“Dean?” I croak his name, still not quite believing what I'm seeing.
“Hey, JJ.”
Oh God,not again.
I’ve started hallucinating again, haven’t I? I haven’t seen him in months, why is he back? And since when does he knock instead of just popping up? My subconscious has conjured him up again because of the guilt I’m feeling over what happened with Oscar. That’s why he’s back, I know it.
My heart pounds in my chest while I shake my head in disbelief and take a step back on unsteady legs. The shattered glass scattered across the floor is momentarily forgotten until one jagged piece stabs into the bottom of my bare foot. A searing pain shoots through me, but it pales in comparison to the shockand disbelief coursing through my veins as I stare into the eyes of my supposedly deceased husband.
My body freezes as I try to process what I am seeing, my mind unable to comprehend how he could be standing here before me when I was told he had died. In this moment, not even the sharp shard embedded in my skin can distract me from the overwhelming flood of emotions washing over me as I gape at him, afraid to even blink in fear that he will disappear once again. Dean’s eyes lower to the floor and he takes a step into the house, the glass crunching under his black trainers. “JJ,” Dean says again while I tip my head back to stare up at him wide-eyed.
“You're... n-not… you c-can’tbe…” I squeak incoherently while standing in a pool of my own blood that’s seeping from the cut on my foot. I’m sure I can feel my nervous system shutting down and the last of my sanity leaving me whilst I gape at him.
“JJ,” Dean lifts his hands and places them on either side of my face, they’re ice cold and damp against my warm skin. He stares into my eyes while he speaks slowly. “Breathe, baby. You’re in shock, but it’s okay, I’m here, I’m real and I’ll explain everything to you, but you’ve cut your foot and you’re bleeding.”
“Dean…” I whisper, my eyes brimming with tears as I lift my hands, my fingers tremble as I touch his face. Dean’s eyes close at my touch and he swallows thickly as he leans into my hand. “You’re not real… y-you can’t be real, you died,” I whisper, looking over his handsome face as my fingers trace every line and curve of his face. “I’m hallucinating again. You’re not real. You’ll leave me again like you always do.”
Dean opens his eyes and looks at me again, “Jeyla, I’m real baby, you’re not hallucinating. I didn’t die, I’m right here. Here, look...” He takes my hand and presses it to his chest above hisheart. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, and I shake my head, my lip quivering as tears spill over and roll down my face. “You feel that? Can you feel my heart beating for you baby girl? I’m real, I’m right here.”
“No,” I gasp, shaking my head. “No, youdied, they told us that your plane crashed, and you died. We had a f-funeral, I-I- buried y-you.” I sob, my fingers curling into his hoodie while I gaze up into those beautiful green eyes that I never thought I’d see again. Though his eyes that were usually bright and full of life, are now like windows to a deeper, untold story. Sunken and shadowed with dark circles betraying the restless nights he must have endured. There’s a haunted, distant gaze lingering in their depths, hinting at something that still haunts him.
“I know, baby, I know and I’m going to explain everything to you, I promise, but right now I need to look at your foot, okay?” My entire body is trembling uncontrollably as Dean sweeps me into his arms bridal style, kicks the door shut with his foot and carries me into the house.
Dean’salive.
Have I finally lost my mind? Is this just another figment of my traumatized imagination, creating a false sense of reality? Have I finally snapped under all the trauma