Watch Over You

by Sabre, Mason

  He took a step forward. “It has to be this way,” he said quietly.

  “I could have stopped it this time,” she cried out.

  “There’s no way to stop it.”

  She kept backing up until her legs hit the metal barrier over which she had climbed to get to Eric. She stopped there, tearful eyes on Devan as he slowly approached her. There was no purpose to anything anymore. Without Eric, she was lost and alone, her life meaningless. All she could hope for was a quick death that would come soon to take away her pain. She sometimes thought about doing it herself, and even though she didn’t believe in god, she worried what would happen if she were wrong and her suicide put her soul somewhere else.

  Devan took hold of her hand and she had no choice but to follow him as he climbed over onto the other side of the motorway. He led her back to where she had picked herself up. “You never questioned why you were so far away from the car?” he asked softly.

  On the ground in front of them lay another body in a heap - crumpled and broken, and as lifeless as Eric’s. Blood had stolen most of the colour from her long auburn hair. A wedding band glinted from where it sat on the woman’s finger. “No,” she choked out. “No. No.”

  She shook her head slowly, unwilling to believe what was in front of her. Yanking her hand out of Devan’s, she turned and ran back to the car, back to Eric. She vaguely registered that both his hand and hers were bleeding again.

  “No.” She ignored what was behind her. She ignored the shattered windscreen of her car, where something or someone had clearly gone through it. She even ignored the fact that she knew she hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt. She ignored everything until she saw Eric in the passenger seat again. Only it wasn’t Eric in the car - it was Devan.

  “I’m sorry,” a voice said from behind her. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.”

  She knew the voice. It reached inside her and wrapped its fingers around her heart. She didn’t dare to turn around, sure that her mind was playing another cruel trick on her. A hand tenderly reached for her own from behind her. Long, warm fingers grasped for hers and tried to gently pull her around. She shook her head. “I can't. I can't see you and then you have to leave again.” Her fingers slipped from his and she dropped to her knees. She slumped forward and started to rock back and forth, shaking her head as the tears fell in a steady stream.

  Warm, familiar hands rested on her shoulders, making her entire body tremble uncontrollably. A finger under her chin tilted her head back up until she was looking into the eyes of someone she knew couldn’t be real. “I’m sorry,” Eric said to her. He was just the same. Nothing had changed. Same clothes. Same hair. Same face. Except, all his injuries had gone and he wasn’t dead.

  “I don’t understand.” She dared to lift her hand to his face but hesitated before she touched him. What if he vanished? What if her hand fell through nothing? He grabbed her hand, though, and pressed it against his face. He was real. He was solid. He was Eric

  With a shuddering sob, she crawled into his arms and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She wasn’t ever going to let him go again. Great, big sobs shook her body. Eric held her tightly, his face in her neck as she clutched at his shirt. She dug her fingers into his back, trying to bring him closer to her. “I’m afraid if I let go, you won’t be real.”

  “I am real,” he whispered.

  “How?”

  “You know how,” he said. “How did you get out of the car?”

  “I didn’t die?” She was so confused. This was all too much. Yet she knew what she had seen. She knew who lay broken and crumpled on the road. She had killed them all. Eric, their unborn baby - and herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

  He loosened his grip from around her and held out his hand. “Take my hand?” The swallow in his palm breathed with life. “I came back for you, Tara. To lead you home. To walk by your side until you were safe. Come with me. Take my hand and kiss me.”

  The shadows moved closer. The girl behind Eric smiled and nodded. For the first time in three years, Tara felt a sense of peace inside. Eric had come back for her. He was really here. He had never truly left her. She was the one who had been lost. Her heart lifted and she thought she would burst from joy. With a smile, she lifted her lips to his and embraced eternity.

  She kissed him.

  Epilogue

  Eric watched Tara. She loved the seat by the window the most – the one in her favourite coffee shop. He knew that making her change her routine and go to a different café would be upsetting for her. It was the only way, though - the only way she would truly understand that she was no longer alive.

