A/N: Okay, so this is something very, very different than anything I have ever wrote/read. I'm going to be telling this story in Death's POV. Yes. You heard right, Death. I hope I didn't scare you away yet. It's just like another story, just adding a little twist to it. You'll see, and I guarantee you will like it…I hope.

Some of this may get confusing, but I'll try my best to explain it if you need it. This is Deaths POV. But you will notice that some things may seem like its being told differently. You'll notice it, but if you have any question, just ask.

P.S. THIS IS A LUCAS/PEYTON STORY!!!

the girl he left behind…

He didn't mean it.

She wasn't supposed to be that girl. He wasn't supposed to make her become that girl.

But maybe it was written in the stars, just like he said it was. He always told her that their kind of love was written in the stars.

That's one of the things that drew me toward them. I may be dead, but I know a good love story when I see it. Need some examples? Does Romeo and Juliet ring a bell? How about Napoleon and Josephine? No? What about Jack and Rose from Titanic, and Landon and Jamie from A Walk to Remember? (Even if they arn't real, you'll get my point.)

Name the one thing that tears them apart from getting their life long happy ever after.

I'll give you a clue. Me. That's right, Death.

But anyway, I never believed in finding solace in the stars. I mean, who could blame me. I take away people's hope into finding some kind of peace in this world. I tried so hard to stay away for as long as I could, but I couldn't stay away any longer. It had to happen. One way or another. And I know they knew that. Whether they wanted to or not, they couldn't be together forever. I am proof of that.

I watch him now, hearing his thoughts. He can't see me. No, I think. Not yet, he's not ready. And I'll respect that- for now.

Fate had always been so cruel to them. But this, he thinks, has got to take the cake. It's sick. Cruel. Downright disgusting. And he has to watch it all. Even now, he sees it. Looking at her now- right this very instant, he's forced to see what she's become.

He can't breath anymore, as he watches her slowly fall to the ground, he can't seem to hear anything other than heaps of sobs, and gasping of breath coming from in between her once beautiful lips. Lips that are now almost colorless, and greatly chapped from dehydration.

He can only watch helplessly as her best friend tries to comfort her, bringing her into a close hug, only to be roughly pushed away. Her cries are becoming more ear piercing, but it seems only to him. Her best friend tries once again to hold the women in her arms. This time she welcomes the little comfort she can get. Grasping onto her for dear life her cries are slightly muffled by the friends shoulder. But only slightly.

He tries to grasp onto a nearby wall, but can't seem to do it. He falls to the floor as his own sobs begin to rack his body. He begins to dry heave, not being able to stomach the hurt he caused her. It's his fault, he thinks, as he continues to heave, its all his fault.

She never asked for this. He should have stayed away. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he loved her. He's in love with her. Still, even now.

His heaves stop as he collapses to the floor. He doesn't seem to notice the people walking over him. He can still hear her cries, but they are becoming softer. He turns his head back into the direction the sobs once were. He sees his brother and her best friend carrying her out of the room, and eventually down the hallway, and out the door.

He begins to take deep breaths, trying to stand back up. He grabs the nearby bed; getting the leverage he needs and finds his way on his feet. He holds onto the railing of the bed looking down towards his feet, willing himself not to look at the person lying on the bed. But he can't not look.

Slowly, but surly his eyes gaze up the crevasses of the white sheets. His eyes slowly travel higher, to where the sheets become a wet crimson color. He has to stop for a second. Staring down at the cool color of red, then following the path of the drop to his bloodied hand. His left hand. The once silver wedding band is now just a mesh of dried blood. His stare worked its way up his bruised, scratched arm, to his shoulder. It was clearly popped out of place, due to its deformity. His eyes continued its ascent up towards his face, briefly stopping to gaze at his practically ill slit neck. Swallowing back the vomit, which seemed to surprisingly work its way up his throat, he gazed at the face.

Even behind it's scratches, bandages, and bruises, I know he can still tell it's himself. But the man he is looking at is a lot paler then he remembered himself. He looks at the rest of his body; all bandaged just like his face. The blood seems to be working its way through the gauze because his chest is practically all red.

The poor boy has been so pre-occupied, I don't think he sees the doctor come into the room, and turn off the ventilator. I hear a sudden yell in protest. I guess he did notice after all. The beeping begins to slow, and soon altogether become one annoying buzzing sound I've heard all to often. The man is now pacing and trying to get the doctors attention, but he goes unnoticed. I can tell this makes him frustrated. Once the doctor left the room, the man marches over to himself. He's fuming, I can tell. The tears are making their way out of his eyes. He begins murmuring something in which I can't quite hear. Something like, No! This can't be happening. Or something about being a selfish ass... Wait! Yes, it was the latter.

He startles me when begins hitting his body in the chest area. Over and over again. This can't be the end. No. He won't leave his family, not now. God, please not now. Slamming his fists harder onto his chest, as the tears begin to fall faster. "Breath damn it!" He calls to himself, over and over. She can't become that woman. No, he won't allow it. Not after everything they went through, fought tooth and nail for. He won't go down without a fight. He can't let her do this by herself; no she can't be that woman. He loves her too much for her to be forever known as that. But he knows; deep, deep down he knows she already is.

...She's the girl he left behind.