“You don’t think that love ends?” I ask curiously.
She shakes her head. “Of course not. It’s forever, Dare.”
I smile a little, because that makes me happy, and then her hand is trailing down my arm, and I know what she wants.
I flip her over, and my weight presses her into the cushions, and she nips at my neck, her lips soft and warm.
“I want you, Dare,” she whispers. “I want you. You’re mine. Always.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I am.”
I’m just sliding into her, her warmth engulfing me, when I look up and a giant wave is crashing down on us. We don’t have time to react.
We’re hit, and we’re forced apart, and Calla is swept away from me.
“Dare,” she calls, and her hand is outstretched, and I can’t reach her. “Dare!”
I awake with a start, covered in sweat, my breathing quick and raspy.
That didn’t happen.
She didn’t drown.
We didn’t capsize. The rest was real.
The end was not.
It wasn’t real, I assure myself. It wasn’t real.
But that awful empty feeling stays with me and I can’t shake it. The cold empty feeling I get when Calla is not with me.
I try to reason with myself, I try to use logic, but I finally give up. I’ve got to go check. History has taught me that.
I creep down the hall, hiding from the nurses on the way, and finally, finally, come to her door.
I peer in the crack, and startle.
Her bed is empty.
It’s rumpled and empty.
My breathing quickens and my heart pounds.
She’s gone.
Seven
I throw the door open, and burst in, and the room is empty.
Moonlight shines on the bedcovers, illuminating them silver, and she’s not here.
I sit on the edge, my knees weak.
This can’t be happening again.
Not so soon.
I stare at the pillow, at the indention her head had made, and I reach out and touch it. She was here recently.