Page 25 of Boo-ty Calls
Once I get to her, she doesn’t respond to my touch. She backs away from me and grabs her cell out of her pocket. I turn and look at what she was staring at and see my body across the dishwasher door.
Fuck. I think I’m dead.
There was no flashing of my life before I tripped, and there isn’t a bright light now, but my corpse is definitely chilling. It’s my fault for putting the knives in wrong place… stupid mistake. Fucking hell.
“My boyfriend, he fell, and I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
I glance at Sloane, who is finally breathing the way I was going to try to get her to.
Something in the room pulls me to the corner, and I lean against the wall in my fake quicksand and jam my hands in my pockets.
Hell, would I head downstairs or upstairs? I wonder about these things, and time passes as I watch Sloane’s shoulders shake with her sobs and she strokes my face. Again, I try to move, but I’m stuck in the corner.
I watch as medics come through the door and pull her away from my body, taking it away.
A cop walks in and places a firm hand on her elbow before leading her to the living room, and I push against the quicksand.
Hopefully this passes—the quicksand, anyway. Seems I’ve passed my expiry date. I make it to the living room and I’m able to perch on the couch arm next to her as they sit, but still can’t touch her.
The cop takes her statement and pats her hand before he leaves the room, and soon everyone is gone.
It’s her and I—well I guess I barely exist if I can’t fucking do anything. She continues to cry and curls into a ball. I know she will need to drink.
Wading my way to the kitchen, the quicksand feeling isn’t as strong and maybe I can fuck with things until I can help her more.
I try to open the fridge, but my fingers go through the handle. Thankfully, they cleaned up the mess that I left on the floor. I’d hate for my Goddess to have to deal with another thing. Focusing on the fridge handle, I hurl it open and stand wondering how the fuck I did it.
As I try to grasp a bottle of water for her, it slips through my hand, and I focus again, but it does nothing.
Anger courses through me. I can’t comfort her, and we don’t have close family or friends to deal with the grief with her.
Striking the water bottle again, it falls on the floor, and I question if I have to become an angry ghost. I suspect that’s what I am now.
A reaper or shadow daddy. Something like in Sloane’s books hasn’t dragged me out the door, and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m even doing.
“Who’s there?” Sloane walks into the kitchen, her eyes red, and she wraps her arms around herself. Stepping to the fridge, she looks around and closes the door before grabbing the water off the floor. “Fucking Archer, why would you leave me, you fucking goober?”
I want to respond, but I’m not interested in scaring her immediately. In her sad state, she’s likely to think the water was on the floor. Her meds are on the counter, and I angrily look at them, but I’ve got no superpowers, which is pretty fucking stupid.
“I’d never actually want you to leave. Why would you be such a fucking dipshit? Who the fuck trips on the dishwasher and impales their lungs?” She sighs and takes her bottle of pills before flicking off the lights and heading up the stairs.
It was idiotic. I’ve always put the knives down in the dishwasher, and I wasn’t paying attention tonight.
Fuck, I can’t believe this is our life now. I don’t know what to do from here.
Eleven
Sloane
It’s been over five months since that horrible night, and things still hurt, but I’ve swamped myself in work.
The anniversary card I found in the kitchen after the night it happened is in my top drawer. I forced myself to stop sleeping with a square piece of cardstock. Archer’s words meant everything to me, and it was a morbid memento of what we had.
After getting back Archer’s ashes, I decided to make something with some of them. He sits in my office in a black box. An urn would have been better, but I felt the black box could come in handy in the future.
Most people I’ve read online turn their loved one's ashes into jewellery or something for their house. I turned a portion of Archer into something fucking epic.
Once the postman rings the bell, I grab the packages and scurry into the house.
