Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
One Week Later
As I walk through the gates of Eternal Cross Cemetery, I tell myself I’m here because I miss Tori. And that is partially the truth. When I miss her, which is a helluva lot, I visit her, especially when we’re in town. But if I’m honest, my reason for coming here today isn’t completely about Tori. For the past week, that green-eyed woman has been on my mind. The way she looked at me—like, even though she was visiting someone else’s grave, her life was the one that was over—called to me. I don‘t know anything about her, but I could feel her pain. I told myself to let it go, but here I am, heading back to visit Tori, wondering if I’ll see that woman again.
I’m several yards away when I spot the woman who's been on my mind… along with two police officers. She’s facing me, so I’m able to see the tears skating down her cheeks, but I can’t hear what she’s saying until I get closer.
“Please,” she begs. “I can’t leave. Please don’t make me leave.” She drops to the headstone and holds on to it like it’s literally her lifeline as one of the officers bends to grab her arm.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you need to leave.”
“Hey!” I bark, making them all turn their attention to me. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
The officer stops reaching for her and stands. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know this woman?”
“Doesn’t matter. You have no right to touch her or make her leave.”
“Actually, we do,” the other officer says. “She’s been here for three weeks, and the manager called, requesting she leaves.”
What the fuck? She’s been here for three weeks? When I glance at her, I notice her hair isn’t just messy, it’s greasy, and her clothes are wet and dirty as if she’s been stuck outside for… as the officer said, weeks. But still…
“This is a public place. You can’t stop her from visiting.”
“During visiting hours,” the officer says. “But she’s been refusing to leave, even when the cemetery is closed. A few people have complained, and the manager has asked that we escort her out. She can come back tomorrow, during visiting hours.”
“So you’re making her leave now… during visiting hours?”
“Visiting hours end in twenty minutes. She was warned yesterday that she needs to leave, but she refused.”
“I can’t leave him,” she cries out. “Please don’t make me leave him.” She clutches the stone as liquid trails down her already tearstained cheeks.
“Ma’am, if you have nowhere to go, we can steer you in the direction of a shelter, but—”
“No, please,” she continues to beg, and for the first time in years, the strings of my heart are tugged, making me realize my black, broken organ still works. “I miss him so much,” she sobs. “I can’t go home without him. I promise to be quiet. Please.”
“You’re not allowed to sleep here,” the officer tells her. “I really am sorry, but if you don’t leave on your own, we’re going to have to detain you.”
The woman’s cries worsen, and without thinking, I step toward her, putting myself between her and the officers. “You’re not taking her anywhere.” Without giving her a chance to argue, I lift her into my arms and walk past the gentlemen as they watch me take her away.
I expect the woman to put up a fight about me carrying her, especially since I’m a damn stranger. Instead, she clings to me, sobbing that she doesn’t want to leave him—I’m assuming him refers to the person’s grave she’s apparently been sleeping at for the past few weeks, refusing to leave.
“I know,” I tell her, walking us to the front of the cemetery, “but those officers were going to arrest you, and then you wouldn’t be able to stay with him anyway. Once they’re gone, you can go back, okay?” She nods into my shoulder, her body trembling in devastation.
I flag down a cab, and once we’re in the confined space, heading to my place, I get a whiff of her body odor. It’s rough and proves what they said is true. She’s been there for weeks without showering or changing her clothes. She’s obviously left long enough to use the restroom and eat—though, she’s tiny, which has me wondering how much she’s actually eating.
She falls asleep in my arms and stays asleep as I carry her up to my apartment. I hate to wake her up, but she needs a good shower and a meal, so once we’re in my bathroom, I gently nudge her until she opens her eyes. They’re tired and sad and damn near lifeless, but unlike Tori and my mom, she’s still alive… For how long, though?
“You need a shower,” I tell her. “If you don’t want me to see you naked, you’re going to have to stand so you can do it yourself.”