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“She seemed happy. I didn’t overthink the fact that she didn’t sleep well, wasn’t exactly open, and would always say yes to me; I thought it was anxiety from being in a relationship. I, too, experienced something similar; it was just a part of being a teenager for me. I was such an idiot. I wish I thought about her more.
There was a day when I had a biology presentation; my phone received a message from her, but I was too stressed and knew she’d understand if I didn’t check my phone. I eventually finished, deciding to check her message before going to sleep; I’m in the hospital, I love you, it said. I felt my perceptions shatter as I picked myself up and ran to the hospital. I didn’t know what room she was in, but demanded to see her. Her nurse explained to me that she had been assaulted by her mother. I felt a wave of relief knowing this injury wasn’t fatal as my heart suddenly shattered– the nurse told me she had leukemia. That her body was too weak to survive.
Those wrestling practices she told me about? They were a lie. A mere compensation for abuse. When she said she would always stay 17? She knew she would die. She just didn’t want to hurt me. I cursed myself as I broke open the hospital door. There she was; strapped to several IVS, pale but bruised, a breathing mask over her face. It wasn’t fair; with leukemia, she was already living with death. She was never meant to leave this way.
I felt so much hate towards myself, I didn’t think to blame her parents for years after her death. I felt as if I could have prevented it; but that wasn’t my job. It was her parents’ job to protect her, and they didn’t. Instead, they hurt her, and it was years of grief and emotional turmoil I experienced until the acceptance that— her parents were the villians. It wasn’t my job to help her survive, it was theirs, and such a failure compensated for their deaths. In fact, I’m glad they died.
Though through my sorrow, I shoved past the doctors and ran up to her. Her hand was in mine, though it was too late; I could see that her skin had lost color. My throat welled up as I felt our worlds cracking. Reality awakened me; there was a sandy texture in her hands. As I looked down, I saw a crumpled up piece of paper— it wrote:
I will always be with you.”
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