Death Of A Lover

Losing the Love of My Life

I got the call on the day that I landed in New York. I remember it so vividly.

I had just walked in the door of my hotel room when my phone started ringing. After the call, I immediately got on the next flight back to L.A., I didn't say anything the whole time. I was in a trance-like state. She wasn't dead yet,  but she was dying. Fast. Nicole was in a coma, one that she would never get out of. It wasn't until I got to L.A. that I found out what happened.

The day after I left, Nicole was still feeling guilty for fighting with her mother so she decided to drive to her mother's house. Well, on the way there, a half-asleep truck driver dozed off and plowed through a red light... right into Nicole's car. The accident had thrown her out of the car and left a several big gashes across her  forehead and the back of her head. She had been unresponsive ever since.

When I got to the hospital, she was more dead than alive. So was I. It all seemed so surreal. Like there was no way this was really happening. I couldn't really be losing the person I was fixing to propose to, could I? I had even bought the engagement ring! Now, I'll never get the chance. I stayed there all day and all night, nothing changed. She was still dying. Her mother didn't even stop by once. Not once. It was her fault! I was jerked out of my thoughts when the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor turned in to a constant beep. "Nurse! Someone! We have a problem in her!" I yelled, panicking. Two nurses and a doctor rushed into the room wheeling in several devices with them. "Ma'am, we're gonna need you to wait outside," the doctor said in a hurried voice. I let him push me out the door. I put my back against the opposite wall and sank to the floor. I drew my knees up to my chest and layed my head on top of them. And I cried. For the first time since I got that damned phone call. I cried for what could have been our life together. I cried for the lost opportunity to give Nicole the wedding she had always dreamed of. But mostly I cried for the loss of my own life. That damn truck driver didn't just kill the everything I had to live for, he also killed me. I was still crying when the older nurse came out of the room to me. "I'm very sorry, we did everything we could. She didn't make it," I stopped crying. Anger started slowly replacing the sadness until I was entirely consumed with a rage like no other. I got up off the floor and headed to the exit. I left that hospital a different person with only one thought: revenge. Whoever took away my whole world doesn't deserve to live on this one. They will pay.