Dead Lover

She woke up at the same time every night, after the exact same dream. She sighed and looked over at the alarm clock on her night stand. 2:03 AM. It was at this same time three years ago that she knew it happened. It was a sudden emptiness in her heart that startled her awake that night. It was then the she knew he was dead, even hours before the hospital called to tell her that her lover was gone. She laid her head gently back down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

She remembered that she didn’t cry. She walked through the whole thing in a daze. At his funeral she walked over quietly and set a red rose on his coffin. She stayed at the grave sight hours after everyone else had left. Long after he was in the ground and covered over. She could still hear him whispering to her, quietly begging her to save him, to bring him back. She shuddered as she once again heard him scream for her to retrieve him from his resting place. The days seemed to float by then. She didn’t go to work, and she didn’t talk to anybody. She stayed in bed all day and night, only getting up to use the restroom. But even that was beginning to nag at her. As the days passed his voice got louder. He seemed to be constantly taunting her. He drove her to the brink. She couldn’t take it anymore. She knew what she had to do, and she knew exactly how she was going to do it. She was going to answer his please.

The night air was cold but warm. She could feel her heart pounding in anticipation. He wasn’t truly gone. That is why she figured she hadn’t cried. She knew he was still there. The closer she got, the more she could feel him. She had to bring him home. He belonged by her side forever and always. She could feel him scream his approval. She figured it would take her a while to pull his body from the cold earth, which is why she started early. She had waited until everyone was gone and then snuck through the cemetery gate. She had to do this. When she reached him, she took off her jacket and jammed the shovel into the earth. It seemed the closer she got to him, the louder he became. She gently whispered for him to be patient, that she was coming.

“It won’t belong now my love,” she said quietly. It seemed like she was digging forever, when she finally reached his casket. She threw the shovel to the side and began to pry at the lid. The wood had slightly begun to rot, which made it easier to remove. When it finally came off she felt a tear slip down her cheek. His skin was still as perfect as the last day she saw him. She reached out her hand and gently cupped his cheek. It was so smooth. She frowned at how cold it was.

“I am here now, don’t worry,” she whispered. She reached down and grabbed his arm attempting to pull him up. It was then she could smell rotting flesh. She turned to his face and dropped his arm in horror. Where she had once seen an absolutely perfect face was now a skull with the skin peeling off. That is when it hit her. He was gone. He had died that night, never to come back again. She collapsed onto the foot of his coffin when she realized what she had done. She had dug up her dead lover. She stared at his rotting face in disbelief before a blood curdling scream crawled up her throat and escaped her mouth. She felt her sobs roll over her in waves. She wasn’t sure how long she cried, or how long she sat there staring at his rotting body. She only remembered when one of the ground keepers came.

That is how she ended up where she was now. In a white padded room chained to a bed. In the morning the nurse would come by and then take her to the open room with all the other patients. That was the cost of loosing her lover she assumed. She now knew he was gone, but he still tried to convince her otherwise. He did every night when he crawled from his grave into her dreams. And when he finally reaches her, she wakes up.