I don't have the heart to tell Sara she's dead just yet, not when she's sitting there smiling up at me like she used to back when everything was okay. She's still wearing the dress she wore on the day she died and she still looks exactly the same as she did back then. It warms and breaks my heart.
I remember burying her like it was yesterday, not that I'll ever tell her of course but any time the wind blows the scent of her favourite flowers around I picture how little her coffin looked when it was being lowered into the ground.
She hasn't aged a bit all these years, not that anyone's ever mentioned this to either of us. In fact I'd be hard pressed to remember the last time I spoke to someone outside of the house or even went outside as a matter of fact. I'm sure I must have done at some point, though we always seem to have enough food on hand.
If I remember putting a gun to my head and waking up to her smile again, well that's between you and me.
As far as Sara's concerned nothing has changed.
And if I can help it, nothing ever will.
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