“We always said we’d follow each other to our graves”. This pact was made back when I was a small child, my sister just three years older than me as we sat in the pillow fort, hearing the eerie line in a horror movie. We promised it to each other, believing it meant we would always be close, the concept of death just a whisper in the wind to us, a fleeting idea that never plagued us being so innocent. Of course, it was confusing, but it was the least of our worries as the mind of a child is easily distracted.
“I’ll see you later, Gwen, I’m going to work,” were the last words Alice said to me, unbeknownst to her what work would hold for her. I told her not to take the night shift, I told her everything about it was dangerous, and it would be difficult for me to see her. However, my opinion was disregarded, Alice being a struggling college student who needed whatever money she could get, not only working at a hotel as a maid but also writing in her free time, her dream of being an author pushing her to be as productive as possible in the hopes that her hard work would pay off, that once she graduated she could devote her time to her current work and publish it.
She tried so hard, and here I sit, writing in the corner of my room in a small book I’ll probably throw away, my only skills in writing coming from her reading to me all her poems and the latest chapter of her book. Here I sit, writing about the person I looked up to most in a heap of tears. Her blue eyes haunt me tonight, and the sirens won’t let me sleep, only they aren’t from the ambulance but rather my own alarming thoughts. I feel angry, betrayed, and alone. If every day were just as heavy, would the memory of her weigh as much as it does right now? Would it one day disappear and be nothing but a trauma of my past, something I can brush off in the heat of the moment? I can only write so much before my hands breaks of the pain in my wrist, so I’ll end this now.
Here’s to one day of a universe without my favorite girl.