She fell to the ground and the water crashed over her back. Each drop a lashing she deserved.
Jealousy invaded her body. Jealous of her once Heavenly Father. Jealous of her mother. They would have his embrace now. They would have his life. His love.
Jealousy grew to vitriolic rage. His absence birthing pain ten times greater than the tears he ever caused her to cry when he was here.
She wept until her body was spent. Until her body was numb. Then she wept more.
She wouldn't move. She couldn't get up. She cursed her prayer for death knowing it wouldn't work.
Why did she ever yell at him? Why did she ever scream?
Why didn't she swallow her pride, her pain, her desire, her fatigue and just hold him? Just hug him and kiss him and let him into her bed?
She loved him. More than she herself ever knew.
And now he was gone.
Now he was freed of her, of the pain she caused him, perceived or real, it didn't matter. He felt it and now he felt nothing but his freedom.
She felt nothing but regret and despair. A regret darker and closer than any shadow, unable to leave her side. A despair, indescribable.
He was free and she, the living dead. Longing to cross over knowing the peace would never come.
She got exactly what she deserved.
She should have done better when he was here. She should have done so much better.
Now she lie drowning in the shower of her own choices.
Letting each drop whip her with the pain she deserved.
God, how she missed him.