When I'm Gone I'm Never Really Gone Novels & Stories

So sad but true, for me, there's only you Been crying since the day, the day you went away. `I remember date and time, December twenty-fifth, Sunday twenty-five after nine in the doorway with your case no longer shouting at each other, there were tears on our faces, and we were letting go of something special. Why do we ever know what we've got 'til it's gone? How could I carry on? the day you went away 'cause I've been missing you so much I have to say been crying since the day

Only now did I realize that in Gabriele’s eyes, my so-called escape was nothing more than a childish tantrum. The thought of it made me laugh, and I pushed the insignia back toward him. “I’m not going back with you.” Gabriele froze. “What did you say?” I looked at him and made myself clear. “Is your hearing failing you, Don Carlos? I said I’m not going back with you. There was never a place for me there before, and there still isn’t one now.” Gabriele’s expression turned solemn. “Faye, how long are you going to keep this up? Do you think you’re the only one who’s suffered?”

My beloved portraits—the ones I carefully chose, hung, admired every single damn morning—they were GONE. Not just missing. No, no, no. They had been annihilated. Shards of wooden frames littered the floor like the remains of a massacre. My portraits. Destroyed. Crashed. Pulverized. Gone, gone. Do you know what I mean by “gone gone”? Like, the kind of gone where angels weep and demons laugh? Yeah. That type of gone. My chest seized up. I nearly forgot how to breathe. My soul left my body, went outside, bought cigarettes, smoked two, and still didn’t come back.

I hear his footsteps fade into nothing. A piece of my soul is gone. A part of me is really gone.

Not lost. Not gone. Transformed.

"Enough! We're heading to brunch. You're all sweaty and gross, so don't bother tagging along." Mom was already in the car, calling out from a distance. "Hurry up! That place doesn't hold reservations. We're going to be late!" I stood there, watching them drive away without me. They treated me like an outsider, but that was fine. The country still needed me, and my team still believed in me. If they did not want me anymore, I would fulfill their wishes.

Henry shouted, "No! Yelena, I will never divorce you! And the child—why did you never tell me about it?" His voice trembled as he spoke. He was probably regretting it, but what was the use of regret? We could never go back. No matter how hard he tried, it was over. "I will never agree to a divorce!" Henry insisted. "Don't joke with me. This isn't funny at all." So, he thought I was joking.

I tried to fit in where I never truly had a place. But this time? This time, I’ll remember. This isn’t my world. It never was. I’m just here to observe. To walk through. And eventually, to leave. I’ll never stay.

Empty. That couldn't begin to describe how I felt. Numb. That could to an extent. I guess, after all, we didn't have a bond that would enable me to know whether or not she was alive. Because I was only just finding out she was... Gone. I couldn't even bring myself to think it. Eunice was gone, I wouldn't ever see her again, wouldn't ever hear her laugh or tell me that I looked like I'd just drank wolfsbane. Ever again.

Cars sped past me, caught up in the bustle of the city. I suddenly had a thought. Would Mom and Dad feel sad if I died? Eyes unfocused, I walked toward the center of the road.