A Dying Girl's List

Epilogue

Slumping in her room at this moment, feels surreal, knowing she won't be coming back here again, was heartbreaking. Her room was spotless, not a single thing misplaced... The dull dresser depressed him even further. Her parents had cleaned up pretty well. It looked as if no one had ever inhabited the room. Ever. The memories of this room, raged through his thoughts like a wildfire. Destroying his sanity and mentality with every memory it burnt.

In his black tux — the one he wore when he took her to prom — he walked around the room, his middle finger trailing behind him on every piece of furniture in there, and his nose pressed to a piece of clothing he found, her smell still lingering on it.
His eyes teared up at everything that reminded him of her. She hasn't even been under the ground for more than two hours and he was already missing her. Wishing she was here with him, instead of beside Steph.

Why was she buried beside Steph?

Because of a note, Jace saw on her bedside table in the hospital room the day she died — that was about two weeks ago. She had asked Lisbeth to write it out for her. She had clearly stated that she wanted to be buried beside her best friend, or she'd haunt him for life.

Classic Lissa. Always finding ways to make jokes during a serious situation.

And now that one of her wishes was fulfilled, Jace was here to fulfill the other one. The box request. That was the only reason he was back here in this room. He'd much rather not be anywhere close to her room. It's too soon. Feeling's still too raw. But he was curious to see what the box request was about. He bent down and dragged the shoebox out.

He sat crossed legs on the floor, opened the box, put the lid beside him, and stared at the contents. All the Polaroids they had taken from day one until before he left, stuffed in the box. A short story she wrote about a boy who lost his love, and a bunch of other trinkets she pawned off on him. A few sticky notes with letters written on them as well.

The handprints in the windowsill are yours. That way you'll always be holding my hand. Xoxo, Lissa.

The Eiffel Tower is also yours. Just a tiny reminder of the greatest day of my life. The day I got to "travel the world" with you. Xoxo, Lissa.

The short story, you should frame. Even though it's about a boy who lost his love. Just know, you never lost yours. Xoxo, Lissa.

Just by reading those notes, his heart swelled with hurt. He took out the Polaroids one by one. A tear dropped each time a new memory would surface.

The time with the balloons...

The secret place...

Horseback riding...

Mini-golf...

Movie nights...

The concert...

His first exhibition...

Everything was overwhelming. The rapid overtake of emotions was not something he could handle today. He was about to close the box again when he noticed a flash drive taped to the bottom of the lid with another sticky note attached.

Watch this. Xoxo, Lissa.

He stuck the USB into the port behind the TV that was mounted to the wall and searched her drawers for the remote. He sat back down on the floor, half-circled by all ninety-nine Polaroids, and pressed play.

The video started black, but then Lissa's face popped up and he felt a grin spread to his face.

“Hey, Jace.” She waved excitedly to the camera. Jace waved back, then stopped instantly when he realized how stupid he looked. He noticed how pale her skin was, and how her sparkling blue orbs, barely shone with excitement, as they did before. Her smile didn't reach her eyes like it did the first time he met her... She didn't look like Lissa anymore. And that was the sad truth he realized too late.