She was a weird old soul.
She loved superstition and went to exotic bookstores to read about magic and dreams. She tended to focus on the dreams of other souls, her own dreams and thoughts were far too terrifying for her to give life to them. She had crammed her little house with fantasy novels, science fiction, comic books, and vinyl. She had a large collection of the creepiest and most hideous things you could find in a Goodwill; but, she just called them beautiful.
I thought she was amazing, I loved every moment I spent with her. I didn't get along with most people. My sarcasm and verbose ways made some feel I was arrogant and unfeeling. She didn't think so. So, in the twisted fashion of love, my lungs treated her like oxygen, my eyes treated her like the moon, and the world treated her like a queen. My heart treated me, like a fool.
Days went by, the conversations and events are lost to time and a faulty memory. People and places came and went as time whirred past us. I lost a lot of things, but I never lost sight of her.
On a good day, I wouldn't be able to remember what I had for breakfast let alone how my day went. That was just how I lived, trotting along to some predetermined beat. However, I do remember a particular day rather vividly. The day I came home at the same time my father stumbled in. There was always something wrong, and it was always my fault.
That dreadful day, she had to do what she hated most in the world. She had to find me in the hospital, a laying lifelessly in bed.
Her crystal eyes looked down at my swollen ones. The tears made her dark brown eyes gleam brighter than stained glass in the world's grandest church. She reached for my hand. I dragged my thumb across her skin, it was soft. I waited expectantly and I watched her mull over her next words. She was usually hard to read, she kept her emotions and words in her throat. This time, I was rather shocked to see this, she had let them flood her eyes. I could see her, and I hated seeing her like this.
I avoided her eyes as she began to speak. I had my desires, I wanted her to say...
"You are not allowed to die."
Her words shocked me back to reality. She stared down into my eyes as if she was issuing a command to my soul. I started to laugh, it sounded more like a wheezing cough, I expected her to smile. This is what friends do, they say no one can die. We all know we have no control over death and who it takes. It's a lovely thought, wanting to keep your friend's heart beating forever simply out of love. I stopped laughing and looked at her searchingly. She looked to determined and fearful, which isn't the expression of someone who had just made a joke. I tried to speak but the words got lost.
She squeezed my hand tighter as she placed her other hand on my heart. The blasted thing started beating at a rather embarrassing rate at her touch.
"I forbid it."
Her voice cracked and shook as she spoke those words. She pulled her hands away. As she pushed herself away from me, her hands cradled in her chest. She looked towards the floor and swept for the door. I caught sight of her face as she fled, she seemed tired. I reached for her as I lost consciousness.
That was 200 years ago. I want to die.