, checking the wind for any sign that I'm not alone. There's nothing. Not even the smell of wildlife. Despite that small comfort, my back remains defensively pressed against the side of the house, my knees pulled against my chest. Staring down at the leaf covered driveway, I habitually twist a wrinkled tee shirt between my hands. The barest scent clings to the fabric. Just enough to clench at my heart when I bring the shirt to my face, pressing it gently to my cheek. I look to the spot where Tommy's Lincoln is usually parked. The panic that normally comes when he's not home is faint tonight, but I keep the link between our minds open and clear. Just in case.

The night sky is blocked out by the copse of trees and splintered roof. I glance up, seeing nothing but spider webs and wood. It's safer to stay on the porch, out of sight. Just in case.

My broken down Jetta sits in the same spot it's been for the past decade. The memory of Alex's fruitless labor to get it up and running for me is so strong that I can almost see him bent over the engine. I call out his name before I can help myself, the two syllables hanging in the air, unanswered. Sighing, I stretch my legs out in front of me, spreading the tee shirt across my lap. Reaching into the top of my boot, I pull out an iPod. A new model, sleeker and more modern than my own. My thumb grazes the screen, but I can bring myself to turn the device on. I want so badly to hear his voice again, even if only through the ramblings he recorded. But it won't be enough. I need to see Alex. Need to touch him. Need to talk to him.

My lip trembles and I make a mental note of how long I managed to go without crying tonight. I'd place it at at least an hour. Shame and sorrow run neck and neck in the battle of my emotions. I absently wipe a tear off of the iPod, smearing a streak of red across the screen. Holding the device with a gentle touch bordering on reverence, my voice is quiet as I speak down into my lap.

"I miss you, Alex. It's almost been a month..."

Trailing off, I glance around, paranoid. Satisfied that no one is looking or listening, I continue talking with no audience.

"It hasn't gotten any easier. Sailix said it will...one day. I don't think so. How can it? Every night it feels like my chest is being torn open. Every night when I realize you're never coming back..." 

My right hand creeps up to claw lightly at my chest, I push the appendage back into my lap with my left hand, holding it still.

"It's so hard to keep trying. To keep living. If it wasn't for...I don't think I could do it. I don't want to live, but I don't want to die. I just don't want to be."

I wipe more tears from the iPod screen, using my fingers to make a barrier to further protect it.

"I know you'd want me to try. That's the only reason I am. I'm not living for me, anymore. I'm living for you. And Tommy. And Sailix. And Pyotr. And MacAllister." I give a watery chuckle. "I'm sorry I'm doing such a shitty job of it. I know I should try harder. I need to. I need to take care of everyone. I can't...I can't lose. I can't lose anyone else. I won't."

Raising my head, I look around the woods again. Part of me expects to see Alex approaching, perhaps summoned by my very words. Or maybe Tybalt, with some harsh but true brotherly advice. Hell, I'd even take Mongrel with his new no nonsense attitude. I remain alone.

"It's not like...it's not like I expected a fairy tale ending. I knew there wouldn't be white picket fences and grandchildren. I just thought I'd have more time. Wished for it, I guess." Shaking my head, I ramble on. "Stupid of me. I never deserved you. So, I sure as hell didn't deserve to keep you."

I know I should get up. Put my stuff away and take care of myself. Stop talking to ghosts and memories. I feel wasted. Used up. Like the small trip from the bedroom to the porch and my subsequent speech to no one exhausted every reservoir of strength I have.

"Gosh, I miss you Alex. I wish I..."

I hear a car approaching. I pull my knees back to my chest, claws growing in brief terror. A second passes and I recognize the sound of the Lincoln's engine. Sheathing my claws, I stow away the iPod and use the shirt to clear my face of tears. I stand, hanging the shirt over the railing and making an attempt at a welcoming smile as headlights illuminate the front yard. The muscles in my face begin to ache before Tommy is even out of the car. Regardless, I try to look calm and sane. Something to make him proud. I try to look...better.

Better. Heh.


https://youtu.be/GVP5gJBmRtA