  Tara had died three years ago; she just didn’t know it. She hadn’t been able to let herself move on, or even see that she needed to. She was lost in a world inside her head, one where she was still alive, living a tormented existence filled with guilt and remorse. She only saw what she wanted to see. Nothing around her was real, simply figments of her imagination - the coffee shop, people around her, her home, everything.

  It was up to Eric to save her, to show her the truth before she was lost forever, her soul condemned to that of an endless limbo. The shadows lurked, waiting for any chance they could get to take her. Eric knew that in bringing her into his own fabricated world, he opened the door for them to get closer to her. She was more within their grasp now, but there was no other way. With each passing day, Tara sunk deeper and deeper into her own mind, and there would be no return from there if the shadows got her. Eric had made a deal with them, and he was going to keep it. He had until the anniversary of her death. If he couldn’t make her see by then, then she’d be lost to him forever.

  The shadow walkers were getting closer each time. They were hungry and impatient. They wanted her so that they might clean up. They did not permit wandering souls, and it had already been three years for Tara. This was his last chance; and the only way Eric figured he would get through to her. If she was in his world, where he could control the illusions around them, then maybe he could lead her to understand the truth about herself. He had tried to cross into her world, but she never paid him any attention. And it had to be her who approached him; it couldn’t be him. Anything coerced could shock her mind and then again she would be lost forever. The clock was ticking. Time was running out.

  When she had finally gone to the new coffee shop - his coffee shop in his version of the world - he had sagged in relief. It was a difficult task to try to replicate real things in the world of limbo. People tended to see only what they needed to see. Maybe it was their connection that enabled it - he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he was thankful.

  He knew that her usual coffee shop gave the illusion that it wasn’t in the city centre. One window overlooked the busy high street, and the other, where Tara always chose to sit, gave a view to the park. He smiled at the memory of how she liked to fool herself that they were out in the country, where it was peaceful and quiet and life slowed down to a nice, easy pace.

  His mind wandered to their drives on Saturday mornings. They’d sit in the coffee shop, which doubled as a bookshop, eat breakfast and chat about anything and everything. It was their time together, away from work and the endless renovations on their house. Not that Eric cared where it was. To him, it was time with Tara - his Tara - and if she was happy, that was enough for him. Her happiness was everything to him. She was everything to him. There were few people in the world that were lucky enough to find their soulmates. Tara was his, and there was no way his soul could pass over to the other side without her. She was his life, even in death.

  She didn’t notice him on the other side of the glass. She was sitting alone, hands wrapped around her coffee mug. She held it there a while before lifting it to her lips. He couldn’t believe that she was there. Just in front of him. It felt like a dream. He didn’t want to move in case he lost sight of her and she vanished.

  The darkness around him was moving ever clo
ser, shadow walkers ready to swoop in and take her away. They were waiting, devourers of the past, ready to snatch up the souls stuck between worlds. Souls like Tara. This was her last chance to understand. This was his last chance to reach her.

  It took him a while before he could enter the coffee shop. He reached for the handle and saw the shadows lurking behind him. He hesitated, heart beating wildly. What if they rushed in as soon as he opened the door? He held his breath, pushed the door and entered. The shadows remained outside. He let out a relieved breath and sent up a silent thank you. The coffee shop was almost perfect. He’d frequented it so much when he was alive that he could pretty much manifest a perfect rendition. Every little detail was seared into his memory - even down to Sasha, the girl behind the counter, serving.

