The End.

Bound by Eternity

The end of the love between a mortal and immortal.

~

"Until death do us part." Our vow seemed so insignificant at the time, just another sweet nothing whispered for a love that felt boundless. It's said that the lies you reap eventually become the reality you sow. Our bond was beguiling, and in my arrogance, I forgot that unlike me, love is not eternal.

Just as perpetuity is powerless against the calculating indifference of fate, love, it seems, is not enough to conquer death. As I agonizingly watch your existence whisper its dying woes, I can't help but laugh bitterly in knowledge that the irony of an immortal being defeated by death was not lost on me.

Beep, beep...Beep... The monitor relentlessly counts down the expiration of life, then goes silent.

I can only hope that I'm hearing things. That the pair of flat lines on the monitor were but a figment of my guilty conscience, and not the inevitability of reality. But deep down, I know that sorrow's clutches have already taken root, and fate has played its winning hand. Two parallel lines can never cross paths. I knew that, yet still chose to overstep the boundaries of mortality.

The most certain of finalities, death is not the opposite of life, but rather a simple reality of living. It is an inexorable fate we must all face, for though I could never know death, losing you left me dying alive.

The room reeks of the sickly-sweet stench of bleach and rubbing alcohol. I hate it.

I loathe the unattainability of death, the inescapable constancy of life. The subject of my detestation is the object of mortal desire. Others envy me for my permanence, resent me for my triumph over time's relentless march. Yet, they remain unaware that death, the solace I so desperately desire, is the very thing they fear the most.

The grey, vinyl floor shivers, as if trying to ward off the chill of death still hanging in the air. My gaze is drawn back to the now-slumbering monitor, the harsh truth causing me to wince. I can't tell if it's the light playing tricks on me or a vision born from the stinging regret of my conscience, but for a split second, I'm convinced I see you waving goodbye, assuring me everything will be okay. That someday, somewhere, the threads of fate will weave our paths together once more.

The door clicks open. I feel warmth on my shoulder. An angel? No, it's just the nurse.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

I want to scream, to rage against the injustice brought about by this sadistic tyrant named fate. Why must love be so fleeting, and death be so final? The nurse's hand on my shoulder is a brief respite from the pain. Deep down, I know that I must leave this room and surrender the past.

But how can I let go of the one who held my heart in their hands?

I can't make sense of my emotions; sorrow, anguish, and guilt clash within me, a poignant dance of fate's retribution. I can't let go, never will until time claims me and our hands may once again intertwine. So I stand here, a broken immortal rooted to the past, forever yearning for what he can never have.

Until death do us part, and even then, my love for you will endure.