Where One Goes(2)

“And say what exactly? They might think I was involved in your murder somehow.”

“Make an anonymous report.”

“What about the guy that killed you? Don’t you want them to find him?”

“They will. In time. There are other things more important.”

I start my SUV and let it rest idly for a minute, cranking the heat up to full blast. “And this is it? This is what you need to crossover?”

“My mother and father can’t move on until they know what happened to me. Once they know I’m dead, for sure, they can mourn and move on. Not knowing is destroying them, and my little sister is falling apart. I can’t leave until I know they’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” I nod and put the SUV in drive. I’m soaked to the bone, freezing, but the sooner I report this, the sooner Casey can be at peace, and I can be alone. Although, my alone time is always brief. There’s always a soul, everywhere I go, in need of closure, needing to settle some form of unfinished business.

Casey was killed by a guy she met at a bar her junior year in college. She didn’t notice he followed her when she left the bar by herself. It upsets me to rehash all the details; frankly, I wish I didn’t know them. Some things are just too hard to imagine. Her last moments in this world were the things nightmares are made of. But her family has been unable to let go, therefore she hasn’t been able to let go.

“Thank you for this, Char. I know you consider your gift to see the dead a curse, but you’ve given me peace.”

I don’t respond. I know I’m giving her peace of mind, like I have others before her, but their peace costs me my own. This ‘gift,’ as she called it, has cost me any semblance of normalcy; it’s cost me my family, my friends, and my hope. We pull into a gas station just off the highway. I grab my backpack from the backseat and pull out a notebook and pen.

There’s a body off of Highway 501 under the Ukon Bridge.

The note is short and sweet. No need to get too in-depth. I take out an envelope and write down the detective’s name in charge of her case and the address Casey recites for me. Once that’s done, the letter is sealed, and I place a stamp on it. We head into town and find the nearest post office, where I drop the letter in the box.

Casey lets out an audible sigh, filled with what I can only describe as relief. “I’ll go see them one last time, and then I can go.”

“Good luck, Casey,” I offer; I don’t know what else to say. What else could I say? Safe travels? Send a postcard?

“Thank you,” she says, softly. Then, she disappears.





I drive for hours after Casey disappears. At least it feels like hours. I have no map or plans of where I’m going, but I go anyway. My life has become one huge uncertainty.

My SUV revs at a good speed as it climbs the mountain’s roads, winding around perilous curves, driving me further into the darkness—literally and figuratively speaking. I’ve never seen night as dark as it is here in the mountains. It’s almost consuming, and oddly, it doesn’t bother me. It’s funny how the mind works sometimes. I’ve spent the last six years scared and alone. Not scared of the dead, ironically, but scared my life belonged to them, that I will never have it back. But tonight, I made a decision. Tonight, I will take my life back. I will have control. A numbness settles over me, and my mind is blank. And that’s how I know I’ve made the right decision. When my 4Runner begins to sputter, the motor working overtime around the remaining gas fumes, I steer it toward the side of the road. I have a hundred dollars to my name hidden in my glove box, but I don’t need money where I’m going. Whoever finds the SUV first can have it. Leaving the headlights on, I walk, shivering, numb to my soul with a darkness I can’t find my way out of. This isn’t a life—it’s a nightmare. A never-ending torment of death and servitude. And the pain has become too much to bear.

I don’t meander far when I find myself on a bridge where a large river runs underneath it; the water is raging, angry with all the rain. Walking to the middle, I let my hand glide along the wet railing and stare down at the water, wondering what it would be like to jump in, to let the water drag me down and take me away from this life—this nightmare.

This too shall pass, I repeat to myself over and over, but the words have lost their magic, and their hold on me. Maybe all of this time I’ve thought of those words as my lifeline when really, all they’ve been is a weight shackled to my ankle, slowly dragging me under, keeping me from finding real peace. This will never pass. I will always belong to the dead and because of that, I will never truly live.

It’s time to just let go.





Being in limbo sucks. All you do is watch your loved ones suffer and have no ability to help them. My parents seem to be okay, for the most part. My little brother, too. But it’s George I worry about. Most siblings are close, but being twins creates a bond normal siblings could never understand. We’d been best friends since day one.

And now, I’m dead.

“Yes, Ma. I’ll be home Sunday for dinner.” He pauses. “No, I’m not drunk,” George assures my mother over the phone. He isn’t lying. He’s not drunk—not yet anyway.

“No, Ma! He’s just a f*cking drug addict high on cocaine!” I shout, even though neither of them can hear me. It’s a good thing, too; if she ever heard me drop the f-bomb, she’d whip my ass.