She loved him first.
He was her escape from this awful, awful world.
Escape.
The peaceful nights when he crept into bed with her and held her head in his arms, a temporary escape from the everlasting death that hung around. He would lightly whisper "I love you" before he would succumb to his fatigue, which left her with pleasant dreams and thoughts.
The calm afternoons where he would lead her to a little patch of dandelions, making wishes to escape the walls, and to escape to the blue, blue ocean. The floating seedlings carried through the air and parachuted up and away, she would watch his smile increase as they reached higher than the walls could ever reach.
The serene mornings how he woke her up to see the sunrise, by showering her in kisses, and when she leaned by the window, he draped a blanket over her as he gently kissed the top of her head, her cheeks matching the soft pink that washed the stars away. He left whilst she was distracted with the view, alone with her ailing.
She lets these memories replay over and over again behind her eyelids, a movie she would never stop watching even after everyone is long gone.
She remembers the time when he cried and screamed for the people she had killed. She remembers watching him crumble to the ground when he saw the bodies of people he had once talked to, people he had once bonded with. She remembers tasting bile in her throat when she smelt the salt from his tears, her shoulder becoming damp with tears. She remembers stroking his soft, soft hair and she remembers grimacing whenever she touched dried blood on golden strands.
He never once told her that she was a bad person.
But his love for her dominated the sense of betrayal he should've felt. He should've shunned her, but instead, she was his sweetest downfall, and he should never have worn his heart on his sleeve. Duty before love was all she had ever known and he had shown her why she couldn't afford to let emotions in.
"Why am I still here?"
He visits her every day, as she succumbed herself to this cocoon of her cowardice and her defeat. Why is he still there? She wants to open her eyes, but she's too scared and she doesn't want to see how much he has changed without her. She doesn't want to see the pain behind his eyes, caused by her destruction.
"They keep telling me to stop visiting you, but… I can't bring myself to do that."
She remembers hearing the cracks in his voice.
She remembers the anger in green eyes, overpowered by hatred.
She remembers the disappointment in grey eyes, overpowered by hatred.
She remembers the disbelief in blue eyes, overpowered by unconditional love.
He still loved her, but once he did… he didn't know how to stop, she was intoxicating. He wanted to stop so badly, and he just couldn't let go of her, to escape from her.
"I want to let go." He sighs, his voice cloudy. "Please? Let me go?"
She breathes heavily, because she doesn't want him to let go. Selfish.
"I love you, Annie." He humourlessly laughs and sighs heavily again. These words no longer bring her comfort and pleasant dreams and thoughts. This is the first time he has said them to her in a long, long time.
His footsteps begin to recede.
She wants to scream and to tell him to come back and to kiss her and to tell her he loves her. She wants to hold his hand and to blow on dandelions to make meaningless wishes and to live happily ever after with him by the ocean with walls. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be this bad person.
She opens her eyes too late, because he has already left her.
She screams because she knows he isn't coming back.