Frozen in the past

Each sunrise was a reminder that Rose would never see another, and I was left to bear the weight of her absence. The world woke up, but I remained trapped in the night of my grief. Because fate, as it so often does, chose a different path for us.

One sun-drenched day, with the wind caressing our faces, we went on a bike ride. I pedaled ahead, my heart dancing with happiness when suddenly the world twisted into chaos. Screeching tires shattered the jouful melody of our ride, and I turned too late. Everything happened too fast, too sudden, like a nightmare. But the only difference is that nightmares aren't real.

"Rose!" I cried, but she had already pushed me aside. Her sacrifice was etched in slow motion as the car's impact crashed her.

Guilt, like a relentless storm, sweeps me away. I accused myself. Why hadn't I seen the car? Why hadn't I protected her as she protected me?

I wish I could say it all happened too quickly, or that it was all a blur, but it wasn't. Each second felt like a year, and everything was clearer than ever. The blood coming from her was a dark red color, and her face showed her pain. I could hear her moaning, and her desperate cries were ringing in my ears.

I was the one who should have been dead, right? Why am I living? I don't deserve it.In the days that followed, I became a ghost of my former self. The world lost its color, and even laughter felt hollow. I withdrew from everyone, even my family. Without her, my life wouldn't make sense. I couldn't accept the fact that she wasn't alive. What about our dreams together? They couldn't be lost. She couldn't be lost.

Desperate to help me, my parents took me to a psychologist. Dr. Mitchell. With patience and understanding, urged me to talk about what had happened.

"Maya," Dr. Mitchell began softly, "I can't imagine the pain you're going through. But you need to talk about your feelings, to let them out."

My voice trembled as I tried to find words. "It's my fault..." But after that nothing was continuing.

Dr. Mitchell's eyes were filled with empathy, and she reached out to hold my hand. "But you can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Rose's sacrifice was an act of love, not your fault."

"But I can't live with this guilt," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "If Rose can't come back, then I will go to see her." Her memory was a puzzle with missing pieces, and I spent my days trying to fit them together, even though I knew the picture would never be complete.

"She lives on in your heart, and by living, you keep her spirit alive," Dr. Mitchell said the same things my parents had expressed. Different person, same lie. Different hands, same empty air.

"But it doesn't change the fact that it wasn't my fault..." I said same things again.

Then, the doctor prescribed pills for me to take in order to calm my nerves. However, even this won't change the fact that it was my fault. Nothing will.

On the darkest night, I went to the bathroom feeling terrible. I held pills in my shaky hand, crying as I thought about swallowing them to make the guilt go away. They were meant to help me, but I wanted to use them to end my life. Who knows? Maybe they'll actually help me.

 "Don't worry, Rose. I'll join you soon," I said quietly, trying to feel better, even though it didn't help much.

 I swallowed the pills. After a few minutes, everything went blurry, and I fell to the cold bathroom floor, surrounded by darkness.

When I woke up, I was in a bright hospital room, which felt very different from how I felt inside. I felt scared and called out for Rose without thinking. To my surprise, she was sitting next to my bed.

"You're here!" I whispered, wondering if I was dead.

Rose smiled sadly and said, "Maya, I've never left you. But you need to understand that I'm no longer going to be here with you. You need to move on."

Her words hit me hard. Maybe that was the moment I truly accepted that she was gone. She was gone. But I was still alive. It didn't seem fair.

"Can I hug you one last time?" I asked while crying.

"I'm not real," she said gently.

"I don't care."

My heart ached as the doctor entered the room. Then I didn't see Rose again. She just disappeared. I couldn't hug her one last time. Even if she was an illusion.We spoke of the pills, of the illusions, and the doctor suggested I needed to move forward."You must live for Rose," the doctor suggested. "She died for you, and you need to live for her."