  When he was alive, he had used this café as a base for operations when helping the homeless. He’d buy them a coffee and help fill in their forms so that they could get into the system; into housing and claiming the right benefits to get them started. He’d started the parked coffees idea here. Prepaid coffees for the homeless. It was a project close to his own heart. He hadn’t ever told Tara about it. He hadn’t wanted her to know the Eric who had existed before she met him. The man who was homeless. The boy who had lost his sister to that world, too, and been unable to save her. He didn’t want Tara to know any of that. He had looked upon his reflection with shame in his eyes more times than he could count. He didn’t think he would have been able to bear Tara looking at him in the same way. Helping others like him and like Sam had eased his guilt a little, but it was a never-ending plight.

  Tara was there. Just there. He was mere feet from her. His mind inside screamed at him to look away but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She glanced up just then and caught his eye and, for a moment, he couldn’t help but stare back. His heart soared as, for the first time in three years, her eyes were finally on him again. He couldn’t contain the feeling of joy that threatened to overflow and overwhelm his senses.

  She didn’t recognise him. He was the opposite of what he had been in life. She would never be able to handle the emotional charge of seeing her Eric – not yet. He projected to her a man who was blonde, scruffy and homeless. It was the first image that had come to mind. He forced himself to break eye contact with her and head to the counter. As he stood there waiting for Sasha to greet him, he caught sight of himself in the mirror at the back. He tried not to stare. If he lost focus, then he would become the Eric Tara knew and that would never work.

  It was as Sasha came towards him, another manifestation of this pretend world, that he realised he didn’t have a name other than Eric, which meant that was the name she would say. Desperately, he searched his thoughts for something else, but his mind was crowded and filled with Tara. She was behind him. She was reachable. And she was distracting him. He flipped through memories and words, like pages of a photo album, but his mind kept coming back to Tara. He hadn’t been able to believe his good fortune the day she had walked into his life. Devon, he thought, That’s where they had met and where his life had really begun. No sooner had the word flipped through his tired mind than he heard Sasha’s cheerful voice. “Hey, Devan,” she said brightly with a grin as big as he remembered.

  Taken aback, it took him a moment to return her warm greeting. Giving himself a mental shake, he ordered his drink with an unsteady voice. His stupid heart wouldn’t stop thundering in his chest. She was right behind him. That was all he could think about. He had not got as close as this to her before. In all his previous attempts, she had wandered off without a second glance at him, and the shadows had dragged his failed ass back to his locked cell to wait for her. He had refused to cross over without Tara, and the shadows couldn’t force him to. So, all they could do was hold him in a cell until he eventually decided it was time to go. It was forbidden to go back and get Tara, but after three years of him refusing to budge, they had made a pact. He had been given until her anniversary to try and save her otherwise he would have to cross over without her. It had been the only way they’d let him come back for her.

  He had no idea what to say to her, though. Hey Tara, you remember that car accident? Well, you died too. It just didn’t seem to cut it.

  He found himself stalling at the bookshelf his mind had projected there. The titles were all unreadable, of course. Pages were nothing more than smudged marks, but he pretended to read the titles, then picked one and stuffed it under his arm. When he did have the nerve to turn around, he found that there were no other seats available. His mind had managed to fill them all except for the one close to Tara. He cursed himself because there was no way to undo it now. There were two seats at the table; one that would face her and one that would place him with his back to her. The latter was the better choice for now, but his heart was yelling at him. It wanted to see her. It needed to. It had been much too long and inside he was crying for just a simple touch. A word. Something that connected them.

  He sat down in the one facing her, but he picked up his book and pretended to read. Tara, however, was making it difficult for him to keep it up. He could feel her eyes boring into him, and he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his eyes from his book. “Is everything okay?” He silently cursed himself the moment the words left his lips. He wasn’t ready yet and neither was she.

  She jumped when he spoke, tripping over her words. He remembered her doing that when they first met and every other time after when she would get too nervous. He loved it when she stuttered. It gave out a kind of naivety that was more innocent than childish, and it always made him want to protect her from the world outside. “I…er…” She took a breath to calm herself, but Eric could feel her pulse as it sped up. In his mind, he calmed both of their hearts down even though his own was ready to burst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I was just…” She struggled for the words. “What does it mean about coffee on park?”

