Till Death Us Do Part

Not even death could tear them apart

Words 1117
The young woman threw back the bed covers and unsteadily made her way to the bathroom where she kept the sleeping pills her doctor prescribed. Just until you get back on your feet, Maggie.

Filling a glass of water from the bathroom sink, she shook another two of the red and black capsules into her palm and swallowed them. As she turned away from the mirrored cabinet, out of the corner of her eye, just for a split second, she saw him.

‘Damian?’

This wasn’t the first time Maggie imagined she saw her dead husband. Sometimes she’d caught a glimpse in her rear-view mirror on the drive to work. Other times she’d feel the cushions on the sofa sink a little, felt him sitting next to her as she watched the sad movies, she tormented herself with. She could even smell him, his earthy masculinity and favourite after shave, when she wrestled with the blankets on those seemingly endless, sleepless nights.

The accident which took him from her, only two months ago, yet also a lifetime, had been violent. A head-on collision. He’d stood no chance against the speeding, young drunken driver in the stolen car, who’d unfairly escaped serious injury. She couldn’t bear to think of her darling husband, still so young, suffering. She prayed he’d felt no pain, yet she knew she was fooling herself. His mangled body and face had told the story. She wondered if he’d thought of her as the headlights bore down on him. She was driving herself crazy with the thoughts.

The first few times she imagined she’d seen her dead husband, gave her comfort. Knowing it was because she wanted so much for him to be alive, to be there in their home together as it should be.
One night in the small hours, praying for sleep, she heard it. She wasn’t dreaming. Holding her breath, she lay in their bed and listened. Maggie. Come and be with me. The voice had been barely a whisper, yet she’d known it was real.

As autumn faded into winter the whispers and glimpses of Damian increased in frequency. Her husband’s continued presence eased her grief and as time went on instead of his memory fading it strengthened. He felt closer, more able to make her aware of him, hear him.

One night, in their big bed, the one they chose together only two short years ago, she knew for certain he was there with her. She’d felt his fingers gently lift a strand of her long blonde hair away from her ear, as his lips hovered close, she’d been acutely aware of the warm breath and his words.

Maggie, it’s time. I can’t bear be here alone. Come to me.

The following morning, after yet another sleepless night, Maggie couldn’t stop thinking of Adrian’s nocturnal visit. She knew in her heart it couldn’t have been real. I must be going crazy. He’s dead. I need help. Where that help would come from, she wasn’t sure, but knew she couldn’t go on trying to make sense of anything, alone.

Unable to reveal what she’d been experiencing to anyone close to her, she’d kept it from her family and friends but spoken to her doctor.

‘Am I going crazy, doctor?’

‘No, you’re not. it’s grief. It does strange things to the mind. What would make you feel better?’

‘If I knew he was really dead!’ Maggie sobbed. ‘Is he truly dead?’

‘Yes, Maggie,’ The doctor said firmly. ‘He’s gone.’

‘But what if he is trapped somewhere and he’s terrified?’ Her hands flew to her mouth at the thought.

‘My dear, you need to get a grip. Have you been keeping your appointments with the counsellor?’

‘She’s useless. I need someone who can contact Adrian. I need to make sure he’s alright.’

‘Listen Maggie…’

‘Thanks Doc. I know what I’m going to do.’ She stood up and decisively left the doctor’s office.

Finding someone who could help proved easier than Maggie had thought it would be. It seemed there were many people in her circle of acquaintances who knew, or had heard of, someone who gave ‘amazing, accurate readings’ or professed to be a Clairvoyant and could converse with those on ‘the other side.’
Eventually, after many weeks of researching, she employed a young woman who’d described herself as a Spiritualist. All the preconceived ideas the grieving widow may have had about someone who could speak to the dead were immediately dispelled when she’d come to Maggie’s home.

‘Hello, my name’s Selene,’ she said, holding out her hand in greeting as if this was simply a business meeting.

There was nothing to suggest Selene was anything but a normal young woman in her thirties, running a perfectly normal business. She wore black pants and a white shirt, her hair tied back into an efficient bun.

‘Hello, Selene. Please come in.’ Maggie attempted to hide her surprise.

‘I’m not what you expected?’ Selene smiled. ‘It’s okay, I get that all the time. There’s nothing strange about what I do. I’ve always had this “gift,” she made little air quotes with her fingers.

Selene spent hours in the house, moving from room to room, but paid special attention to the bedroom, where it seemed Damian’s spirit was strongest. She’d asked Maggie a few questions, but from an onlooker’s point of view, one would have thought she was conversing with an invisible entity.

Later, over a cup of tea, she explained what she’d discovered. ‘Adrian is trapped in the Veil, a place in between the living and the dead, unable to move on. He is trying to bring you across, to make you part of his world forever.’

Maggie shook her head in disbelief. ‘What? But how?’ she spluttered.

‘Be careful, Maggie. You must resist.’

‘So, if I resist…he’ll move on?’

Selene frowned. ‘Not always. But if he refuses to leave without you, he’ll become neither the living nor the dead. Trapped in the Veil forever.’

‘And if I go to him?’

‘Please don’t even consider that. A love that defies death is a curse. You must resist, tell him he must leave, find peace.’

Despite Maggie swearing to resist, night after night Adrian’s pleas strengthened as her resolve weakened. She felt her pulse slow, her breath becoming shallower as his voice entreated her to join him. Come to me my love. Give yourself to me. We can be together forever. Find a way I beg you. I need you with me.

Maggie began to suffer extreme fatigue; her body weakened under the immense pressure of the last six months. Her will began to crumble.

The warm fragrant water embraced her weary body, and a deep contented sigh came from her pale lips. She felt no pain as the blade sliced her wrist. Her eyes closed and she waited to be reunited with her one true love.