It was midnight. Bitter cold gnawed at my fingertips and bit at my heart. It felt like icy fingers were tugging at my chest and sucking out the blood where the bullet was embedded there. Once again thoughts of her gridlocked my mind and, just like always, sent me into a spiral of excruciating misery and sorrow. The unfathomable knowledge was that she, my only love, had chosen someone else. Even though I was bound to another infinity in this house, at least I still had my memories of her, nonetheless she shattered my lifeless heart into a million pieces. But it was okay because it was Daisy.
I had never seen a ghost. But like they say, there is a first time for everything. Now I was one. The floorboards no longer creaked under my footsteps, my reflection no longer glinted on the chandelier. Death lurked in every doorway and shuddered under every breath I took. I had dreams, visions of that night when the car hit that poor woman with the fiery hair. We didn't even stop the car to see the body. It lay in the middle of the road, lifeless and fatally still. The people who gathered speculated where hair stopped and blood began. I wondered where her ghost was now, not that it mattered. I never did like to associate with those people, even if they did attend my glorious parties. I missed the distant hum of chatter from the lobby and the constant chink of glass and buzz of brass and piano and cymbal. But now all I heard was the flick and pang of metal and the thrum of piano strings as a bitter breeze echoed through the desolate house. It wasn't my house, it never had been. It was everyone else's house. It was her house, though she never wanted it. My whole life I had spent making myself into something I wasn't and meeting the love of my life, having her ripped from my fingertips only to have her cast me off once again. But it was okay because it was Daisy.
My only regret was Nick. The man who was a mystery to me from the very beginning. He was always there, not always speaking but there. He believed in me. That feeling of trust was something I had only ever felt once before in my life. Mr. Dan Cody; the man who taught me everything he knew. Nick didn't have to attend the funeral but he did. He didn't have to keep my secrets but he did. I think Nick moved back West after my death, which was probably the best thing. I wished I had been more honest with him and told him the truth about many things. My only excuse was that I had never really opened up to anyone before, I put up barriers for fear of crumbling to the ground. I never should have pushed him away, but it was too late and no one ever came back. The house was abandoned to all, except a strange man with owl-eyed glasses. The first time he came, he stopped to stare at the books along the numerous shelves. With an exception to the withdrawal of communication, the most infuriating part of being dead was not being able to know what people were thinking, and this man most of all. I never did ask his name, though he attended every one of my parties without fail. But he didn't dance or converse like everyone else did; he explored, he went deeper into the house but I was never worried about being caught out. However, now, when he stood and shifted his neck and averted his eyes. I felt as if he knew.
I didn't think loss was the worst thing- it was dread. The dread was the most painful; the constant knowledge and reminder that I was condemned to perpetual grief and endless heartache, and that I'd never see her again for I knew she'd never return to West Egg.
But never was okay because it was Daisy.