Page 11 of The Book of Legends
My chest splits apart. It feels like I’m wading in dark water.
No. No. No.
The words slam into me like a physical blow. “Gone?” I whisper.
I glance around the porch, waiting for her to appear. To come outside. To laugh, like this is some cruel joke.
“Yes.” His gaze drops, and he blinks rapidly. “She’s gone, Selene.”
My knees buckle. A sharp ringing fills my ears. I shake my head, but the noise only grows louder. The world around me tunnels in and out of focus.
He grabs me to keep me from falling. “I’m sorry,” he says, but his voice is muffled.
I barely see him because I’m shoving past him and running into the house.
“Aunt Nan?” My voice echoes.
The house is too quiet. I check the living room, kitchen, and bathroom.
Nothing.
I reach her bedroom. Her bed is stripped bare. The book and mirror are gone.
The furniture is empty. Like she never lived here at all.
Like I made her up.
And then it hits me—a wave so brutal it drowns me.
I stagger. My vision fogs—not from my eyesight, but from the tears blurring behind my glasses. I can’t breathe. A warm hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me.
I take a deep breath.
“When?” I rasp.
“Two days ago,” Officer Henley says. “She called 911 through her monitor, but…” He exhales. “She didn’t want you to worry.” I feel numb. “She left instructions,” he continues. “Her mirror and book will be at your dorm in the morning. She requested to becremated. I was listed as next of kin to be notified to take care of her last wishes. She didn’t want you to worry.”
I sniff. “Can I see her?”
He hesitates. “I’m afraid she left strict instructions.”
“What kind of instructions?”
He hands me a card. An estate attorney. “She left funds for your tuition, room, and board,” he explains. “Her will included a book and a mirror, which will be delivered to your dorm.”
I take the card like it’s a death certificate. Why didn’t she call me? Why did I have to find out like this? But I know the answer.
She didn’t want me to see her go. She wanted me to remember her alive.
I barely hear him as he tells me how they met and how they became fast friends because none of it matters. I was too late.
Her memory pricks at my skin like a thousand tiny needles. Our laughter. Our conversations. The smell of her favorite tea. All gone.
I will never hear her voice again.
I stare at the empty room one last time, hands trembling, lip quivering.
And just like I knew it would, the world keeps turning without her.
