No Parting After Death

"Heaven can wait, heaven can wait, it's true

I still need you

No one can save me, nothing can change me, it's true

No one but you."

- George Ragan the Dead Son, Heaven Can Wait

She had been dead long enough to know marriage vows really did stop after a final breath was taken. She had been dead long enough to know "forever" actually had a time limit. She had been dead long enough to know there was no such thing as an unbreakable promise, not when one was still alive.

Death had other rules.

Death had superior vows, no time limits, and no promise could be broken.

Not without severe consequence.

She had been alone long enough to know she had to make her choice wisely. She had been alone long enough to know she only had one chance left to have an eternal love. She had been alone long enough to know precisely what she wanted, and how to wait for it patiently.

Death was eternal.

Death made love in the afterlife eternal.

She deserved a love like that.

She made her choice. Picked the perfect one out of all the options who came and went in the many, many years she had long since lost track of. Picked the one she ached for, the one who almost reminded her what it felt like to be alive again, producing a very strange sensation in her body - even she wasn't sure whether or not what was left of her was physical. None of it mattered. Her choice would die, and they would be together.

She hated having to be the one to kill her.

The beautiful young woman with honey brown hair that flowed down to her shoulders, naturally curling at the ends. Her eyes matched in color, a shade lighter, like cinnamon. She had the most perfect smile. It was a gift, a blessing, to be able to witness her presence at all.

She wanted her.

She knew the young woman would not want her if she was the reason for her death. It would take time for her to come around if she knew.

She had time, but she was sick of waiting.

It had to look like an accident, something purely innocent.

The young woman had a routine she stuck to quite rigidly. At the end of every week she poured herself a glass of Merlot and drank it in a warm bath with a book, her favorite music playing in the background.

Accidents happened in the bathroom all the time, didn't they?

Her favorite part was the way the wine mixed with the bath water. She dropped it the exact same instant the hair dryer touched the water behind her. The deep red turned it an odd shade of pink; the water already had some salts in it that gave it a nice smell of eucalyptus. That smell was rapidly replaced by the stench of burnt flesh.

Her least favorite part was watching the way her body writhed. It broke her heart to see her in such potent agony. The fear in her widened eyes was horrific.

But it was over with quickly.

She was oblivious to the truth.

She would make her love her, make her want to stay, and then she would tell her.

Their eternity together would be perfect. She would make sure of that.

"Where am I? ...What happened?"

Poor thing, sounded so very fearful... she hated that sour tinge to her tone. Hated to see the way she cowered in the corner, repeatedly running her hands through her honey brown hair... frantically glancing all around, eyes glazed over with a sheen of tears.

"I don't understand, I don't understand..."

She moved closer, out of the shadows. The body in the bathtub had slipped all the way under the red stained water, submerged with the wine glass. And hair dryer. She moved slowly so as not to startle her - nevertheless she let out a small, frightened squeak upon noticing her, pushing herself even farther back into the corner. Kneeling in front of her, she slowly extended a hand, palm facing the ceiling.

"I'm here. I won't hurt you - you have nothing to fear."

"What happened to me?"

"I'm so sorry. It looks like it was an accident..."

"What happened?"

She was crying. Whimpering. Building in volume, and she gently shushed her, shifting closer. She extended her other hand, brushing her fingertips over her cheek and searching for any signs of apprehension towards her. Nothing. In fact, she leaned in to the touch.

"I know you must be frightened. But I can help you."

Cinnamon brown eyes widened an increment. "Y-you'll stay? And... help?"

She smiled. Felt relief for the first time in decades upon decades. She took her hand, still offered palm-up, her own shaking so badly it took a moment to engage her motor functions. Their fingers interlaced together.

A perfect fit.

"Oh, my dear. I will never leave. I promise."

And she smiled back. A tentative, trembling gesture, with tears framing her cheeks - they glided over her hand. She puffed out a small, relieved sigh and turned fully into her touch, gripping her other hand in a vice.

"Thank you."