  Eric smiled at her question, thinking how much he adored her. That was all she was going to ask him? He fought not to break into a full-fledged grin and ended up looking like he was grimacing more than anything else. “It’s what people pay for. For people like me.”

  “Like you?”

  “On cold days like today, it isn’t easy to get a warm drink. People pay to park them for the homeless, or even the poor. They come here for a hot drink. Sometimes, something to eat.” Eric was proud he had helped set it up. When he was searching the streets for his sister, he had come across so many people who had gone for days with nothing warm inside them. These were people. Brothers, sisters, sons and daughters.

  “You’re homeless?”

  The question caught him off guard, and he didn’t know what to say to her. It was too close to the truth. Too close to all he had tried to hide from her for years. Panic rose inside him and he knew that, at any moment, the mirage he had created for her was going to dissolve. He would be the face of her husband and she would run. Why had he chosen to appear homeless?

  He put his head back down to the book to try to compose himself. He pushed his thoughts aside and tried to clear his mind, mentally brushing himself down. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement outside. Shadows. Three of them. They weren’t very clear, but they were watching him and Tara. He filled his mind with thoughts of coffee and books. He mentally recited lines from movies he had seen over and over. He didn’t want to give the shadows strength by thinking about them. In return, he felt the scar across his chest swell and heat up. Pain seared through him. He tensed himself; bit down to keep from whimpering. They were reminding him of what he needed to do. The scar was from the accident. One of many.

  Tara got up, stuffed her book which she had not managed to read much of herself into her bag and then pulled on her coat. He thought about locking the door so that she couldn’t leave. He thought about opening his mouth and talking as the pain on his chest subsided. In the end, he settled on Sasha and mentally sent her into Tara’s path to pique her interest. Already he had her curiosity
with the parked coffees; now he just needed to give her something else. It was probably time she knew some things he had been too afraid to say.

  Her back was to him. He stood and made a dash in the direction of the men’s room before she saw him. He was a coward.

  As he listened to Tara and Sasha talking, he couldn’t stop the beating of his own damn heart. She was so damn close. He could feel her, and he had no doubt she could feel him too. She was exactly the same as he remembered her. She had no idea who he was and it tore him apart inside just thinking about it.

  “It keeps him busy,” Sasha was saying to Tara. “He comes here, sits with forms and books and god knows what else. Every street kid he finds, he gets them into a home or somewhere safe; even if it’s just one night. When he is offered something himself, he asks how he can have warmth when children are outside? He gives his spot away every time. He used to work with this guy; I guess that’s how it got started. The guy helped him look for his sister and together they helped others.”

  “What happened to the guy?” he heard Tara say.

  Eric mimed the words for Sasha to say. “He died, not long after I started here. Car accident.”

  He noticed how Tara’s shoulders tensed at that, and he desperately wanted to go to her and pull her into his arms. He wanted her to stop hurting. He wanted her to stop torturing herself with guilt and self-hate.

  As she left the coffee shop, he was so tempted to run after her and tell her who he was. She could help fix everything. The sadness for her husband radiated from her. It followed her around like some dark shadow with its claws deeply embedded into her shoulders. He had the answers that she needed, and maybe they would ease her pain a little. Maybe they would ease his too.

  He hadn’t really seen Tara since the funeral. Not like this – up close and personal. On that day, he had stayed in the back and just watched. She hadn’t known he was there. Just like now. He could see her through the window as she stood outside and cast her face up to the rain. He strode across the coffee shop, which was empty now; the projection no longer needed. Her absence made it dark, just as her emotions made it rain. He walked right up to the glass in a trance with only her in his sights. Nothing else existed. His hand touched the cold glass and his eyes remained fixed on Tara; he mentally begged her to turn her around. She didn’t, though. She didn’t turn nor did she look back. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her hair, put her head down and then walked away. He let her.