It rained that week.
It rained a lot. It poured during the day, it poured during the night. The rain tore the dreams from my skull each night, and I slept in a darkness as the sky wept.
The wind whispered throughout the night and the house was moaning and groaning in total agony. She slept soundly next to me, turning only once every few hours. She would wake me, whispering my name in her slumber. I was not sure of what to do. All that I could do was extend my arms to pull her into a close embrace. I couldn't sleep without her there.
The betrayal was a stab in her back, and more painfully, her heart. Excuses that simply weren't good enough found an escape from my mouth. Days passed since then, days in which words were not spoken between us. Death had found my eyes once more. He laid a kiss upon our friendship. Just one kiss to take it all from us.
I remember she slept through the day once, when the pain of my mistakes became overwhelming. She slept in my brother's bed, far away from me. I couldn't hurt her when she was with him. He was taller and stronger than I, and could easily break an arm or a leg of mine. I tried my hardest to speak to my beloved, yet my attempts were all in vain. She didn't want to see me, to speak to me. Defeat and I had become best friends.
So my new best friend and I sulked and slunk back to my room. My bed was empty and no longer appealed to me without her there. The door clicked shut, and every corner of the room beckoned to me. Lazily, I leaned against the door, sliding slowly to my floor. I curled up in a ball, and I cried. I cried for the pain that had enveloped my body, and cursed the cancer that caused it. I cried for the loss I'd just suffered. The strength I'd always had to pull through these things had finally broken and failed me.
My first love had realized how bad for her I was. Not just my first, she was my last. She had this hope I'd live, and I know she was wrong. I was going to die. I selfishly lied to her, saying I was improving, so she would stay. In all reality, I didn't have anymore than a year left to spend with her, to stay for her.
But if she didn't want me anymore, what was the point? Why should I suffer every second of the day to sleep alone, to be alone?
I didn't have the strength to pull myself off of the floor anymore. I crawled, every bit of my body aching and screaming in protest, to my bathroom.
The life left me in small spurts. I could see it. My pain ending. My sister sat above me, screaming. She held my hands. "Someone help me! Please!" Her voice was shrill and panicked. I heard more footsteps.
My brother stood above me, phone in hand. My sister's blonde locks clung to her cheeks. As much as I loved her, she was the last thing I'd see. It hurt me. "Are you stupid? What were you thinking?!" she screamed at me. I couldn't keep my eyes open, let alone respond to her. Her hands were on my face . . . So warm. Hot, even. I couldn't open my eyes. "Stay with me! Do you hear me? Open your eyes and look at me!"
"Let me see him! Please!" My favorite voice of all of them. I struggled to open my eyes. I won the fight for a few seconds to see my brother rushing her from the room. She fought him so valiantly. "Stop! Let go of me!" My gaze met hers. "I'm sorry!" she screamed at me. I closed my eyes again. The pain wasn't overwhelming anymore. The rain got quieter and quieter, as did everybody else's frantic screams.
I ignored everything, listening for her voice. It was the last thing I wanted to hear . . . I wanted to remember her into the depths of hell.
