Dylan

“Books are precious things, but more than that, they are the strong backbone of civilization. They are the thread upon which it all hangs, and they can save us when all else is lost.” – Louis L'amour

I hugged the book to my chest, my knees buckling under me as I fell to the floor.

Dylan is gone. He's really gone. The realization shreded my heart into so many pieces, leaving me bleeding on the floor in the most inhuman pain someone could ever experience. My chest was so tight I could hardly draw breath as the tears kept choking me from the inside out.

I was dead, but Dylan was gone.

The gray clouds fogging my brain ever since that day on the cliff scattered in the wind. I made a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, my mind filled with all the things I denied, all the things I couldn't handle, all the things I can't handle. There was only one thought in my head, nothing else even mattered anymore.

He's gone.

I stopped breathing…

He's gone.

Black spots, forming in my vision…

He's gone.

I'm falling…

He's gone.

I'm clinging desperately to the book, can't let go, can't let it fall, not like…

Dylan.

He's gone.

Darkness.

Note: To put some perspective over what is happening here... this is a short piece from a story I'm working on. It's a fantasy story about a girl who dies and goes to the "in between", where she - along with the others stuck there - must prove themselves worthy of heaven... or hell.