How darest that cat insult my friend!! "Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?" I hear myself say. I'm unaware of what else I've said, but I am sure I've said something besides, because he does turn, as if in reply.

"What wouldst thou have with me?" he inquires.

Recovering my composure and humour, I reply:
"Good King Of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives: as you shall use me hereafter, I'll dry-beat the rest of the eight!" I then proceed to press him to draw his sword and fight me.

He answers:
"Well then, I am for you!!"

My friend, Romeo, tries to tell us to stop before we start fighting, but we're both so focused on each other as adversaries, that we hardly even notice him.

"Come, sir," I pronounce, "your passado!!"

We fight.

Suddenly, the next thing I know, Romeo's trying to get between us: I block Tybalt's blows with the rapier I hold in my right hand, while grabbing Romeo by the collar and pushing him away from the fray with the other hand.

He wedges his body between us, knocking our blades aside with his arm. I stumble, and haven't time to regain my footing before I feel a sudden, sharp pain between my ribs: I look down, only to see Tybalt's sword-blade sticking out of my chest like a branch off of a tree. I hear a short, whimpering outcry: not until a few moments later do I realize it's my own.

The expression on my opponent's face as he realized what he'd done was one of sheer terror. It said: My God, what have I done? I didn't really want anyone to get hurt!

It's too late now though: I turn, stumble, fall at someone's feet. I lift my head, looking up to see who stands over me. 'Tis Benvolio, my dearest friend and the one whom I secretly love, though he thinks me to be a young man like himself, not a young woman as I truly am. But that is not to the point. I rail at my friends:

"I am hurt. A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES! I am sped… is he gone and hath NOTHING??"

" What, art thou hurt?" Benvolio asks. The dear fool can't even see that I truly am hurt: he thinks I jest!

"Aye, aye: a scratch, a scratch," I mutter, trying my hardest not to let him see that it's much more than that. But then, as a sudden, scorching pang rips through me, I continue: "Marry, 'tis enough! W- where is my page? Go villain, fetch a surgeon!"

The boy scurries off, anxious: he, at least, can see that I do not jest now.

"Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much," Romeo says to me. I laugh inwardly as he calls me "man": both of them think as such.

"No," I respond, " 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door," at this, Benvolio looks relieved, but Romeo looks more worried than ever. I finish my sentence: " but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow," I go on, " and you shall find me a grave man! A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES! Why the DEVIL came you between us," I shout at Romeo, "I was hurt under your arm!"

" I thought all for the best," he answers, and I see tears spring to his eyes.

I turn to my other friend, my dear Benvolio. The next words I speak, though directed at him, hold a pointed chill towards Romeo: "Take me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint. A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES! They've…" I trail off into a fit of coughing. As I finish coughing, I continue: "They've made… worm's meat of… me. I… have it, and… soundly too." The harshness of my own breathing becomes painfully clear as each breath fills my lungs not with air, but fire. I mumble once again: "Your… houses."

I'm standing now, supported by Benvolio. He helps me walk (or rather, stagger) across the square, towards a small building. I can't tell what it is, but it looks sort of like it may either be a stable or, with any luck at all, a tavern or an inn.

Of course, luck appears not to be with us today, so it turns out to be a stable. Once we're within the first shade of the building, I clutch at the door of the first stall in sight, trying to support myself by guiding myself along the doors. I just don't want to seem weak in his eyes. I can't keep it up for very long, though, and I fall back into his arms. He catches me carefully, wrapping one arm completely about me, under both of my own and around my waist. He fumbles with the latch on the nearest empty stall, and succeeds in getting it open just as I slip from his arms. He reaches out to me and catches my hand just before I hit the ground, pulling me back up by my wrist. He picks me up entirely off the ground, carries me into the stall, and lays me down in a pile of straw. I can barely see him anymore, for my vision is blurred with pain.

"Just hold on a little longer… Melanie," he murmurs to me.

"Y- you knew? You knew all along?"

"I've had my suspicions for a while," he answered, forcing a small half-smile.

"Then… I have one more thing to tell you, Benvolio," I whispered, grinning up at him.

"What's that, Melanie?"

I felt the last of my strength slipping away: I knew I must tell him now, or not at all. I spoke: " I love you, Benvolio," I murmured. Another fit of coughing shook me, and I was barely able to catch my breath anymore.

Then the sweet words came I'd waited nearly a lifetime to hear: "I love you too, Melanie."

His lips pressed softly against mine: this kiss, I thought, may be worth dying for. No, this love may be worth it, I thought… and then, blackness closed in around me, and there was no more pain, only a warm place filled with light and love everlasting. I do not grieve for having temporarily lost my lover, though: I know I'll see him again, someday, and then we'll spend all eternity together.