"I loved you." Said Annie, tears streaming down her ghostly face, "I know you killed those people but I couldn't ever forget how much I loved you."
She was in Mitchell's room three weeks after the tragic incident that had taken his life (or, shall we say, undeath?). Annie held a left behind green fingerless glove to her nose and pretended to take in the scent she had never been able to smell. She closed he eyes and let the memories show their faces once again as they crept back into the forefront of her mind.
It felt so surreal to Annie that Mitchell was no longer there. She remembered feeling as if a piece of her had been shattered when she found out about Mitchell's direct and undeniable involvement in the Box Tunnel 20 massacre but now Annie felt as if her entire being had been split in two.
There was nothing she could do. She felt helpless and the rest of her house noticed. The tea, once such an annoyance to George, had stopped flowing from the pot and, now, even Nina longed to hear a high-pitched whistle coming from within the kitchen of the old bed-and-breakfast.
But, Annie could not bring herself to go back to doing those everyday activities that had once been so important to her and the hold, no matter how weak, she still had on this realm of mortals and her own humanity. A humanity that was now beginning to become even harder for her to hold onto. And Annie could feel that she was slipping, and it was almost more terrifying than the possibility of going to Hell.
It was then that the most horrifying thought struck her and Annie wondered reluctantly if Mitchell, her John Mitchell, was in Hell. He certainly had blood on his hands, there was no way she could deny that. He had killed and he had hurt and he had abandoned so many throughout his life that the thought of him having been eternally damned did not surprise Annie as much as she would have wanted it to.
But, oh! How she had loved him! How she still loved him. And, just as she had promised to follow him through his earth-bound imprisonment, so she knew she would follow him into the angry fires of perdition. She would eat of the fruit of Hades and never leave his side. She would gladly accept the pandemonium if it came coupled with him. She would set every road on which she travelled to take her closer towards Abaddon if that meant she and him could have their infinity.
But, that was all for not. For she was doomed to spend eternity trodding the corporeal realm in which she did not belong and yet was forever meant to stay. She would spend her death invisible to all but those who would promise her forever and then leave her soon enough. Whether through combat or glimmering doors. Whether by stake or simply old age. They would all leave her. They would always leave her. And she would never be able to follow them.
"I loved you too Annie, now, come find me." Said a voice from beside her, but, when she turned to see who had spoken she saw that nobody was there. If she were to look back on that exact moment she would agree that the voice, sure as Hell never is, was Mitchell's.
