I'LL WATCH OVER YOU
CHAPTER 1: THE VOICE IN THE DARK

There was only darkness here. It was all-encompassing and liquid. This was where hope died. And in this darkness, there was no sound, and time was meaningless. But somewhere within its oppressive bounds, there was a very small fragment of consciousness.

Where am I? It's so quiet here.

The small consciousness had a voice that no one could hear. It feared the dark. But it didn't know why. It didn't know much of anything. In the darkness, there was no need for memories or names. The small voice had neither.

Who am I?

Not knowing terrified it. All it knew was that it was self-aware. This darkness overwhelmed everything. It threatened to consume the small voice.

I don't like it here. I think I'm losing myself.

Suddenly there was a tugging sensation and abruptly the voice was pulled away from the darkness.

The small voice was now in a kitchen. It was daytime outside and the sunlight beamed through the bay window. The voice basked in its warmth. It was so much better here. The walls were painted white, and vintage light fixtures gave it a warm and cozy feel. It felt familiar, like coming home. The voice could tell this was the place where meals were lovingly made for eager, smiling faces. The small voice noticed a young brunette woman on the kitchen counter, her body was slumped, and her head rested against the counter. The cup of tea next to her grew cold.

A young girl ran over to her and embraced her. "Mom?" The girl was around six and her face was painfully familiar. She was wearing a cute blue sundress and her ginger hair trailed behind her playfully. Her face was adorned with freckles and eyes that resembled the pale blue hue of a frozen lake after a snowstorm. Seeing the small child made the voice ache for some reason.

My, what an adorable little girl!

"Yeah, honey?" The voice noticed that the woman didn't have any strength left in her, but she willed herself to life anyway. There were bags under her eyes and her smile was forced.

You look so sad. You both do.

"Are you OK Mommy?"

"I will be honey, I-I just need a moment." The woman tried her best not to let her forced smile falter, she gently caressed the young girl's cheeks.

The voice somehow could feel the vast emptiness inside the woman's heart, a hungry void that would eventually eat itself. The voice didn't know if it had a heart, but right now it felt like something within it was broken. Whoever this woman and her daughter were, it could feel their suffering and it was raw and suffocating.

These people are in so much pain. I wish there was something I could do.

The visage before it withered away, and the voice was pulled into the darkness once more. The voice missed the warm kitchen and the people. Whoever they were.

The voice was now in a dark room. At least it wasn't the darkness it knew too well. The voice could see the same woman from before, lying on the bed. She was still dressed in the same clothes as before. She'd been crying and her eyes were red and puffy, the corners of her eyes irritated from the abrasiveness of the tissues.

"God, why?" she whispered.

The woman's pain was visceral and the voice could still feel it. It called to the voice and drew it forward. Once again, the voice wished it could touch the woman and comfort her. But it wasn't sure it had arms. It wished it could help.

The woman on the bed was hugging a picture frame tightly to her chest.

The voice was able to lean closer and get a better look. The woman was holding a silver frame, it was a wedding picture. There were two women dressed in beautiful flowing white gowns. The other woman in the picture had her hair down, it was long, beautiful red hair that looked ablaze as the sun set just for them. She had a bright and ever so wide smile. It was the true smile of a happy bride who had just married the love of her life. There was so much joy in that picture, this had been the best day of their life. And that happiness shone through, and the voice could feel it. Something about that image felt so familiar. But there was nothing, no thread to follow. The memory had its line cut, rendering it inaccessible.

I think I get it now, you lost this person, didn't you? That's why you are in so much pain. And I can feel it, I can feel your pain. It's so heavy. I-I wish there was something I could do. If I could at least know your name.

The woman's sobs got louder, she dug her head deeper and squeezed the picture frame tighter. Its edges cut deep into her skin but physical pain was nothing to her, not anymore. Her voice was low and broken as she begged the heavens.

"Why couldn't it- why couldn't it have been me? I just- I don't know what I'm doing."

I wish I knew your name. I want to touch her, I want to hold her and caress her hair. I want to tell her that everything will be OK. I want her to know she's not alone. I don't know who you are, but I'm here. You are not alone.

The voice wanted to reach for her with its nonexistent arms but the darkness swallowed it back up.

It was brought back again from the darkness. The voice was grateful to be away from it. Every minute there felt like an eternity. The voice witnessed a funerary procession. They were about to lower the casket.

