
Angeline's chest rose and fell as she slept. She was dreaming about her Timmy again.
He was holding her in his arms again. Her head was lying on his chest, and she could hear his heart beating. One of his hands stroked her hair gently. It was perfect; just the two of them. No words needed to be spoken. They were just together.
But then Angeline opened her eyes, and she was alone in her dark bed once more.
She still hoped, believed that her husband was alive out there somewhere. Sometimes it felt as though he was standing behind her, with a smile on his face, looking after her. But then she would turn around, and he would be gone. Just like he always was.
Every waking moment, he was what filled her head; a constant presence of love. She was never truly alone, not entirely. Even though her Timmy wasn't sitting next to her, some part of him was.
Or maybe it was a part of her. She wasn't sure any more. All she knew was the endless fear and pain, the waiting, the waiting. It didn't matter whether she was asleep or awake. Timmy was always with her, but he never was. She just wanted him to stay, or go. She didn't know any more. She just wanted it to be over.
But she couldn't let him go. Timmy was everywhere, all around; this was his house, his bed, his table, his wallpaper, his wife. A little part of him was in everything he owned, even her. He was in the blood that pumped through her veins. She would die without him.
She was dying without him.
She was with him, and she was without him, and she was dying. Her Timmy was a part of her that she could never let go. He was her love, her life. He was the blood that pumped through her veins.
He was the air in her lungs. She could never let him go, even if she wanted to. Asleep or awake, he was with her, watching over her. And inside her head, she was watching over him too, wherever he was now.
As tears started to her eyes, Angeline wiped them on the bed sheets. "Is it the same for you?" she whispered. "Do you see me everywhere?" But no answer came. Just like always.