Send me “Goodbye” for the last voice message my muse leaves for yours before they die.

            it had started out as a sunny, happy morning. emica had slept through the night, a stark contrast to the tossing and turning and waking due to nightmares and night terrors that were the norm for her. it was odd to wake feeling refreshed, to be enjoying the way the sun settled over her face through the curtains. but, she did not question it. instead, she rose from her bed and went to the bathroom, took a shower, washed her face, looked at herself in the mirror for a little while. had she always been so… thin? she ran calloused fingertips over where a large faded bruise lay under her left rib. she could barely feel it anymore. that was good… she smiled at her reflection. good.              the girl got dressed, a light sweater and simple skirt, socks to the knee to cover her legs. she didn’t bother with shoes just yet. maybe today was a nice day to stay home, spend some time in the garden… she re-made her bed, smoothing out the wrinkles and lumps and lining her pillows just so before sitting down. she grabbed her phone and thought to call kayden, tell him how good she was feeling. maybe they could spend some time today, maybe even if her father wasn’t home, he could come and be with her in the garden. she’d always liked to have someone to share it with. to her disappointment, she got his voicemail, but didn’t think much of it. he was probably still sleeping. it was still fairly early in the morning.           “ sorry t-to bother you so ea-early, i just wanted t-to tell you good morning, and th-thuh-that i slept re-e-eally good last night. i f-feel amazing. it’s so wuh-wuh-weird… but i’m not c-c-cuh-complaining. it’s nice. well, i huh-hope you get this message soon and c-call m-muh-me back. i was th-thinking that maybe i could show you the guh-guh-garden tod-day, you could s-s-see the ko-koi. well anyway… before i g-go on too long… i luh-luh-love you, kayden. i love you so much… b-bye…” she pressed end and sighed, a sudden feeling of loss settling into her chest. she tried to shake it off. today was going to be a good day. she’d see him later.            emica climbed off of her bed and silently opened her door and decided to really make sure her father wasn’t home. she crept quietly through the hall, over to his bedroom. the door was cracked open, but she heard and saw nothing so she moved on down the long mansion hall and downstairs, to check the study or anywhere else he might be. she turned the corner into the kitchen, and her breath caught at what her eyes first laid on.            there was glass all over the floor, and the smell of alcohol wafted drearily to her nose and stung it. she coughed slightly from the sensation and looked carefully. her father was nowhere to be seen. unease took her over, a flicker of panic lit in her gut. swallowing, she backed up and decided to go around to the study. the french doors that let to her father’s study were wide open. the panic grew.              “ f-father… ” she called, worry joining with her unease. books and papers littered the floor, the flat screen on the far wall above the fireplace was soon to fall from it’s mount, the screen shattered. vintage bottles and collectibles scattered the ground, broken, haphazard. something was wrong. how could she have slept through all of this? with another step closer, she made out a lump of shadow just around the corner of the large oak desk left to the fireplace. “ father…? ” she tried again, coming closer to the shape… then it moved.                jacob roseland rose from behind the desk, his movements slow, off balance. she could tell he was drunk then, and took a step back.               “ don’ you move… ” he rumbled, his voice slipping. “ you… you jus’ don’ fuckin’ move… lemme get a good look at my little girl… ” he came towards her, his steps just barely keeping him up. emica’s eyes widened as he came even farther into the light. his left hand took grip of the desk for a moment, but his right swung at his side… a pistol gripped in it.              “ have i ever… have i told you how much you look like your mother? it’s fucking creepy… yuh-you scare me, yanno? suh-sometimes i …i think ‘m gonna wake up a-and you’re gonna have your spindly little hands ‘round my neck… but then, but… then it… ‘s not you…. emica? ” he tilted his head and rose his right hand, pointing the gun at his daughter, coming closer. it shook. emica was beginning to shake herself, her hands balling up her sweater, too afraid to move, to breath too much, to look away… tears began to roll down his tomato red face. “ why you’d… why you havvta look like ‘er? why couldn’t you… i shoulda smothered you a long time ago… you’re not real, not… not her… you’re jus’… a ghost… ” 

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           ”No, I-I’m fine, honestly…”