Chapter Eighteen

Oh, Christine.

Not much longer now, love.

One last painting, one last song, and I took to my mother's bed, our bed.

I have been here for some time now, my strength slowly dwindling, but my will to live stronger than ever before, because of you.

A bittersweet irony that I should get you, all that I've ever wanted, at the end of my life.

You sit by my side each day, struggling not to allow tears to spill down your cheek, and sometimes failing.

Your tears hurt me, make me want to cry out, "She does not want me to leave! Look at her tears, and please have mercy!" But there is no one to hear that.

You take my hand in your own and press a kiss to it.

I have already burdened you with the knowledge of what you must do when I pass. You grew paler and paler with each instruction.

Oh, Christine, you make this so hard, so so hard. For each tear you shed, I wish I had another year to live.

To think there was a time when I wished to die. . .

Death is now my most dreaded enemy, when I once thought of it as my greatest reward.

"Don't cry," I say as I notice tears streaming down your cheeks, falling on my hand. I manage to reach and brush them away. My actions only cause you to cry harder.

"Erik. . . angel. . . you can't leave!" you sob. "You can't leave me here. . ."

"Christine, I. . ." I search for something to say, and come up empty-handed.

Instead, I scoot over slightly, and pat the bed beside me.

Eagerly you climb up and snuggle against me, resting your head against my thin chest.

I wrap my arms around you, and we lay quietly.

"I love you, Christine," I whisper, my eyes sliding closed.

"I love you, Erik. . ." you manage through your tears.

I smile slightly. "Thank you. . . Thank you so much, for everything, my angel. . ."

You kiss my chest.

We lay there for an unmeasurable amount of hours, neither speaking nor stirring.

You simply lay quietly in my arms.

And I die a happy man.

A/N: We still have an epilogue to go, my lovely readers. Hope you enjoyed, as much as possible, given the circumstances, that is. Happy Thanksgiving.