It felt like my chest was empty. The heart that held so many scars finally had fallen to pieces and could not beat blood into my body.
I felt cold; my hands trembled as I struggled to enter the deserted tomb, out of fear, the fear of loss and the tragedy of love.
The door came creaking open and I spotted what I was trying to make it to. A dais in the very back of the musty burial site. A place lit with candles meant for a celebration that never came, a plan never fulfilled. My feet decided to pick themselves up and I made it over to the site freshly strewn in petals quicker than I had thought possible, pushed on by a minute hope.
There she was, hair gently brushed and set to her sides, shining in the candle light. A face as untouched by death as if she really was alive, but as surely as I felt the last of my hope crumble and my chest newly tighten with loneliness and loss I had been dreading, she was dead.
I touched her marvelous face and felt the warmth run over my hands like a sun heated river. Her hair cascaded down my fingers and ran smooth, every time I had kissed her my hands had buried themselves there in the tresses so neatly kept up that they new the area well.
My hands wandered down the sides I had touched so intimately once upon a time and my eyes traced her body that lay so still and unmoving even as I saw my hands touch the spot she always laughed about. The one spot that got a smile out of her, even on a bad day.
She truly was dead. Hope once again was stabbed and ran out of me. I reached into my pocket slowly, eyes never leaving the angelic face before me, and withdrew a tiny vial that had an almost clear liquid in it and at the same time ripped the necklace from my neck that sported a tiny gold ring.
I set the ring, my eternal promise to her on her finger and leaned down next to her whispering in her ear my worries, fears, how beautiful I thought she was, and how much I loved her and drank the god forsaken poison.
Her brown eyes fluttered open.
My heart met the potion and my body began to give out.
Surely we were a pair of star-crossed lovers.
My eyelids tried to lift the brick wall in front of my vision as I tried to wake up knowing my love was there hearing all her exclamations of love and all the problems she had faced in her life and all the things she was worried and afraid about now.
My vision at first came blurry but when they completely opened they met a pair of pain lit blue hues. A bottle raised to a rosy mouth and hair askew atop her lifted head. As I watched, still unable to move my arms and legs, her knees buckled beneath her and she hit the floor scattering petals and flickering the candles.
My body was regaining control as my mind connecting the pieces of the puzzle. It was a poison and at that moment my hands reached down and picked up the weeping girl.
She didn't look young for she was quite a bit older than myself, but I had fallen madly in love with the person who had been my enemy since birth. Her smiles had warmed my heart and her arguments had challenged my wit. I loved every bit of the tomboy that was so unfashionable at the time.
The blonde hair, cut short, laid over my arm tangled from what I expect was a mad dash to the site only to struggle at the door.
Her body convulsed as I held it tighter by the second due to the reducing effects of the debilitating drug and her gaze bore into me with sorrow and regret at dieing so soon with the happiness of seeing me alive before then. Tears leaked from her eyes and stained my death crypt with neat circles.
Her rougher hand held in mine, her face went still as the last tear dropped from her eye.
Wracked with grief, for the first time I noticed the gun next to me, my weapon of choice. The reason why I met her, my world would end with the thing I felt most at home with.
I lifted the beautiful thing to my head, cocked it, and for the first time in military history, shot a desert eagle with one hand.