(A/N: So, I was listening to this song called "Accidental Babies" By Damien Rice. You should listen to it. It inspired me to write this story. I'm kind of really feeling this. I hope you all feel it too. :P First, I thought this was going to be a One-Shot but it really all unfolded.

Disclaimer. I am not Stephenie Meyer. But, if I were I'd be a freakin millionaire.)

Well I know I make you cry

And I know sometimes you wanna die

But do you really feel alive without me?

If so, be free

~Accidental Babies - Damen Rice

The crinkled cream sheets remained half untouched. The right side of the bed slumped more than the left and the room was always cold and dark now. The silver frame on my nightstand that once held my life's happiness was empty. Empty like every bottle in the now locked liquor cabinet. I couldn't bare to move it. Once or twice my fingertips reached out to touch it on their own accord. So many nights I went to bed sloshy and warm but never full. No matter what I did, I was always empty. Sometimes I would wake up, when the moonlight was the brightest at night. I'd reach out my left hand to remember that nothing was there. I'd go to say something that struck me as funny, then stop mid-sentence and recall that those days were over. Now, I could only speak to the pillows, or the wall. Neither would laugh.

I couldn't sleep. I practically became a monster.

Sometimes, I would pick up the phone to call my only love. But, I resisted. I couldn't call. I didn't want to hear what would surely be said to me. Or what wouldn't be said. I couldn't stomach it. My heart was filled with pain. Every beat was hopelessly meaningless and empty. Hollow. I couldn't forgive myself. I wasn't enough. Or maybe I was too much. I was a time bomb. But, I was alone before I could explode and set the both of us on fire. Maybe it was because I was fearless. I wasn't afraid of the two of us being close. I wasn't worried about ruining our friendship. Because, I knew nothing could ruin it. I was in it for life. We were exact opposites. But, I loved it.

Sometimes, I caught a familiar scent that still lingered in parts of my apartment. The scent of strawberries and crisp linens fresh from the wash. The most painfully beautiful scent in the whole world. Maybe it was just a phantom scent; the memory of a scent that no longer lingered. I didn't know anymore. I didn't know anything.

I would occasionally count the ticking of the clock to get sleep at night. because she left her coat on the back of my bedroom door, and I would never shut my eyes so I could just stare at it. Other things were left behind. But, what tore me apart the most was the box that contained a sweatshirt, a necklace and a friendship bracelet that I made when I was five years old. They were in our - my - closet. . They were left behind. They were left behind to torture me. I was sure of it.

When I glanced at my phone, there were always a thousand texts and missed calls from my sister and my brother. My mom called too sometimes. But, I was sure she wasn't surprised that I didn't answer. I knew they were all close to giving in. There was really no point.

Of all the things I've never understood, I understood exactly why I was alone. I made her cry. She made me cry. I held her tight. She pushed me away. I kissed her lips. She ran her fingers through my hair. I loved her. She loved me. But I wasn't scared and she was. She was so scared and though I never gave her reason, I understood. She was always cautious and I was a jumper. I jumped into the relationship because it was as easy as counting to three. It was as easy as blinking and just as necessary as breathing. There had never been any other option for me. Never. But, maybe it was different for her. I was shy and she was beyond rash. She was bold and brave and gutsy. I was quiet and I knew just how to handle her. I could put out the fires she started with other people. I could take care of her. She never really let me.

She wanted to go.

So I had to let her.

She wanted to be free.

She wanted to be in the light.

She left me in the dark.

I let her go.

She took my heart with her.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. My eyes tried to figure out what shapes the bumps on the ceiling made. She and I used to do that when we were wrapped up in each other's arms, blissful and unable to sleep. I tried to make some of the shapes from my memories come back, but nothing looked the same. My eyes didn't see things the same way anymore. I couldn't stand it.

My phone buzzed. I almost didn't turn to look at it, but I had to. I always checked my phone to see if it was her. I picked it up, throwing a fleeting glance at it. It was her and I picked it up before the second ring happened.

"Hello?" I said, breathless.

"You better come to the hospital." Said a man's voice on the other end.

My heart picked up and I didn't know what was going on. I knew it wasn't something good.

"Wha-?" I tried to articulate some type of question but it was impossibly difficult. My mind was swarmed with tiredness and confusion and now worry.

"She's asking for you. She's not doing well."

The phone disconnected and I was left in the dark with a choice.

This whole situtation never would have happened if I didn't let go. But, I did. I let go.

I did this to myself.