Gabriella's POV
Off the chain
The wind was softly moving the blades of grass. I was looking up to heaven, watching the clouds that were passing by. Where they'd be flying?
Sometimes I wished I could be a cloud. So slightly, so light-hearted, so free.
His hand was holding mine, and I when I slowly turned my head I noticed he'd been starring at me all the time.
He was smiling.
For some time, I was just looking at him, I didn't say a word.
"Thank you!", I whispered then. Because he was with me.
It was fall. The leaves hadn't been green for a while now. They were sparkling in all different colors. Red. Yellow. Orange. Brown. It wasn't much time left till wind would rip them of the trees and they'd fall to dust.
I was standing in front of the window, looking out of it. How long would I be able to do that, how often would I even do this?
About 100 meters away there was the forest where I had played so often when I'd been a little girl. In the Neighbour's house, the baby was screaming. The little one was already six minths old. I'd seen him only once. He was cute, as long as a baby could be called cute when it's only sreaming and sleeping.
Children were born, other people died.
I could feel him standing behind me and I didn't know why I was sad about this fact. Actually, I should be happy because he was still with me.
"Can you promise me something?"I asked lightly and he put his hand onto my shoulder, pushed them slightly. Maybe it was supposed to mean he was there, he'd always be there for me. I really should be happy and I really was happy, because I was lucky, as he was always standing by my side, wlking this lond way together with me.
"Anything!", he answered and I knew, he really meant what he said, he was serious about it.
I leaned at his chest, I closed my eyes. I only saw black, only blackness.
What would we see after we died? Were you even able to see something?
"I want 'Blackbirds' by the Beatled to be played!", my voice was hars, lightly, itchy. "At my funeral."
I' was eightteen when they told me that I was ill, very ill. I had eukemia. It was followed by chemo-therapies, I stayed in hospital for months. Someday I meet him. He was there for me when anyone else wasn't. He was there for me, despite of my illness and he could understand me, he understood I was afraid, afraid of death. He'd been the last gift that god gave me before I'd die. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, in my whole life. He brought me luck, made me happy.
Eight weeks ago, I stopped doing the last therapy. There wasn't any hope at all, it was just adding some time to my lifetime, just slowing down death. I'd rather die now, immediately, because during the therapy, I was feeling bad, every day. Every single day, I wished to be outside of the building, I wished I was a normal girl with a normal life. A girl with hairs, because I lost all of them. I wanted to be buried with hairs.
I wanted to die at home.
Winter couldn't be more beautiful. Snowaflakes were dancing in front of the window, little crystals that were sparkling in the sunlight. Ice crystals. Christmas.
I hadn't wished anything. I didn't want anything. "I won't be able to do anything with it when I'm dead!", I'd said and strangely everybody did what I said.
Only Christmans cards had been sent to me and so in the evening, we were sitting ahead of the christmas tree. He was decorated with christmas balls that had every possible color, on the top of it, there was stuck a little star. Next to us, there were lying christmas cards, some of them opened, some of them unread.
There was only one gift I wanted, I was the only person to give me this gift.
"I want to die in summer!", I told him and he pulled me closer.
Winter was cold, bleak, white. Summer was full of colors, full of life.
I wanted to die alive.
The light was breaking in the little star, the room was sparkling mysterously.
There were so many things I'd never be able to do. The word 'never' had become a heavy part of my life, it was haning above me all the time.
I'd never have kids, never found a own family. I'd never marry, never be able to sit in front of a couple of great-childs with 96 years and tell them of unforgettable moments in my life, moments, as they'd never happen to me, not in my life.
Another song on my list.
'Everybody hurts', R.E.M.
There was still lying snow outside. The houses were kept worm with fire, smoke came out of the chimneys. It was cold outside, icicles were hangingd own of all ropfs around.
Kids were laughing, having fun, joking around in the snow.
When I was little, my brothers has used to build an igloo for me, ab big, beautiful one, where I could hide. They'd been too big for it, they hadn't been able to get into it.
When I was nine, a boy rolled over my arm while we were tobogganing. I was allowed to run around wih a plaster in different colors. Green. Orange. Yellow. Blue.
When I was thirteen, I'd broken my leg. It had'n been a beautiful christmas that year, not at all.
And now I was dying. Slowly. Watched my body, while it was ruining itself. Part by partm slowly.
I'd never liked winter. Another 'never'.
I could hear the door, only seconds later he entered the room, without shoes, wearing black socks.
"Damn cold outside!", he said and put down his worm jacket, got out of his wet socks.
He sat down next to me on the sofa, I immediately felt happy again, as always when he was near me, because he was near me, still there for me. Together, we watched the end of the movie I'd been watching before.
I wanted to have a white coffinand a white grave stone. And thousands of white roses on it.
How many people die every year? How many leave this world too soon? Because the aren't carefully, because they absolutely needed to feel the buzz, because they had bad luck.
Car accidents. Drivers, driving too fast. Drunk drivers. Smoothness. It's uncountable, how many innoncent people lost their lives in their cars, it's always them that die, never the ones that caused the accident.
Wars. Somebody is always going to be fighting. How many people are throwing their lives away, how many uninvolbed people are hit? So many wars are going to be fought after I left this world, but there are so many people that will follow me.
Booze. Drugs. Pills. Suicide. People who are done with life, people who chose death.
I didn't chose death, I never had a choice. But I was still dying.
I was dying, a little more with every day that passed. I was sleeping nearly all day, I didn't eat much. I smelt like a pig, and I didn't have the strenght to talk anymore.
I had fought, with alle the power that had been left after all these years. It was June, I knew that, but that was it, all I knew.
Days, nights, hours and minutes didn't count anymore, they were mixed up without any borders.
I'd lost all feeling for time.
Weird sounds were leaving my lungs, I couldn't move, there was no power left to try.
"Three days!", I heard him say and I felt his hand on my forehead. "Then summer begins officially."
3 day. 72 hours.
I wouldn't do it, not that long.
From the beginning of my life, from the moment of my birth, everything leaded to this moment.
It took me so long to learn to walk, learn to speak. I joked around with my brothers. I went to school. Almost ten years. For ten years I'd been taught, but I won't ever use the things I know now. Ten years I'd thrown away. I fell in lve and my heart got broken. He cured it, gave me hope whenever I was about to give up. I learnt how to fight, but only to give up in the end.
Every always leaded to this moment.
"I'm with you!"
Death.
The wind was softly moving the blades of grass. I was looking up to heaven, watching the clouds that were passing by. Where they'd be flying?
Sometimes I wished I could be a cloud. So slightly, so light-hearted, so free.
His hand was holding mine, and I when I slowly turned my head I noticed he'd been starring at me all the time.
He was smiling.
For some time, I was just looking at him, I didn't say a word.
"Thank you!", I whispered then. Because he was with me.
