"I was laying on his bare chest. I could hear his deep, peaceful breathes. His heart beat, and it was, oh, so beautiful. He is beautiful, my Thomas, so beautiful. His heart's steady rhythm sang me to sleep that night I came home from my walk, and I shan't ever forget it. I will never forget the feeling of his pulse in his wrists against my back while his arms pulled me into him. I will never forget the way he kissed the top of my head, thankful I came home at all that night. I will never forget the way he cried after the long silence that neither of us wanted. He knew what that silence meant. The moment I had laid down against him, he knew that it was really the end of us.

"He held me that night with a feeling I'll never be able to explain. He cried himself to sleep, but I didn't shed a tear. I could not sleep though. I would not sleep. His then sporadic breathing—because of crying—did little to calm me. What if his breathing stopped? Surely mine would too. A life without Tom was a life not worth living. That is still true. I don't want to live. I want to die. I want to die so fucking bad.

“I don't believe in God, contrary to that of the majority of the United States. I do not believe I will see him again (hence the want for death). Believing in an afterlife would be pointless. Someone who believes in an afterlife will live despite their depression because they are patient. They think that eventually they will be reunited with those that they loved, but for those of us who don't believe, we don't want to live. If our loved ones are not on Earth, we don't want to be on Earth. If there is an afterlife, which I do not support the theory of, I would be glad to see my Tom, but for now, I'll settle with death. Believing in an afterlife just means being disappointed when there isn’t one. Although, those who do not believe in the afterlife would be pleasantly surprised to see one. To these people who don’t believe, either way, it is a win, and whether they die and live or just die, they will be happier.

"Life is meaningless without those that make us happy. Life is meaningless when I can't find my will to live. Life is meaningless when I have had my will stripped from me and slaughtered.

"So, let me die, and if I am to see Tom, I'll be happy. If I am to just die, I will be happy, for I will no longer have to face the world's suffering without the man who made my life worth living.

"I will never ever ev—"

I am cut off by a knock on the door. The nurse who listens to me stands up and quickly walks to open it. She gasps at the sight of the visitor, so I am immediately curious.

"Well, who is it?" I demanded.

"Give me a minute,” she replied, obviously trying to suppress some type of emotion.

I hear some frantic whispering before the nurse steps out of the room for a moment. Then the door opens again, and the nurse walks in and sits down at her usual spot. I think the visitor has left too, but then I hear someone clear their throat. There is a male standing on the other side of the room.

I know him. I know I know him. Who is he?

He approaches my bedside and places his hands on my arm. A tear rolls down his young face. "Dad..."