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The figure stood before me. They resembled a person, at least in shape. But parts of it were dark, pitch blackness, while other parts of it were bright, so bright it burned my eyes looking too long. I let out a sigh. I was sitting with my legs crossed, staring down at the white floor in front of me.

“What happened?” I looked up towards it. It didn’t speak, it never spoke when I saw it. “It’s been a while,” I said. “I saw you though.” It tilted their head to the side “When my unci was dying, my family was in the hospital room with her. I saw you, standing next to her.”

Still no response. The silence sliced through me as I felt my heart swelling. My unci was kind and the only good adult I had in my life. When I needed someone, when times were tough, I knew I could go to her. The only reason I’m here today is because of her, because of all the little things she did that she never knew meant everything to me. I pulled my knees to my chest. The pressure was becoming too much. I could feel it building behind my eyes.

The figure sat down next to me, not warm, not cold, just a void. “I guess I got through it. My unci was a big part of it. Every time I tried to…” I cleared my throat. It had been a while since I spoke about my depression, about my suicide attempts. I gestured to the open, limitless, space around us and I think it understood what I meant. “You know, I’d wake up in the hospital and she was there. The last time I was in the hospital I had seven stitches in my arm, blood transfusion, it was a whole thing. But she was there, I woke up and she was holding my hand.” I could feel the warmth of my tears rolling down my face. “You weren’t there.” I looked at it now. “Why didn’t I see you then?” Still no response. It sat down though, right next to me.

I could feel the tears running down my face, the only warmth which was slowly freezing. “Why did I always wake back up?” I used my index and middle fingers to emphasize “my time.” It was impossible to tell if the figure was looking towards me or looking away. “I never wanted to come back, at least not back then.” I wiped the tears running down my face before they could dry, blew my nose into my sleeve.

“I hope today isn’t the day I go.” I thought about my wife, where she was, what she was doing. I got scared thinking of her being alone, of me not being with her. If I was here again then that meant I wasn’t there with her. Or maybe my body was; maybe I was laid out in a casket with my grandfather’s buffalo robe over it, a star quilt wrapped around me and some sage and sweetgrass in my hand. My body was there, but I was here.

“It’s crazy to me. My life feels like it’s been so long, but it’s only been 25 years.” My knees pulled up against my chest, I rested my head on them. “I feel so tired, every day.” I couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “But I get home, see my dog, hug her, and for once it’s all been worth it.” I started to feel angry, thinking about my life and how unfair it all felt.

“Why don’t you fucking say anything!” I stood up quickly, the figure still sitting there, no movement as I began berating it, telling it how I felt, telling it how unfair it all was that I had come so far just for it to be bothering me again. “You couldn’t take me then, but now here you are again!” I didn’t stop, the words burst out of my throat like lava in an erupting volcano. Still, it sat there, unbothered, uncaring, a complete void of life. After some time, I realized it was pointless, I was here.

“Why do you have to be so unfair?” I felt all the air removed from my lungs. “Now that I’ve got a life I want, why can’t you just fuck off?” I laid down on the ground, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Everyday was hell and you couldn’t be bothered to do anything, but here you are now.” I thought about my wife, about my dog. I thought about the long strenuous journey I had taken and how it was coming to an end, how it felt like it was slipping away from me.

The figure stood up and laid down next to me. “Fuck you,” I said again, the air still having a hard time finding its way to my lungs. All around us was just white light, not blinding, not painful, just white. I looked over at the figure and for the first time I felt that it was looking at me. This realization mustered whatever energy I had left and I jolted upright. “No, no, no, piss off!” I started pacing, my legs, which felt like cinder blocks a moment ago, now couldn’t help but keep moving.

“You don’t get to decide this, you don’t get a say in my fucking life. I did this, my unci would be proud of me for everything I’ve done and you don’t get to take it all away from me for no reason! This is my life!” I kept pacing towards it then away from it. When I turned back towards it, it was standing there in front of me and I stopped. It placed its hand on my shoulder.

Xavier Wakinyan Jones is a student at Oglala Lakota College.