It's been two years. Two long damn years since the battle, the fight, and his death. Sometimes I get a weird feeling that he would come back, but no, this isn't a fairy tale. Nothing can reverse that night. I still remember the day I went to school after I had recovered. No one knew what really happened, except that Michael was gone. Dead. I remember walking down the hallways, everyone bowing their heads when they saw me. Was I a hero in their eyes, or was it just a respectful thing to do for the best friend of the fallen? Probably both. But now, two years after the event, no one remembers. No one except me.
During those two years, my parents decided to send me to a shrink, even though they knew what was wrong with me. I wake up from nightmares, replaying that day, over and over; vividly. Sometimes, no matter where I am, I scream. Heads turn my way and my parents would look ashamed. I was now just a wreck who replaced their daughter. I just remember what happened and I let out my anger. I hardly express anything through talking anymore. The most you can get out of me are short answers. But no more whole sentences; those are rare. And right now, I'm on my way to a shrink, he thinks he can work out my problems, which isn't true.
"Esmee, tell me, what happened the night Michael died." The psychiatrist asked me.
"I told you before not to use his name." Surprisingly, Dr. Whitefield was the only person I actually talked to in a complete conversation.
"Okay. What happened the night he died, or what were you doing?"
"It was a battle, me and him against swarms of angels. Eventually, Elizabeth had enough of the games and decided to send the wolf in, it killed him. I stabbed her afterwards. Okay, now you now, I'll leave."
"Esmee, that isn't true, just merely you trying to cover up his death, his body is missing, he drowned and they couldn't find his remains."
"If you believe that shit, then you don't know the half of it. I was there, so I would know. You were not so you wouldn't."
"Dear, you can't live in this world you have made up for yourself. You have to face the reality." He looked down at my wrist. "Pull up your sleeves please." I pulled them up and showed him my scars. Fresh scars. "You have to stop this." He added notes to his notepad and sighed.
"I'm not fine, but I'm fine without you." I said. I say this to him every meeting, yet he won't get the message.
"Esmee, what is that supposed to mean? You say that every time, but you never tell me what you mean."
"You don't need to know right now. All you need to know is, I'm not okay, but I will be if you stop asking me these ridiculous questions." I looked at the clock. 5:30. "It's time for me to leave now. Goodbye." I walked out the door and got into my mom's car as she walked in to have her talk with the doctor. The wolf, who I decided to name Michael, was in the backseat.
"I'll get you back someday. I promise and I won't do anything else until I do." When I said that, he climbed to the front seat into my lap and I stroked his fur while my mom got into the car and started to tell me what Dr. Whitefield told her. I stared at the scenery passing by, hardly listening to a word she was saying. "I promise I'll get you back." I whispered.