Her nails stung when dragged against him, even over his shirt, though he didn’t make a sound aside from the sharp intake of breath. “Zoey, calm down.” He tried whole different array of tones: commanding, loving, gentle and harsh. Nothing got through to her.
Eventually, he settled for helping her to the ground and sitting with her on the sidewalk, people stepping around the two as Joseph struggled to hold her still. “Zoey, he isn’t here. You’re having a bad trip.” He ached to help her, the pain in her voice striking something deep inside him.
I’ll come back for you. You’ll see.
Funny thing was, as much as she had looked up to him and wanted to make things better, there was no way that she could ever have him back the same way. Not just because he was dead, but because he had already began to change long before the incident had even happened. What she didn’t get was closure.
“No…” It came out as a whimper, a sound more human than anything else she had made that evening. She was trembling into Joseph’s arms and her hands coming to a rest against his sides, clutching onto his shirt like there was nothing else to hang onto. This hadn’t been the first time this had happened before, but then again, she couldn’t remember the last.