We are at a funeral now?

Every seat was taken with solemn faces draped in black. The woman from before was there holding hands with her daughter. They stood in a place of honor in the front. The woman wore large black shades to mask her pain, she didn't want anyone to see her cry. The voice didn't need to see her eyes to know, because once again it felt it. The vortex inside of her grew larger, it wouldn't be long until it consumed her. The child was bravely holding back her tears, just like her mother. Holding the child's other hand was a heavy-set blonde woman, whose solemn expression felt out of place on her usually jovial face.

There wasn't a dry eye in the house. And there were a lot of familiar faces everywhere, especially in the front row. A tall, beautiful blonde woman stood out, her hair was perfectly done-up and she wore a tasteful veil and large black shades. The voice could tell that this person was trying hard to maintain her composure but tears still escaped her. She held hands with a slender brunette sitting next to her, this one wasn't shy about her tears. She rested her head against the blonde's shoulder. Next to her was a black woman wearing a thick black leather coat, she had long beautiful locks with intricate decorations woven in. She scowled as she dried her tears with a very familiar-looking handkerchief.

I think I know all of you somehow.

The voice could feel their pain as well, and it was strong. The same vortex threatened them. Shifting its attention to the casket, the voice wondered who this person had been. It must have been someone wonderful, someone that they all loved dearly, someone that had brought such light into their lives. There was a large picture by the casket, the same redhead from the picture the brunette had been holding.

Oh, I see, it's your wife. She is who you are all mourning.

The voice wanted to touch the picture, but there was nothing to touch it with. It resigned itself to studying it. The woman in the picture, her smile really outshone the sun. Looking at the picture made the voice ache.

She's so beautiful. And you are all here for her? She's very lucky.

The voice continued to wonder who this person was that had meant so much to them. Her life had brought them all so much joy and yet there was so much pain here, so much grief. The voice wished it could cry like them, it seemed to help. How can crying help? The voice wondered.

Is pain the price they pay for love?

They started lowering the casket.

"Mommy..." the young girl whispered as she buried her face against her mother. The mother couldn't be strong anymore and knelt to hug her. Tears smeared her makeup. The tall blonde couldn't hold back anymore either and started to sob loudly. Her partner pulled her in for a hug, letting her cry into her shoulders and the voice could hear her saying, "You don't need to be strong right now Bree. It's
OK."

The black woman scoffed to herself, grief made her restless, and she knew just what to do. She sang and everyone gasped recognizing the song. Their expression shifted to sad smiles.

"I've got my ticket for the long way round

two bottles of whiskey for the way

And I sure would like some sweet company

And I'm leaving tomorrow what do you say?"

The song itself was beautiful. But this rendition was different, it was emotionally charged and everyone felt it in their chests, heavy, suffocating, haunting. And perfect. The rest of the women in the first row joined in.

"When I'm gone,

when I'm gone

you're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

As they sang the mother and daughter's sobs got louder. Their embrace tightened. The woman wanted to yell at them and tell them to stop signing. That this song hurt too much. She wanted to tell them that this song was just for her and now that she was gone, she never wanted to hear this song again in her life. But she also knew how badly they all needed this.

That song.

That song awoke something in the voice, a comfortable familiarity. Where the lines of memories had been cut began to ever so slowly reconnect. The voice remembered something, a feeling. It was an undeniable, powerful attraction that would ultimately become profound love. And the warmth of that feeling was immediately replaced by a crushing feeling of brutal and devastating loss. It suffocated the voice, and panic followed.

Can I- Can I please leave now? I want to go. Their pain hurts so much, I feel like I can't breathe. Please I don't want to see this anymore. I'll go back into the darkness, I don't care!

The casket was finally lowered completely into the ground with a soft thud as wood met the dampness of the earth. Suddenly the voice felt a paralyzing chill. It turned to look at the casket, at the picture, and at everyone around her. The coldness enveloped her.

I'm cold? Oh, God. Don't tell me. Is that- is that me in there? Am I- dead? If I'm dead… then that means?

The voice turned to look at the brunette and her child anew, there was a new feeling there, it was a wave of love and regret that washed over the voice, almost drowning it.

You are my family?

But the voice was pulled away again. But this time the voice screamed in protest, now it wanted to stay, now it wanted to see them.