For 100_ghosts Achilles Heel prompt
Down the rows of dead she walked, the frost beneath her feet whispering as she moved through the morning fog.
Someone stood at the foot of his grave.
A full, dark beard covered the lower half of his face and the wind carried his words to her.
“Why’d you do it, kid?” he asked, stumbling slightly. “Always thinking about what you did. I wish you hadn’t."
John Winchester. The man her brother died to save.
He’d written her a letter…after. She never answered it, didn’t know what to say.
Still didn’t. But it was time to stop living with ghosts.