Disclaimer: All the characters belong to SJM. The plot is my own.
There is character death following.
Eighteen months, and she still wasn't whole.
She had spent three months next to a psychiatrist.
Two jumping jobs, on the streets, living paycheck to paycheck.
Nine living a lie, a false life, with equally false people.
One tumbling through the world one drink at a time.
Three with a man as broken as she, fighting to heal side by side.
Those last three had been the best of them. Yes, there had been fights - terrible ones, filled with yells and tears. But there had also been laughs and fun and days, oh those days, when for once the world felt good.
Until one day he left for work with a kiss on her cheek and didn't come back.
Only three people came to his funeral.
Hands trembling, she picked up her phone and dialed a number.
"Helloooo, this is Sam Cortland, leave a message!" came through to her ear. A broken sound burst out of her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as if it would stop the sob in its tracks. She was starting to forget the color of his eyes, after eighteen months. It almost hurt as much as losing him. She ended the call before the beep.
Tears splashed down onto her phone as she stared at the screen. The warmth of them (so unlike her own freezing skin) hit another caller ID.
"You have reached Rowan Whitethorn," came the gruff, pre-recorded reply. Her heart stopped for a second. She heard a laugh in the background, and could imagine the smile tugging at his face as he sat at the dining table.
"Lighten up," she heard in the background. There was a small laugh from Rowan, and then -
"If you need to reach me, leave a message at the beep," he continued in a more joyful tone. There was the smacking sound of a kiss on the cheek, and the thud of a phone being dropped, before the emotionless voice of the automatic system broke through. She listened to it wordlessly, thoughts running through her head.
The blaring tone sounded. She was tempted to hang up, but impulsively, she started talking.
"Hey Rowan," she said hoarsely. "It's me." She scratched her neck, face going red as she tried to stop the flow of the tears. "It's been two weeks since you died." Died. He'd died, and she was left. "It's been, uh, pretty rough." She laughed at that. "Rough is an understatement."
"For fifteen months I was broken as hell, and you're the only person who could put me back together." A sob broke into her words, and then another. "But without you, I'm falling apart even faster."
"I miss you, Rowan. And I know you'd never want this from me, but I can't put myself back together again."
"Maybe you'll be there on the other side. Maybe I'll never see you again." Her heart hurt at the thought.
"I love you. I'll always love you. But it'll never be enough."
She stood up, discarding the old cardigan she had stolen fro Rowan's closet months ago. She made to move forward, but then turned, and neatly folded it, placing on top a phone and a ring. She walked to the edge of the building. She could see the city lights, faintly hear the music blaring from a club two blocks down. A lone tear dripped down her cheek.
She took a step.
Aelin Ashryver Galathynius took her life last night at approximately 3:38 AM. She was found by a neighbor. Galathynius's boyfriend, Rowan Whitethorn, who also suffered with severe depression, passed away two weeks ago in a fatal car crash; Sam Cortland, her fiancé of two years, took his life a year and a half ago. She is remembered fondly by her loved ones, and is survived by her cousin Aedion Ashryver.