Always be here

His breath was ragged and smelt of alcohol. Not much, not even enough to give him a buzz. It was certain that he'd drink more later, but at that moment all he wanted to do was sit in the cemetary. He was sitting before her grave. She, the woman that had changed his life the moment she stepped into it. The woman that he loved, that had loved him.

His life had turned into an endless cycle of drinking and depression ever since she had been declared dead. They hadn't even found her body. He had looked for another month on after that, but nothing. Her funeral was the worst day of his life. He stood alone besides an empty closed coffin as people shuffled by and offered meaningless words of condolence. The newspapers had stated she was only survived by him; how could that be when he felt dead?

He closed his eyes, making it so he couldn't see the angelic name engraved on the tombstone.

"Chris."

His eyes snapped open. She was standing before him in the very same clothes that she died in. "Jill..." He looked at her with longing but didn't move.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice a mere shadow of what it used to be.

"Because of you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not here." Both remained silent after the confession. "At least, my body isn't."

With slow, fluid movements, she stepped towards him, kneeling when she reached him. Her hands touched the sides of his face, but felt more like small bursts of wind circling. "Why?" he whispered. It was a broken question, one he often asked himself at night. "Why do this?"

"You need me." It wasn't a question. If it were, it would've been rhetorical. She knew very well that he needed her. His eyes focused on her face. He wanted to reach out and touch her, as she was him, but felt as though she'd disappear if he did. "I'll be with you as long as you need me."

His voice lost any strength as he spoke again. "I'll always need you."

"Then I'll always be with you." His eyes never left her face, but her features seemed to flicker as he stared at her. She was translucent, very nearly non-exsistent. She removed her hands from his face and stood. "You need to go home."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"You won't be there."

"I told you. I'll always be with you as long as you need me." She held out her hand. "You need to go home." He took her hand and stood. She led him back through the headstones, bringing him to his truck.

"Jill..." he whispered as she opened the door to the driver's seat.

"You need to stop drinking," she murmured, staring him in the eyes. She then ushered him into the vehicle.

"Jill... I need you."

"I'm always here with you."

But the next moment, her image was gone. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at her grave once more.