AN: As mentioned in the sister one-shot to this one, I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the planet. Having a baby will do that to you. This piece is meant to be read after "Hell is Him," so go read that one first. As always, reviews are always welcome. WARNING: Language and character death.
He was Heaven
My tears hit his headstone. He did always say I cried too much. This wasn't the sobbing type of cry he hated, though. My tears weren't the anguished cries of someone whose lover passed unexpectedly.
No.
My crying was silent. The quiet, regretful tears of someone who wasn't surprised by their lover's death because…well…because they caused it.
This was my fault.
He died because of me.
I killed the only piece of heaven in my pathetic life.
Sure, I didn't tell him to go drive his car off a cliff during a snowstorm, but I didn't stop him either. In fact, if it wasn't for me being a stupid, selfish, son-of-a-bitch who only knows how to think with his dick, I wouldn't be standing in a cemetery and he wouldn't be six feet under the ground. We'd probably be bundled up at home, getting drunk, and watching some sappy movie I begged him to watch. We'd top the night off with some sex and fall asleep in each other's arms.
We'd be happy.
But we're not. He's dead and I'm getting hypothermia crying on his grave.
A violent wind pushes the snow gathered on the tree above me onto my blond head. I lift my head to the sky and scream at the top of my lungs, not because of the snow, but because this wasn't how my life was supposed to end up. I was supposed to be happy, successful, and excited about each new day. Instead, I was lonely, angry, broke, and all the fire in my life died with him.
I had no one to blame but myself.
Flames suddenly coursed through my veins. In a fit of blind rage, I stalk back to my car and pop the trunk. Minutes later, I found myself in the tree above his grave, a noose around my neck. The cold suddenly returns to my body and I realize what it feels like to be dead on the inside. I cast my eyes downward towards his grave, fresh tears pool in my eyes.
Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get to be with him. I wouldn't deserve it, though.
He was heaven and I've never been, and never will be, good enough for him.
The icy wind carries away my whispered apology,
"I'm sorry."
I jump.
