I sit down beside her, my legs dangling in the open air. “We’re part angel and part human. Our job is to help the dead pass on.”
“Like the grim reaper?” Her eyebrows furrow as she pulls her sleeves with tattered edges over her hands.
“Kind of.” I rock my head side to side. “Though we’re more like spirit social workers. I’m here as someone to talk to and help with what’s standing in the way of you passing on.”
She shoves her covered hands between her knees. “So I’m still here because I have some kind of unfinished business?” Her thin lips twist into a wounded smile. “I thought the pain would stop, that it would finally be over.” She laughs with bitter sadness. “And here I am. I can’t even die right.”
“Want to talk about it?” I ask, my heart aching from the amount of self-loathing dripping from her words.
“Will it help?” Her voice is small and lost as she hunches into herself. “Will it make the pain stop?”
“It might,” I answer gently, my hands curling over my knees as I wish I could offer her a comforting touch. “Letting it all out can be cathartic. The pain might be what’s keeping you here.”
Abby tucks her limp hair behind her ears and releases a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know what was wrong with me. I didn’t always feel this way.” She wraps her arms tightly around herself. “I used to love the outdoors—hiking, camping, climbing into trees just so I could sit in the branches and listen to the silence of nature.” Her gaze traces along the thick branches of the birch tree up to the canopy of leaves. “Then the pain came. Not like a broken bone or a sprained ankle, or something you can pointat and know how to fix it. It was like a bruise that ached inside me with no answers. No explanation. No cure. Some days, if I thought about the pain, it hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. Other days, I felt nothing. I was numb to everything. I went through the motions, but I didn’t care about anything.”
I shift my left hand so it sits between us—the best I can do to offer physical closeness. “And you kept it all to yourself?”
Her face crumples as she nods. “I’ve never had close friends, and my mom and dad were fighting a lot, mostly about money. I knew if I told them, they’d do the right thing and send me to doctors and pay for therapists. Maybe they would have even put me in one of those clinics. But what if after all that, I was still broken? My existence was enough of a burden on them. I didn’t want to be what broke them.” She looks up at me with agony in her eyes, begging for understanding. “I tried really hard to be good and happy for them, or at least pretend to be, but it hurt so much, and I was so tired.” She goes back to staring at the tree, her voice distant. “When I found out that the reason money was so tight was because they wanted to hold onto the house for me, I figured out how I could help them and finally make the pain stop. If I wasn’t alive anymore, they’d be free. I was so relieved, it was the closest I’d felt to happiness in years.” Her fingers curl into claws that dig into her sides. “It took me a year to gather the courage to actually do it. I got close a few times, but I chickened out at the last minute.”
My heart bleeds for this girl, her pain brushing against some of my own fears. “What made last night different?”
“I heard my dad crying because he was so exhausted from working two full-time jobs.” She bows her head, her hair hiding her face. “That’s when I knew I had to stop being a coward. My parents worked so hard because of me. They were suffering because of me.”
Words of denial sit on my tongue, and I’m desperate to tell her she’s wrong. The truth of it is that none of it was her fault or her responsibility, and her parents worked so hard because they loved her. Even if I got through to her, though, it wouldn’t necessarily ease her misery. It could possibly make things worse, because she can’t undo her final actions. My job is to listen and help her find peace.
Absently, I rub the rough texture of the roof shingle beneath my hand as I search for the right response. Platitudes won’t help. There are no easy words to make everything better, but connection might make her feel less alone. My voice is rough when I finally say, “I get it. Not all of it, but… I’ve worked so hard to be perfect. My parents’ hands were so full with Donovan that I wanted to be the easy kid they never have to worry about. Now, I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how to stop.”
“I wouldn’t recommend ending it all.” She looks over at me with a dark, humorless smile. “Doesn’t make the pain go away.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, the words falling from my lips like warm rain. “You couldn’t control how you felt. Depression can’t be willed away. You loved your parents and felt this was the only way to protect them.”
Abby nods, a sense of relief taking over her features. “I did it for them. They are free now.”
It’s so hard to hear her think so little of herself, knowing her grieving parents don’t feel free at all. They are crushed by the loss of their daughter and will wear that pain for the rest of their lives. The best I can do for them now is to try to lighten their daughter’s burdens and give her a chance at peace.
“You did what you could for them,” I state, schooling my expression to convey understanding and compassion, buryingthe weight of her anguish inside me. “Now, you can let go. On the other side is a paradise without pain.”
She gently places one hand to her chest, and for the first time, there’s hope in her eyes. “It won’t hurt anymore? I’ll be free too?”
“Yes,” I assure her, fighting the emotions creeping up my throat. “You’ll be free, and after your parents have lived a long life, they’ll find you in paradise. You’ll be together again without the pain and burdens of mortal life.”
Her hands fall into her lap as the weight of her uncertainty seems to drop from her shoulders. “I want them to see me again when I’m happy and know that I really am in a better place.”
A shining gate appears next to us, an arch of golden light that appears to lead to a sunny meadow surrounded by a variety of trees. A welcoming path lined by flowers weaves its way through the forest.
Abby gazes toward the door with a wobbly smile. “It’s the woods. My paradise is the outdoors.”
“The pain hid your joy,” I comment, getting to my feet, “but it didn’t take away what you loved.”
She stands up, and I escort her toward the gate. The shining light washes over her, making her golden hued skin glow. Standing at the precipice of the afterlife, she requests, “Tell my parents that it wasn’t their fault. Tell them I’m safe, and we’ll see each other again.”
I really hope that’s true. This is only the beginning of her journey. If she reaches the end with a light heart, she will stay in paradise. If any part of her is weighed down and believes she’s unworthy, she will fall. Hell is the punishment of the spirit’s owncreation, and their internal demons will consume them until the demon is all that is left.
Before she walks through, I reach out, but my hand goes through her wrist. “Please be kind to yourself. You deserve to be happy again.”
“I will be,” Abby assures me, taking her first step inside. “How can I be anything else in paradise?” She touches the edge of the gate. “Thank you, not so perfect Kaleb. You’re a good person. I’m glad you were the one who helped me move on.”
“Glad I could help,” I reply, fighting to hide my concern. I hope I did enough, because the rest is up to her.
