Before I died, I had made one last struggle. Countless times, I had called her. I begged Bonnie to come home, to just sit with me for a moment. I begged her to help me look for Mandy one last time.
I begged her to just look at me.
And now, she wouldn't even come to look at my body.
Every call ended the same way: with the sharp click of a disconnected line.
Her last words to me echoed in the silence. "Justin Simmons, you created this mess; you fix it. Don't come crying to me, even if you're dying. Don't cause me any more trouble."
Well, she got her wish. I was dead.
The irony was suffocating. Even in death, I couldn't make her look back at me. Not once. Years of devotion, years of love... all of it amounted to nothing.
Now, as a drifting spirit, I was forced to watch. I watched her cling to Brandon, kissing him, reluctant to leave his side. I watched her walk away from him, glancing back three times before finally focusing on her duty.
Meanwhile, down on the damp riverbank, the object of everyone's attention lay exposed.
My corpse.
Bloated and hideous. A night in the churning water had distorted my features beyond recognition. The face that was once mine was now a swollen, gruesome mask.