Forever by Kc Wheeler (read aloud TXT) 📕

anything... a… anything at all...” I take a deep breath. “To touch you again,” I finish in a whisper.

“You meant everything to me. You still mean everything to m... to me.” I breathe deeply a few more times. My head throbs and my sides ache.

“I'll never be happy again. Not without you.” I manage to keep my voice calm now.

I have no tears left to cry.

“I can't believe it's been two years. You said you'd never hurt me. Only days before you left you told me we'd be together for always. I thought you meant it Luke. You sounded like you meant it.” My sadness is slowly changing to anger. “If you loved me, why would you do this to me?! Why?!” I demand. “You have ruined my life. YOU HAVE RUINED MY LIFE!” I am shouting now. “You lied to me. YOU FUCKING LIED, LUKE!” My voice, while loud, is shrill and high pitched. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, LUKE!”

From somewhere deep inside another river finds its way to the surface. I cry and I cry, gasping desperately for breath as I fall to the ground, the phone still to my ear. “A… am I meant to have followed you?” I ask timidly. The thought hits me hard. A thought I've never had before. My mind is spinning. My anger is forgotten. “I didn't know Luke.” I whisper. “I didn't know.”

Until right now, following in his footsteps is not something I've considered. I saw how much it hurt people. His funeral was jam-packed. Luke had a lot of friends and a reasonably decent sized family. I've never seen so many broken hearts in one room. It was easily the saddest day of my life. After the day I found out he was gone that is. I couldn't listen to the speeches, nor could I give one myself. It was four days after they found his body and I hadn't said a word to anyone since. His parents, Sarah, and a couple of his friends kept asking me if I knew.

Did you know he planned to kill himself?

No.

Did he contact you the day he killed himself?

No. He wasn't replying to my messages.

What was the last thing he said to you?

We watched a movie together the night before. The last thing he said to me was, “Goodnight. I love you,” like he always does.

The next morning, he wasn't there.

The worst question of all: Did you know he was unhappy?

Yes. But I never knew he was this unhappy.

Except I only answered these questions in my head. I cried out loud; I screamed; I whimpered. But I didn't speak. I couldn't speak. Please, leave me alone, I wanted to say.

The last question bothers me to this day. After all, how could I not know he was so unhappy? Luke had issues, like everybody; but they never seemed serious enough to justify suicide. Luke was a deep guy. He was a romantic. He was a thinker. He was always trying to find the meaning behind everything, even when there wasn't any. Luke talked a lot about death. He always found a way to bring it up.

Why didn't I realize? I'm such an idiot.

I put down the phone. I sit there in physical and emotional agony, staring at the wall. The flowers on the wallpaper blend together into one big swirl of colours.

My new idea has given me a sense of hope I never thought possible. Can I be with Luke again after all? I smile a little at the thought of being reunited with my lover. Could I hurt other people the way he did, to complete myself? I frown as guilt over-whelms me. Would we even get to be together if I did take my life?

My mind wanders back to a conversation we once had whilst lying in bed. A conversation in which it was me who bought up the topic of death.

Just this once.

 

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think happens when we die?” I asked softly.

There was a long silence. “What do you think happens when we die?” he turned the question on me.

“I do believe there's a Heaven,” I answered. “And a Hell.”

“I didn't know you believed in God,” Luke said quietly.

I thought for a minute. “I do...” I said slowly, not completely sure of myself. “And I believe in Heaven and Hell. I guess it's just easy to believe in; and comforting too.”

Luke sniggered. “According to the Bible if you commit suicide you go to Hell.”

I never took the warning sign.

“So, what do you think happens then?” I asked again.

“I think when you die, you're simply gone. Like, when you're put to sleep for an operation. You're unaware of anything. Except this time, only your shell exists, until it rots away completely.”

I shuddered at the thought of somebody just suddenly no longer existing. It was something I couldn't get my head around. “I hope not,” I replied.

Luke said nothing.

I'm sweating. “According to the Bible if you commit suicide you go to Hell.”

Could Luke be burning for eternity in Hell? Surely such cruelty couldn't exist. I'm trembling. The idea is just too scary. I hope with all my heart Luke is in Heaven. Even simply not existing has got to be better than Hell. I bite my lip. I'm stressed out of my mind.

“I'll never be brave enough to take the chance anyway.” I mutter to myself. “So I guess I won’t find out for a very long time.” I climb into bed, continuous memories of Luke swarming my mind, shattering my already very broken heart.

Eventually, I'm all worn out. I'm exhausted. For just enough time, my mind is calm, and as the pain in my head diminishes, I fall into a light sleep.

I don't know how I got here. I'm standing on a cliff.

