She can't die.
She just can't.
For years, she tried different methods; suicide pills, slitting her wrists, stabbing herself. Nothing worked. She always woke up back in her bed in disbelief.
She just couldn't die.
Aisha wasn't a social girl. In fact, she was nearly invisible within the walls of her school. Pompous and vain people disregarded her presence and equaled it to a mere mouse's. Quieter people simply ignored her. Most people didn't even know her name. And it was fine like that.
But she couldn't die. Of old age, perhaps, but she couldn't be murdered of non-natural reasons. She'd always wake up in her bed a few minutes later, go downstairs, and those who've seen her murdered give her the same reaction every time – they acted like they usually do around her. It's beginning to drive her crazy.
Classmates who'd seen her shot by a madman simply acted as if it never happened. It confused her, it despaired her. She was used to being ignored, but not to this extent.
Not to this extent.
When she discovered this at her first death (by accidental ingestion of rat poison at age six), she'd been pleased. Aisha would show her only friend, Echo, and swallow poison. But it never seemed to make Echo startled or surprised in the very least. Echo would always act as if it never happened. The news never reported on Aisha's countless deaths. Nobody ever remembered.
When she was thirteen, Aisha saw the reality within this curse. It made her immortal to non-natural catastrophes. But it seemed to draw these accidents to her like a magnet. When she turned fifteen, dying seemed to happen on a regular basis. It was normal for her.
Cars. It was almost always cars. She had stopped committing numerous acts of suicide long ago – the accidents were always by another person. Once, she had been kidnapped and left to starve. It was always like this.
God, she wanted to die so much. It wasn't the fact that she couldn't die. It was just that nobody remembered. Nobody cared.
Then he came along during her last year of high school. He was radiant like the sunshine, and he was the first person to talk to her in a long time. It was a simple 'hi', but it made her happy. Her heart would get fuzzy, and every time he said hi she'd find herself unable to reply, her cheeks slowly turning red. Even the accidents became less frequent, and they stopped altogether halfway through the year. She tried to tone it down.
After all, who'd want to be friends with a suicidal freak?
Apparently Elsword Sieghart did.
He didn't talk to her often, but it was a long conversation when he did. It was a one-sided talk, mostly on his part, but she'd managed to add in a few words here and there. It wasn't making Elsword unpopular, oh no. He was much too liked by guys and girls alike to do that.
And then one day it occurred to her – she was being burdensome on him. Aisha was immortal, a piece of broken glass. She had to remind herself, day after day that her whole purpose in life was to find a way to die, to get away from his hellhole known as Elrios.
Aisha talked to herself on a daily basis, trying to convince herself that she was trying to die – it was her dream to die. But that dream was slowly fading. The more she saw of Elsword, the more she grew attached to him. He was her life. One day, she found herself looking forward to the day. It surprised and shocked her. She actually had found a reason to live. Her parents and classmates didn't care, they simply just didn't care.
But Elsword Sieghart cared.
"Why don't you talk much?" was a question asked by the redhead on a rainy, depressing day. The rain had dampened her mood so much that she had considered trying to kill herself once more, to see if she could die again, but a quick smile from yours truly melted away all despairing thoughts.
Aisha didn't answer. She almost never answered. It didn't seem to bother the redhead anymore. He leaned back on the railing he was next to, his curious red gaze piercing past her book and into her eyes. She shifted uncomfortably, but gazed hollowly back into his eyes. Unlike hers, his was full of life.
She'd hate to contaminate it.
They were walking home together. It made her heart beat in irrational movements. She hated how they were neighbors. As they walked, her eyesight slowly slid down to his hand. Dangling by his side, as if he knew she was staring at it, he slipped it into his pocket briefly, but brought it back out again. He abruptly stopped, and Aisha looked up to realize they were at a crosswalk, the red hand flashing uncomfortably in her eyes. Elsword was silent and his face was expressionless, but his eyes were bright and cheerful.
Casting her eyes back down to his hand, she found hers inching towards it, and snapped it back, her cheeks flaring. When Aisha looked up, the light had turned into the mocking green man. Elsword started to walk, his footsteps light and airy compared to her slow, clunky ones. Staring at the cars that stopped near the front, her heart sped up. She was never comfortable around cars, so she walked more quickly to get to the other side.
She heard a loud honking noise, a scream, and turned. Bright lights flashed in her eyes, the rapid spinning wheels of the truck. She thought gloomily, Here we go again. Within those few seconds, her mind switched briefly to the shocked Elsword standing five feet away from her. It's okay, Aisha. He won't remember this anyway. There was a sickening crash.
But it wasn't her.
She stared in disbelief, red flecks dotting her face. Her foot was three inches from the car's wheels, she was staring at a black truck's side, and red – red everywhere. Red. Blood. Elsword. No. No. No.
Aisha screamed.
The funeral was dark and dreary. Nobody was happy with the death of the boy everybody had loved.
A few days later, a soggy piece of paper was discovered on his grave, taped there with a thin slice of duct tape.
I love you
I'll be with you soon
Dream goes on
A/N: Ending isn't supposed to make sense. I suppose if you read the whole thing thoroughly you'd get the point I was trying to hint at, especially the dream goes on point.