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THERE WAS SO much blood, and it made him feel so lightheaded seeing it everywhere. The pain was numbing as the adrenaline rushed through his veins. It happened so fast, and when he turned to look at you, it was mortifying.
You were gone, it felt so surreal, even as grief consumed him, pulling him into this dark abyss. It was a bad accident, and it wasn't his fault, people would tell him. But the more he thought about how he was still breathing and you weren't, he just couldn't believe it.
Christian missed you so much, and he hates how death ripped you away from his grasp. He could barely sit during trial, being in the same room as the woman who took you away. It's classified as a car accident but he knew better. She had risked your life, drinking and driving, and where did that get any of us? Nowhere.
"But maybe if it was me and not her—" Christian cries out to himself, breaking down in sobs. They had to cremate you because there wasn't much left to see, it was too cruel to have an open casket funeral.
Life was cruel. Christian just wanted to go back to when the both of you would head to the nearest fast food joint, late at night, smoking and talking the night away. But instead, fate decided this chapter of pure joy in his life was coming to an end, the chapter concluding the day you died.
"Christian." A familiar masculine voice calls out to him. He turns around to the face of your father, who seemed mournful and filled of grim. I mean, who wouldn't if they just lost their only daughter?
"Yes sir?" Christian questions, his face still red from the crying, and his voice softer and raspier than usual.
"Please don't blame yourself, son." Your father tells him, pulling Christian into a hug.
But even as the funeral passed, and he laid in the cold empty bed, he couldn't bring himself to believe anyone. If it had been him and not you, perhaps the world would had seem brighter still.
