"You know, maybe we should kill ourselves." I say quietly, resting my head on his shoulder. "It'd be a lot easier that way."

I'm flung upward as he sits up, the covers of the bed now piled on our waists. He looks at me, and the bewildered face he makes is unbearable, so I look away and busy my eyes on the bare, grimy white walls littered with holes. I'm not even sure you could call them white anymore.

"Don't say that." He says pointedly, as if that was the final word. "Don't you ever say that, it's not right."

"I don't know… I guess… I guess. Forget I said anything." I ripped the blankets off my legs and swung them off the bed, desperate to leave the conversation. As I stand up, I feel his hand wrap around my wrists. "Let go." I whisper.

"No."

I pull violently, trying to slip from his grasp, but he was stronger than me. He'd always been stronger. He grabbed my other wrist and I thrashed harder. Suddenly tears were streaming down my face and I kicked. "Just let go." I choke between sobs.

"Look at me." He says. I can hear strain in his voice. "LOOK AT ME."

I was shocked that he yelled. He had never yelled at me, only at the people who told us our love was wrong on the streets, no matter how many times I had told him to ignore them.

His hand wrapped around me chin, forcing me to face him. I could barely see his cotton tank top, the same grimy white as the walls. "No, look me in the eyes."

I couldn't bear to look him there, so I closed my eyes instead, tears still streaming down.

"LOOK AT ME DAMMIT."

And suddenly he's on top of me, my arms pinned over my head on the pillows. I looked up at his shadowy, smeared figure and sobbed.

"Don't you get it? We're lost- a hopeless case. It's not gonna get better. There's nothing left to do about it anymore and even if there was I wouldn't have the strength to fight it. There might still be air in my lungs and spit in my mouth but there's no bounce to my step or light in my eyes. I'm dead already, inside and out and there's nothing that's gonna change that anymore. And I know you're in a similar state." I finish. "We should just go."

He's quiet for awhile and I'm stuck with my sobs. Snots running out my nose and the pillow was soaked.

"No. No. No." He says it repeatedly like a madman, each time getting louder. "No. No. NO. NO. NO! NO!

"DON'T YOU GET IT? THAT'S NOT AN OPTION FOR US AND IT CERTAINLY ISN'T FOR YOU. WE'RE NOT JUST GOING TO GIVE UP BECAUSE SUDDENLY YOU'RE READY TO. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DO THIS TO YOURSELF AND YOU CERTAINLY AREN'T GOING TO DO THIS TO ME." He broke off as his voice broke.

"We've just got to hang on a little longer. It's got to be better, I promise."

***********************************

"You know, maybe we should kill ourselves." I heard a whisper beside me. "It'd be a lot easier that way."

What did he just say?

I sat up quickly, startled and turned to look at him. He's staring off at the walls. How come he won't look at me?

"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that, it's not right." And I meant it, I didn't want him to ever think that way.

"I don't know… I guess… I guess. Forget I said anything." He tried to leave the bed, but I wasn't through yet. People didn't just say they wanted to kill themselves for no reason. I reached over and took ahold of his wrist. "Let go."

"No." I didn't want him to leave.

He started trying to slip his wrist away, but I wasn't going to let him. His wrist was so thin and small my finger touched each other when they wrapped around it. I grabbed his other one, desperate to make him look at me. Didn't he see I needed him to?

This only seemed to encourage him. He started thrashing harder than before and before I knew it he was crying.

"Just let go." He choked.

"Look at me." I say, trying not to break down. I needed to stay strong- not just for me but for him, too. I hoped he hadn't heard it. "LOOK AT ME."

His eyelids opened, revealing his shiny, brown eyes I always craved to look into. He wasn't looking at me though, rather at my chest. I had the sense that I startled him. "No, look me in the eyes."

He closed his eyes. I could barely see the tear stains on his face shine in the dim lighting. I needed him to look at me. I needed him to.

"LOOK AT ME DAMMIT."

I pushed him down onto the bed and pinned his arms above him. I looked down at him to see his eyes were open.

"Don't you get it? We're lost- a hopeless case. It's not gonna get better. There's nothing left to do about it anymore and even if there was I wouldn't have the strength to fight it. There might still be air in my lungs and spit in my mouth but there's no bounce to my step or light in my eyes. I'm dead already, inside and out and there's nothing that's gonna change that anymore. And I know you're in a similar state." He paused. We should just go."

Why was he saying things like this? Why was I not enough to keep him wanting to live? He's got to be lying- this's got to be a dream. I had to be… it had to be…

"No. No. No." I meant to say it in my head but the look on his face told me I had done otherwise. "No. No. NO. NO. NO! NO!

"DON'T YOU GET IT? THAT'S NOT AN OPTION FOR US AND IT CERTAINLY ISN'T FOR YOU. WE'RE NOT JUST GOING TO GIVE UP BECAUSE SUDDENLY YOU'RE READY TO. YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DO THIS TO YOURSELF AND YOU CERTAINLY AREN'T GOING TO DO THIS TO ME." He couldn't do this… could he? The thought of losing him made my voice break so I stopped yelling. I had more to say, so much more, but I couldn't get my mouth to voice it.

I settled for a simple phrase instead.

"We've just got to hang on a little longer. It's got to be better, I promise."

It had to…

Hadn't it?

