It has been a full six months and there has been no word. I know by now there would have been a phone call, a letter or something to tell me that he was alright. Nothing has come yet and it seals the idea that he is gone. Mated was supposed to be for life, but the life was a violent one. Maybe it just caught up with him faster and I might have to accept that it was great while it lasted, that the times we had were good.
Times like these I have been having them for months now. Maybe I wasn't prepared to let him go. Little by little I tell the story. Little by little, it seems a little more real. I know he is gone, my heart feels it. My head doesn't want to admit it. I know it though, I can feel it running through me if I touch the beast within. I know she misses her mate, and she knows he is never coming back.
Each little confession makes it more real. I have to find members for a band. See if one needs a lead singer or I can build one. Or I am going to fall deeply into this depression it is going to eat at me and at the beast inside.
I look at the crumpled up picture, the only one I have left every night before I go to bed and each night is a little better. It is better now that his scent isn't in the bed I am sleeping in to remind me he isn't there beside me. It is better now.
One day at a time they say. One day at a time and you will be alright and it won't hurt so much. I am still waiting for that day.
[With the last line, a crumpled photo is stuck back in the journal]
