Authors Note: Once again, not much thought into these stories. I spring from a thought and off I go! Reviews are appreciated and I will return each I get. Thank you!

THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Also, I need some formatting help? Is there a way to indent on here?

I accept death every day. It does not phase me anymore.

Each day, I start my morning with a corrupted body on a sheet of slate, cold and barren of motion and breath. I remind myself that I chose this profession. I chose to become unattached, the Queen of the Dead, as they call me.

There was one death I could not accept.

Maura,

Hi. I realize this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm ending my life.

Everybody won't be expecting this, I'm sure. I just want you to know that I

Love you. You are my world. I just realized I cannot be happy, even with you.

Please understand. You did nothing to cause my suicide. I'm going to open

My wrists on the Fairfield's boat in the ocean. It's the only boat I know.

Eventually, I'll throw myself overboard when I'm weak. Do not look for me.

I love you so much,

Jane.

I did not accept my own scream when I found the letter on my dining room table, perched like a cobra to sqeeze the life from me.

A frenzy of policemen and medical workers surrounded me when I made that crumbling call to Frost, who was at my side with the speed of a lightning bug. They took my letter from me. I knew they would. I have done this dance, just not this side of the steps. I made a copy, and kept it snug in my bra, to my chest. To my heart. I knew Frost did not feel the edges poking his chest as he held me tightly to him, cooing me that all would be okay. I felt myself too cracked and hurt to fight affection. Without Jane, I was completely alone. No family, no friends. She was all I had.

I felt abandoned, in a state of shock. It was like my insides had been ripped out of me, leaving me hollow. I couldn't understand how the woman I not so secretly adored could betray me by removing herself from my life. It was selfish, but all I could think of was me and Jane. I kept repeating, How could she do this to me? Jane was my life support, and I was gasping for air.

Frost had stayed with me through the next few hours, when Korsak entered my apartment. My eyes looked to his blue occulus for the answer, but I could already tell what it was. Tears continued to rush from my eyes with new vigor before he even spoke.

"The Fairfields reported their boat missing at 4 pm. After you called the police, we found it. Twenty miles into the Atlantic, covered in blood. Type O. Like Jane. I'm sorry, Dr. Isles."

I am not good with people. At least, not live ones. I knew Frost would fold to my will and leave when I asked enough. He has a metaphorical scoliosis; he will bend. I thought I needed to be alone, to try and understand why my friend would commit suicide in a time where I thought she seemed so happy. Just last night, I felt her warm body beside me at another one of our unplanned sleepovers. I nuzzled her neck, the only person I was comfortable releasing admiration for. Jane dropped a strong arm around me, whispering in her husky voice, "We should do this more often."

I hardly realized I had gotten into my car, but I also didn't realize I had been sobbing the entire day. My makeup had slid down my face with my avalanche of emotions, released from their locks. Naturally I blamed myself. I was the one Jane spent the most time with. Clearly, something I said must have upset her. Made her feel not good enough. I spent hours and hours of each day staring into those brooding eyes, thinking she was the most stunning woman on the planet. I never vocalized this. I don't know how. I thought she knew. I thought wrong.

When my car arrived in front of Jane's apartment, I was merely a passenger. I stepped into the familiar living room, crashing onto the couch that still lingered with her scent. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't acknowledge that this was the last place on earth that held my Jane's smell. I forced myself to walk around the apartment, the funeral march.

I do not rely on intuition. Jane has always pestered me about that.

However, I think she would be proud at this moment.

As I scanned the apartment for any life left in Jane, I surprisingly found it. There was a lot of life here. I looked at her calendar, and I saw dates for the next week and beyond. Doctors appointments, meetings, waiting for purchased items to arrive. Dinners with me. When I made my way to her kitchen table, I found bills separated. Some were paid, to be mailed. Others had not been paid yet, but there were post it notes to remind her. Most of all, I heard her voice say to me, "We should do this more often".

It didn't make sense to me. I completely detest when I cannot make sense of something, but this was beginning to look like an unsolved puzzle to me. Why would someone who wanted to die so badly give no warning signs, and leave evidence of a life continued?

I did not, and could not, accept that Jane had let the ocean take her in a wave of fate and only leave me a crumpled piece of paper behind.

That's not my Jane.