Marewyn Wanderer

I'm slammed to the ground, my axe just inches away from my hand. I struggle fiercely, all my Irish blood pounding through my veins and fire in my heart. "Get off me!"

The assaulter laughs, the sound like a magic flute. "Of course not, amata! I have tried to capture you for so long, Mare, I cannot just let go now!"

I stop struggling and look into her eyes. "Felicia Anastasia Abandonato." She's Italian. A happy resurrection, forsaken.

Felicia tilts her head innocently, a smile on her face. "Si, cara?"

"GET THE FRICK OFF ME!" I heave upwards, hard, and Felicia lands with an "oomph" on the ground. I'm panting, but I have a sense of victory.

"You're supposed to be dead!" I hiss, grabbing my axe off the ground and pointing it at her. "Dead people are supposed to stay dead! I don't want you in my life!"

The moment those words come out of my mouth, I regret them.

A look of hurt and sadness comes over Felicia's face. "Marewyn Wanderer. Listen. I can't stay dead. I'm supposed to be an angel that watches over you." She raises her honey eyes to meet mine. "Mi dispiace. I'm sorry. I couldn't watch over you enough so that your leg wouldn't have gotten severed, so your wolf wouldn't have died."

I blink. Wasn't expecting an apology. "Um...well.." What am I supposed to say to her? Thanks? It was alright? Because it WASN'T alright. I want my leg back, not a wooden one. I want Wulfram back.

"I'm sorry that you're sorry" comes out of my mouth. I flinch at my own words. "I don't know what to do." I glare at her, raising my axe again. "Never tackle me like that again. I'll kill you next time."

Felicia starts walking backwards, tears in her eyes. "I-I'll go now-" she whispers and flees into the forest.

I drop my axe to the ground, myself following its path down to the earth. My long red hair is tangled with leaves and dirt, but I don't care. I sit, legs crossed, and start to sob.

The only person I've ever loved is gone now.

And I doubt she'll ever return.

*******************************************************************************

Felicia Abandonato

I pounce on Marewyn and slam her to the ground, sitting on top of her stomach and giggling.

Marewyn shrieks, "GET OFF ME!"

I laugh. "Of course not, amata! I have tried to capture you for so long, Mare, I cannot just let go now!"

She stops struggling and looks into my eyes. "Felicia Anastasia Abandonato." My full name brings back memories. A happy resurrection, forsaken.

I tilt my head innocently, a smile on my face to hide the sadness. "Si, cara?"

"GET THE FRICK OFF ME!" She heaves upwards, hard, and I land with an "oomph" on the ground. I hurriedly get up, my eyes wide.

"You're supposed to be dead!" she hisses, grabbing her axe off the ground and pointing it at me. I shy away from the sharp blade. "Dead people are supposed to stay dead! I don't want you in my life!"

I gasp, clutching my heart. A look of hurt and sadness comes over my face. "Marewyn Wanderer. Listen." I say breathily. "I can't stay dead. I'm supposed to be an angel that watches over you." I raise my eyes to meet hers. "Mi dispiace. I'm sorry." My voice breaks, but I force myself to go on. "I couldn't watch over you so that your leg wouldn't have gotten severed, so your wolf wouldn't have died." I say. In a lower tone, to myself, I whisper, "I failed."

Marewyn blinks. She probably wasn't expecting an apology. "Um...well.."

I look at her, hope in my eyes.

"I'm sorry that you're sorry" comes out of her mouth.

I blink.

"I don't know what to do," she half-whispers.

Then she glares at me, raising her axe again. "Never tackle me like that again. I'll kill you next time."

A hole opens in my chest.

She hates me.

I start walking backwards, tears threatening to form in my golden eyes. "I-I'll go now-" I whisper. I turn around and flee into the forest, not caring if I got attacked or something.

If I died and stayed dead, Marewyn would be happy, right?

Deep into the forest, I stop, panting.

I've left the only person I've ever truly loved.

And I doubt I'll ever return.

"You're so strong," I heard him say and I look up to see he's genuinely speaking.i gulped down the lump in my throat as hung my head low not wanting to answer to his accusation so he continued. "You're the strongest most beautiful and talented person I've ever met, the way you speak it intrigues me; have you ever considered writing?" I looked up then and nodded the only thing I could do in that moment. It's like he wanted to persuade me into doing something so her continued speaking. "You're so great at using proper English and you speak so well why don't you write like a book or something", to that I smile and said I did think about it sometimes.

.........................................................

Why in hell is he being so nice, why can't he see me for who I am, I'm a broken puzzle, all my pieces are scattered about its like I'm on a treasure hunt in finding my own life. The funny thing people always see me as this beautiful strong person but deep down I know it's just a cover story; one I lead them into believing anyway.

My life is anything but easy or great and as I sat there looking into his eyes I wanted to cry and tell him how weak and fragile I truly am, how I cry ever so often and loose myself at times drinking too much or even trying to smoke just to numb the pain.

Of course I've considered writing a book in fact my life is like a novel taking on different stages as would a chapter. I couldn't write to feed myself I'm no good with words, I get tongue tied easily and I'm too shy to even speak to him now. How in hell could I become an author.

The truth is sometimes you can't give people the satisfaction of knowing the true you or even a mere picture of the struggles you face in an attempt to dogs he pity or sympathy. People tend to see the best in people but the truth is it's only you who can truly share the pain.