It was a sad day. When they found you outside your house.
Dead.
The day their misery and hate finally killed you. The day I added you to the list. The list of the broken, the beaten, and the damned.
Every morning since I could remember, I'd take out the list, efven though I nearly had it memorized. And I'd scribble down the names from the list down on my arm. The named of the dead. The ones who had broken, before I could save them.
The names of those who has joined the parading dead.
And just like every morning, I'd take put a black pen and write the names. But this time, I added a new name.
Yours.
And then on my other arm, in all capital letters, I'd write the simple words.
YOUR MEMORY WILL CARRY ON.
They all called me crazy for this, but I didn't care. I wouldn't let the world take my heart.
One day, I'd get it all tattooed. But until then, I'd settle for the pen markings. It was my way of remebering. My way of carrying on.
I couldn't save you, darling. I couldn't save any of them. I broke the simple promise that I made to my dad all those years ago, that I'd be a savior. But I am just a human. I am no hero.
Long story short, darling, I'm sorry for failing in saving you. You're dead and gone. Just like the rest of them.
But believe me, I'll make sure your memory carries on.
