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Up in the sky, clouds floated by, and the sun was shining brightly sending warm rays down to the ground. Anne felt them, but it was not the same as before. Nothing was the same, it never would be. She did not understand it. Here, she was alive and he was dead. They both were there and had felt the same impact but he had gone into a coma and died 6 months later. She remembered the room they were in. The serious gloom that had set over the room. She had been asked to be present since she was his best friend.
Yet she could not fathom as to why he died and she had left the accident unscathed. They both had their seatbelts and the airbags hit them both. She remembers it like it was yesterday. She remembers everything as if it was yesterday. How could she not? They had become friends in second grade because they both were new to the school and town. It was a small town, under 50,000 people lived there. Most of the populace was either senior citizens or newly wed couples who would soon move to the big cities for jobs. She hated there now. She hated everything. Everything held a close memory in her heart. She could not resist the tears. She had let them flow all the time now. She had no reason to hold back her emotions anymore.
The funeral was a week ago. The sorrow of the town had passed. Her anger and resentment at the people had exploded only a few days ago. That was when her parents had decided to take her to a psychiatrist. They said it was so nothing bad would happen to her. They patronized her because they did not want her to feel pain. If they had wanted that, they would have killed her by now.
Anne just kept contemplating the numb cold hard heartache that climbed its way through her chest up through her throat, scratching, scraggling its way to her voicebox until she let out a scream into the black pillow that sat beside her. She just could not take it anymore. She needed him. How is it life is to go on with out him? He was her source of light and happiness. She did not even get the chance to say the words she had been practicing in her head, gaining what little courage she could to counter the fear in her. He never knew. He never will.
People tell her he has gone on to a better place or that he is in heaven looking down upon them all but Anne lost her faith the second his last breath was breathed. She just let it all go. God had let someone she cared the most about die. In front of her nonetheless. She hated him, if he did exist as the Alpha.
Eventually, the sun setted, and Anne had to get home for dinner. When she reached her front porch, she turned to see the old oak tree in her front yard. The tire swing rope was still hanging but the tire had been removed only 3 months before. Her parents had told her she was too old to have a swing. But right there on the bark was his handwriting stating, "Anne, plain and simple but so far beyond the reaches of the stars, be mine someday." He had carved that into the tree when they were only 8 years old. That was such a long time ago. It felt almost as distant as his death. One tear....the last tear she was allowed slid down her cheek. She did not bother to wipe it. She had to put on a smile, so her parents would not know anything was wrong.
Anne entered, and went into the kitchen. A yellow note was being pinned by a magnet on their big black shiny fridge. It said;
Darling,
Daddy and I are working late. There are leftovers in the fridge. It should only take about 5 minutes. I am sorry that this has happened again. We will make it up to you this weekend.
luv,
Mummy and Daddy.
Great. Anne was hoping she could talk to her dad but even he had a late night at the office. Anne opened the fridge and all her option of food was chinese take-out. Yum. It was the third time in a week this has happened to her. Anne decided to shove the container of noodles in the microwave and started to draw a plain hot steamy bath for herself. Once the five minutes were up she took the noodles out. She sat them down in front of her and said one last prayer to something in the Universe. She dug right into her noodles, they were stale and there was way too much spice. But She gradually choked it down. Once finished she went to her bath which was lukewarm by now but she did not care. She was tired. Tired of the endless days. Tired of her parents. Tired from living life. But most of all she was tired of the needle poking pain she had to live with every day and night, even in her own sleep. She did not want to be haunted anymore. She stripped off her clothes. Got her make up out. She put on the brightest red lipstick she could find and defined her lips very carefully. Next she took black eyeliner and black mascara that was not waterproof to her lids. For eye shadow she picked out her shimmering silver. She Powdered herself and applied a deep rosy rouge color to her cheeks. She then put on her pearls.
Anne looked at herself in the mirror. The last time she had worn make-up was the accident. They were on their way to their favorite restaurant. Of course they never made it. Nothing went to plan that night or thereafter. Just before she climbed into the tub, she wrote a message on the mirror. Then she turned to the tub, putting one slender leg in and the other following. She gracefully slid herself into the cool yet warm water. She took one breath and ducked under. In her mind she said good-bye. In her mind, she was ready. In her mind she counted slowly and just let the numb, dark, claws of death crawl up her feet snaking their way to her body. They kept climbing up, up, up and curled its bony claws around her neck, squeezing. One bubble seeped to the surface and then finally she felt her life float away. Finally, at peace.

Hours later, both her parents pulled into the driveway. They got out and kissed each other, happy to be home and anxious to see their daughter. They walked through the front door. Her father went to the kitchen, where the light was on but she was not there. Then he heard a scream down the hall. He ran fast and hard to his wife. And there at the bathroom door she pointed to the sillhoutte in the white porcelain tub. He looked and there before him, was his beloved daughter with mascara running, and the reddest of lips on a blue, white dead body. He shut the door, shaking his head. He took hold of his wife, comforting her. As the minutes passed, he slowly calmed her down enough to phone the police. As she went and did that, he went inside the bathroom. He looked around. He was saddened by what he saw. There on the mirror in the red lipstick, his only daughter had written;
Dearest mummy and daddy,
I am sorry I have done this to you. But I am no longer alive. I am better off in the calmness of death. The last time I felt a glimpse of life was when Ryan and I had left and just before the accident. I chose to make myself pretty for when I meet up with him, wherever it is our spirit's go. I love you. Have another child for my memory.....you deserve a happy child.
luv,
Anne, plain and simple but so far beyond the reaches of the stars, I am now his.