Page 449 of Eternal
I hope I can live with him one day, have that big house I always dreamed of, wake up beside him every morning and smile.
I missed smiling, I missed the sun, I missed daydreaming.
And he made it all possible again.
He made music sound better, stars shine brighter, irises grow back. He fills my life with the need to live.
He said my surprise would be completely done two months after my birthday, he even marked the calendar in this apartment. September fourth. We’re going to see the Northern Lights.
I can’t wait to see it, I hope I’ll be able to tell him how grateful I am that he helped me survive my own head.
I can’t wait to break free from this.
Maybe Mom was wrong. Maybe Christian and Brittany too. Maybe I was meant for happiness.
I hope I am.
I want to share it with him.
I hope he wants that too, because I love my partner, and I can’t wait to finally be able to tell him that. Maybe soon, and I’ll kiss him then. It can wait. We’re eternal after all.”
I did. God, I did.
I wanted it more than anything. I wanted her.
Her love.
Her dreams.
Her laugh.
And all I got was blood and cold, and the dead body of the love of my life.
September 4th.
The day was marked, I came back here and finished the house after she died.
And it was finally done. She wanted to see it complete, she was so excited. From here, we were supposed to take a flight, see the Northern Lights like she always dreamed. But now it stupidly stands here, finished, empty.Too late.
I wanted to give her that love, the house she dreamed of, with deep blue walls, stars on the ceiling, a bench in the garden filled with irises and a swing, a large TV to watch Casablanca on rainy nights. We could’ve brought Mischka and Notch here.
I was building it for her, because I wanted to make it real.
“Happy birthday, my love.” I whisper, kissing her writing.
I lay there, in the garden of irises she always wanted, eyes closed, then open them to watch the sun go down.
I never got to tell her I loved her when she was still alive.
Never got to hear it from her.
She died sad. She died smiling. Because she thought a year was enough? Because she thought she didn’t deserve more?
It wasn’t… We didn’t have enough time.
The sun dips low, painting the sky in bruises, so much brighter since you died.
I pull out the bottle from my jacket, clear liquid. I don’t say a word, I drink it all.
