My reason for writing this: I was listening to my iPod on shuffle last night before I went to sleep, looking for a calming song, and "Run" by Snow Patrol came on. I closed my eyes and listened to the words, and the following story is what I saw in my head. I kept thinking about it all day today while I was at work, and I was itching to write it out by the time I got home.
Warnings: This story deals with darker subjects, specifically related to death. Also, an interpretation of the afterlife. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions about this matter, and I have no problem with that, so neither should you. I haven't identified the characters because I think it's more interesting to leave it open.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights or responsibilities of the characters. I give credit to Rumiko Takahashi for her creations. I do not own the rights to the song "Run" by Snow Patrol; I only own a legally downloaded copy of it.
One last thing: Please listen to the song while you read, if possible!
Run
The man gazed at the woman on the hospital bed, surrounded by machines that kept her alive. His eyes burned with tears.
No, he told himself. He urged the burning to stop. He was only successful once he turned his bright eyes away from her ashen face. He focused on the door to the bathroom that had never been used since their arrival.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be at home right now, eating dinner or sitting on the patio or something other than dying in a hospital.
But they were dying in a hospital. Her literally; him emotionally.
I'll never see the outside of this hospital again, he thought. Because she won't.
He reached out and grabbed her thin, clammy hand, careful of all the tubes sucking the life out of her. At least, that's how he saw them. The doctors said they kept her alive.
"I don't know if you can hear my voice," he said in a low tone. He adjusted his grip on her hand and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I want you to know I'll be right beside you, always."
He allowed himself to look at her face once more. He didn't want to remember her like this; pale and cold and barely alive. It was wrong, not the image of her he had always known.
Maybe it was because she had been so alive, so completely full of love and light and happiness before, that the sight of her now caused him so much pain.
Her long, dark hair now lay dull and flat around her face. Part had been shaven away to stitch up where the glass from the windshield had done its irrevocable damage, a patch of gauze covering it. Her soft, delicate features, usually alight with a smile, lay slack and her lips were tipped downward at the corners.
But the worst part was her eyes. They had always been his favorite part of her face. Dark in color, but bright. He had always wondered how dark eyes could be so full of light. His own eyes were lighter than hers, but had always seemed flat.
But now hers were covered by nearly translucent eyelids. And he may never see them again. He bent his head and bit down hard on his lip as the trembling began in his chest.
Suddenly, doctors clouded around them, gently coaxed him to the corner of the room. The scene before him moved as if in slow motion.
It took time for him to understand. He looked at a monitor, stared uncomprehendingly at the flat lines going across it. The doctors opened part of her gown and he heard someone yell "Clear!" and her torso jerked.
Robotically, he turned away, walked to the door. He stepped into the hallway, leaned against the wall beside the door, slid to the ground. He clasped his hands in front of him tightly, his wedding band digging in to his skin. He bent his head, curled in on himself, his entire body shook with the force of his sobs.
Inside the room, light flashed and danced behind translucent eyelids.
He would never forgive himself. He left her during her last breaths, right after he told her he would always be by her side. And now she was gone. And he was still here.
But he was close to fixing this.
It had been four days, but it felt like four years. He made the arrangements expected of him. He acted as normally as possible.
And then he made other arrangements, not expected of him. He refused to let their relatives stay at their home. He visited a store he had never been to before, and made a purchase. He quit his job.
The noise in his head got louder, louder. Her voice, which had been in his head several times in the past few weeks, could not be heard over the meaningless sound.
He went to her graveside, lay down flowers.
"I'll see you soon, dear," he assured her.
Cold metal.
Everything in his head gradually calmed. He looked at her picture. He smiled at her.
A finger flexed.
He woke up to bright, pure light. He saw her. Light seemed to glow from every pore of her body. She reached for him. He reached back.
They ran.