The cliff.

Water crashes against the sharp, jagged rocks below. All else I can hear is the wind, blowing loudly all around. The air is cold and damp. The little hairs on my arms stand up on end and I hug my body tightly, struggling to keep warm. I have no intention to go home as I am here for a reason and I am determined to follow through.

I creep closer towards the edge of the cliff and peek over the edge. It's so high up. But I feel brave.

I inch a little closer.

Loose stones tumble from the cliff face and down into the ocean below. The wind pushes hard against me, encouraging me to move forward. Just two more steps and I'm standing at the very edge.

One more step and I will fall to my death.

I take a deep breath and silently farewell this world. Just as I lift my leg, Luke's voice screams from behind me. “Stop!”

I spin around and see… Nobody. No one is there. “Luke?” I say.

“Do not jump Cara. Go home and move on. It is time to move on from me.” His voice sounds so close but he's not visible.

“But we can be together, Luke.” I insist.

His voice sounds shaky this time. “Cara, listen to me. You're going to stay alive. You're going to let me go. You're going to move on and over time my death won't hurt you very much anymore. I promise.”

“No... I can't...” I murmur.

His voice cracks. “You're going to find somebody else. You are going to love again. You'll get married; you might even have kids. You will be very happy.”

“You're the only one for me.” I answer through fresh, hot tears.

This time I wake up straight away.

The Luke in my dreams is acting like he doesn't even love me anymore. I want the real Luke. I want the Luke who will love me forever. Basically his words...

The last New Year’s Eve we spent together before he went away, it was a hot Summer night. We sat upon a hill under a sky full of stars. To top it off someone was setting off fireworks in the distance, making it a magical view.

“What do you want to do differently next year?” I wondered.

“I don't want to do anything differently next year,” he replied. “You know what? Stuff the New Year, new beginnings bullshit. I'll be very happy if next year is exactly like this year,” he spoke passionately. “I don’t get why everyone is always trying to change everything, yah know? This year with you has been amazing. YOU are amazing. There’s nothing I want to change.” He looked away shyly, then continued. “As long as I'm with you, every year until forever is bound to be amazing enough for me.”

I smiled, blushing in the darkness. Nobody had ever made me feel as special as the way Luke made me feel.

Somewhere in the distance we heard the countdown to midnight. On two I pressed my lips to his.

In my mind I felt like I needed to kiss him to seal in his words. When we pulled apart I was sure this year would be exactly like the last. Amazing.

I was so wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

Today it has been two years and three days since he left.

The pain has been so fresh the last couple of days. It's like he went away only days ago. I experienced the same freshness of emotion last year on the one-year anniversary of his death. I don't remember how long it lasted, mostly because while the pain did ease, just slightly, the pain never went away. Not for a single moment.

I'm skinnier than I should be. My face is ghastly pale, and my blonde hair falls limp. My last blood results came back lacking. My health plummeted down when he left and it's never gone back up. I have no will to look after myself. I just do what I have to do. I go to work, and occasionally I pretend to be happy in the company of Sarah, my work mates, and my parents who are constantly worrying about me.

I spend the majority of my time fantasizing.

I imagine that I wake up and Luke’s death was just a big, horrible dream. I imagine him stroking my hair and saying, “I'm not going anywhere.”

Two weeks after Luke left, I found the ring. I found it in his drawer beneath one of his t-shirts while I was crouched on the floor, fishing through his clothing in a desperate attempt to find a remainder of his scent. I was over-whelmed with a happy sadness when I found the ring. It was a strange feeling. I have not taken it off since. I like to imagine him proposing. Knowing Luke, he would have proposed in a very romantic way. I let my imagination go wild. I imagine him arranging a night-time boat ride and proposing in the middle of a large lake. I imagine us taking a holiday and him proposing under the Hawaiian stars. Then I imagine our wedding. I see him in that same navy suit he wore at my sister’s, and I'm wearing a beautiful, white dress. All of our family and friends are there. It's one of my most common fantasies. I've laid out every last detail in my mind, from the horse drawn carriages to the food on the menu; from my bridesmaids, to the seating arrangements. I'm swept away from what's real and temporarily I'm almost happy.

But when reality returns, it hits me hard and has often left me beyond devastated. Because for that short time period, I forget that he’s gone.

You take for granted the small things. The living presence of someone is not thought of until they're gone, and you would give everything you have to simply have them standing beside you. The idea of simply reaching out and touching them is no longer imaginable. It's no longer possible.

It's something you now dream of. More than winning the lotto. More than anything at all.

Our life, no matter how long or short, is all we are guaranteed to have. When you lose someone to death, they are something you're now guaranteed to not have. Never again. Not in