Beyond

"Have you been here all night?"

I rubbed my head, which started to throb, and looked at Devon. He was leaning against the kitchen counter and staring at me. He looked worried. Probably because I really looked awful. I smiled softly at him.

"I guess I have," I said, pushing the mug of now cold tea out of my sight. "What time is it?"

"Six." He sat down across from me. "What were you doing?"

Talking to my dead boyfriend. "Thinking about Daniel."

There. Partial truth never hurt.

Devon's fingers grasped mine. "I know this is hard, and I know I'm probably not the best person to talk to about these things, but I do think you need to talk to someone?"

I'm not crazy. "I'm okay."

"This isn't healthy. You've barely left your house since—"

"You can say his name," I told him, my fingers going to the long scar.

"I can't," he answered, eyes narrowed. "If I say it, it makes everything very real."

Blinking, I shook my head, and pressed my palms into the table. "What John did to me was real. He murdered my friend and he's going to come after me. Daniel wants me to be ready when he does." Shit. "I don't know why I said that."

"Eden." Devon's voice took on an authoritative tone. "What are you talking about?"

I shrank back in the seat. I wanted to disappear. Oh God, I needed to fix this, so the only other live person who knew about John didn't think I was nuts and recommend putting me in a psychiatric ward. Though, perhaps I'd be safer there.

"Nothing," I said, pushing away from the table about standing. "I have to get ready."

But Devon blocked my path. "How long has it been since you've been seeing Daniel?"

"Last night was the first time." My voice was quiet, my vision blurring as I started to cry. "I miss him."

"I know." He pulled me close. "I just wish you would have told me. It's normal to see someone you lost, especially under those circumstances. You have a lot going on." He kissed my forehead. "I'll make you something to eat and we can talk about this more, if you want."

I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, with my boyfriend cooking breakfast, when I realized my worst fear.

"I'm afraid I'm going to die," I whispered.