Part 6 - The final chapter

  No one ever tells you how much of this job is about regret.

  When I first became a Guide, I thought my job was about helping people move on. That it was a service, a duty—something meaningful that allowed me to be part of something greater. And it is. But what they don’t tell you is that every goodbye comes too late.

  By the time a Guide is called, the damage has already been done. The fights have already happened. The wounds have already been inflicted. The apologies were usually never spoken. The regrets were often never voiced.

  People die with unfinished stories, and we are left to pick up the pieces.

  And sometimes, those pieces are sharp enough to cut us too.

  Sam was proof of that.

  I thought I understood the dangers of guiding spirits. I’d seen devolution before. I’d seen what happens when a soul clings too tightly to this world. And maybe I’ve just been lucky, but never had I been in the middle of something so personal, so deeply entwined in the fractures of a broken family.

  Sam had waited for a son who never came.

  CJ had resented a father he never truly knew.

  Neither of them ever got what they wanted from each other, and in the end, it cost them both everything.

  Knowing, understanding, and loving our friends and family can fix so much heartache. No one truly sees this like a Guide does.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  When you train to be a Guide, they tell you a lot of things.

  They tell you that death is natural. That it is just another step, that you will be there to help souls find their way forward.

  They tell you that some spirits may resist the call, that some will be confused, but that it is your job to reassure them, guide them, help them take the next step.

  They tell you about the families, how grief can turn even the gentlest souls into desperate, pleading wrecks. That you will have to stand strong, even when they beg for just one more moment, one more word. And that you have to say no. You cannot give one more word.

  They don’t tell you how it feels to watch a soul fight against the pull of the Beyond.

  They don’t tell you what it’s like to see a spirit turn, to feel the air shift as something unnatural claws its way into the physical world.

  They don’t tell you about the silence that follows an exorcism, about the way a family’s wails of grief change when they realize there is nothing left.

  They don’t tell you about the weight of breaking the rules.

  They don’t tell you how much of this job is about regret.

  They don’t tell you that you will fail.

  That one day, no matter how careful you are, you will make a mistake. And sometimes, that mistake will cost lives.

  I believed the job was about helping people move on. I thought I would be a bridge between worlds, ensuring that both the living and the Passed could find peace. I imagined quiet conversations, reassurances, gentle goodbyes. I thought I was offering closure.

  But I was wrong.

  Being a Guide isn’t about peace. It’s about consequences.

  I don’t get to fix things. I don’t get to turn back the clock, to let people mend what was broken. I don’t get to bring the dead back so they can tell their loved ones they’re sorry. Or that they’re loved. I don’t get to give closure.

  I’m supposed to just stand on the middle ground..

  Except I don’t just stand.

  I won’t.

  Because one day, I will take my final breath. I don’t want to have regrets.

  Will I see someone like me when it happens? Someone who breaks rules?

  Will I be one of the easy ones? Will I step forward into the Beyond without hesitation, without regret?

  I don’t think that I’ll hesitate. I cannot see myself looking back.

  Because if this job has taught me anything, it’s that the only thing worse than the unknown is never moving forward at all.