Disclaimer: No, I am not impersonating Jonathan Larson and I never will. I am merely using some of his and my ideas.

Roger. My Roger. I didn't want to leave him. Hell, I didn't want to leave any of them – not Mark, not Maureen, not Collins, not even Benny – but especially not Roger. I had to, though. It was for his own good. I knew I had to leave him and everything I knew the day before I actually left. It all began with a simple doctor's appointment about a week before.

"Ericsson, April?" the nurse asked into a crowded waiting room. I stood up nervously and followed her into a room. "You can sit here, dear," she said with a comforting smile. I sat where she said, fidgeting with my stringy red hair after she left.

I had been feeling sick for awhile before I decided to go to the doctor. Since this place, Ryder Memorial Clinic, was free, I went here for anything and everything. I figured maybe they could find out what was wrong with me. For the past two weeks or so, I had been throwing up and feeling basically like crap. I thought maybe I had the flu; it had been going around the neighborhood. Of course, since I did drugs, I wanted to make sure.

As I was sitting there waiting, the doctor came in. She too, had a warm smile, as she introduced herself as Julia Baker. She sat patiently, listening to me stating all of my health-related problems before she spoke.

"Miss Ericsson?" she began. The last person to call me Miss Ericsson was my 11th grade chem. teacher, Mr. Bugle. "I will be taking some blood samples from you right now so that we may test you for a number of diseases and illnesses." She handed me the paper.

Diabetes, coronary deficiency, tuberculosis and more were on that long list, but only one really caught my eye.

"AIDS? You think I have AIDS?"

"Well," said Julia. "Are you a regular drug user? And if you are, how do you consume your drugs?"

"Yea," I said sheepishly. "I inject it."

"AIDS can easily be spread from needle to needle between drug users" Dr. Baker explained. I was shocked. People like me didn't get AIDS. Well, maybe they did, but not me. I couldn't have AIDS. I just couldn't.

"Um, ok then" I said nervously. "When will I get my results back?"

"In about a week or so. You can just write your number here", the doctor handed me a slip of paper, where I wrote 970-4301, the number of the loft. "And we'll get back to you." I thanked her, and left.

I started throwing up more and more in the mornings. Thank GOD Roger wasn't there in the mornings. He was helping Maureen out, who had a performance to work on. I told everyone I was going to stay home. Instead, I went to The Wiz, a drugstore down the street, and bought myself a pregnancy test. Better to be safe then sorry, right.

Oh how wrong I was. I couldn't believe how much a tiny little object could ruin my life, but boy was I going to find out. It was positive.

"Damn it!" I said, angry at the world. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! This can't be happening! No!" But it was true. Inside of my fucked up body, so screwed up by drugs and alcohol and God knows what else, was a little baby. How could I tell Roger?

Before I could think anymore, the phone rang. I picked it up, in a daze, praying that it wasn't Roger. It wasn't. It was the clinic.

"Hello, is Miss. Ericsson there?" a solemn voice asked.

"This is she" I said. I had almost forgotten about the tests. I figured that since I was pregnant, that must have been why I was feeling so shitty. And maybe it was.

"Miss Ericsson," the voice began, "I am sorry to inform you that you have Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, also known as AIDS. For help in coping with this issue and to receive medication, please hold while we connect you to a counselor."

I hung up the phone instead, in shock. I did have AIDS. Shit. This was even worse than the – Oh god, the baby! My baby, our baby, was going to have AIDS too, I knew it. And Roger too. God, how could I fuck up so many people's lives in such a short time? I had to do something.

And as I was sitting on the toilet seat, I realized what I had to do. For all of our own good. I looked around for a minute, and then I saw it. A box full of razors, the kind you get for 5 bucks at The Wiz. I took one out and imagined it scraping my light skin. I had always hated my skin. Roger called it creamy, but I thought it was just awful. I had just put the razor on my skin before I remembered something. I went to the kitchen and saw a piece of paper. It was Maureen's favorite stationary, the Monopoly game lining the edge. She had told me how long she had looked for the perfect stationary. I asked her once why she spent money on stationary when she could have used it for something she actually needed. Her reply was, "April, I NEEDED this." and left it at that.

I wrote my last message to the world I was leaving behind and left it on the sink. I turned on the tub faucet, waited a bit for the water to warm, and then undressed and stepped into the bathtub.

My last thought as I left this world was of Roger. It was of the first time we kissed. It was a perfect kiss. One that you only had a couple times in your life, and that was only if you were real lucky.

My wrists didn't hurt as much as I thought they would. I was reminded of that fateful day, just a week age, at the clinic. When the nurse had taken my blood, she said it would only hurt for a second. "There," she said when she took the needle with my blood in it out of my arm. "All over".

Yes. It was over.

I came up to this place pretty quickly after my death. I don't know if its heaven or not. I don't think I deserve to be in heaven, for what I did to Roger.

Ironically enough, Roger was the first one to find my. Mark and Maureen went out to celebrate a performance well done, but Roger came home, if you can call this tiny three room loft a home. He wanted to see me, he had said, to make sure I was ok. My beautiful kind Roger. I could only watch from above as he searched for me, calling me and checking all of the rooms.

The bathroom, of course, was the last place he checked. The first thing Roger saw as he opened the door was me. I was submerged in the tub, which was a light red, due to my blood. I guess Roger had a stupid moment then, because he went, " April? Are you OK?" As he moved forward, he suddenly gasped in horror.

He pulled me out of the water, his gorgeous blue eyes looking into my lifeless blue ones. As he sobbed, holding me tightly against him, I sobbed too, sobs that I could only hear.

"Oh God," Roger whispered, tears streaming down his sunken cheeks. You see, he accompanied me on my 'excursions' to see 'The Man'. That was how I knew for sure that he had it too. If it wasn't me that did it, it was the smack. "April, why?" Then he saw my note, written on Maureen's Monopoly stationary. We've got AIDS.

At that point, Mark and Maureen entered the loft, singing gaily about parakeets and baboons. Roger called for Mark to get Maureen out, but they couldn't hear him.

"Roger?" Maureen called playfully. "Oh Roger! You won't believe what Mark and I have been - "

Maureen stopped in her tracks as she saw my limp body. "Roger! Tell me that's not April. Roger!" Roger didn't answer. He couldn't. It was me.