I could hear someone talking... Friar Laurence? I was starting to come around, it must have been the drug wearing off. I blinked once, twice, three times. "Friar?" I whispered.
"You've awoken, Lady. Come, we must live. Your husband is dead and so is Paris. You can leave now and come live among the nuns. Hurry, I hear a noise."
"Romeo... is dead?" I whispered. I looked around the room and saw his body, lying on the floor. He was so beautiful, even in death... my dear, dear husband. My heart skipped a beat. "I cannot leave. I must stay with my Romeo." I reached over and stoked his cheek. It was still warm. I felt tears trickling down my face, but I can't remember beginning to cry.
The friar sighed and left the crypt. I shift so I am kneeling over Romeo. "My Romeo, my sweet, sweet Romeo," I murmured. A cup lay near his hand. "Ah, poison." I stroked his face one more time and bent to kiss his lips. No poison lingered there. I picked up Romeo's dagger and held it softly. Soon, I would be with my Romeo again...
"Juliet?" a soft voice murmured. Romeo, Romeo, oh, you've come back to me! My heart thumped erratically as I looked back down at Romeo.
Nothing had changed. He was still dead. The soft voice said my name again. I looked around the crypt. Was it Tybalt's ghost come to haunt me for loving his murderer? No. It was Paris. His head was turned towards me, and his hands were held over his bleeding side. His eyes were pleading. "Help me," he begged, gasping.
I looked down at the dagger in my hand. I could just get Paris to safety, and then I could join Romeo in death. Paris's eyes followed mine and grew wide. "Don't hurt yourself," he pleaded. "Think of your family," he said, gasping. "They just lost Tybalt." I looked back down at the knife. I could have ended my pain so quickly... if I had stopped listening to Paris.
"Please, Juliet. Don't do this. You don't have to. We can work it out. We can get married, like we were supposed to. You can still be happy. I can wait until you're ready, if that's what you want." He was gasping between words. He still stared at the dagger, like focusing on it would cause me to put it down. It worked. I put the dagger down slowly and moved to Paris. I ripped off strips from the hem of my dress to press against his wound.
"You'll have to stand up yourself," I told him. "I can't lift you." I pressed the cloth against his side. He sat up, but it seemed he couldn't support himself. He collapsed onto me, his head on my shoulder. I put my arms around his neck. Holding him didn't feel that bad, really... it felt right. I could hear someone walking outside the crypt. "Help!" I called. "Paris is dying! Help us!" I stroked my fingers through his hair. It was soft, and so was his skin. His breathing was becoming ragged. "Hold on," I murmured. He smelled nice, too. Clean, almost like a woman. I don't know why I ever thought Paris was so bad. He was a little older, but he seemed nice. He might have been deluded, thinking that he was still marrying me. But, the marriage didn't seem like such a bad idea after all. I wasn't crying anymore. Maybe Romeo wasn't the right one anyway... Maybe the one for me was the handsome man that was sobbing into my shoulder.
Maybe things weren't turning out to be as bad as I had thought.