Looking back I should have known all along that Lucy Montgomery was going to die. That hope was a pointless waste of both of our times.
This was no happy story with a happy ending where she'd get some happy miracle surgery or happy chemo where the poisons would suck the poisons out of her.
You could tell every second you saw her her body was slowly giving in, cradling her soul tightly— whispering for it let go, let go.
Maybe I just didn't want to believe it, not at the time, and not for the next 3 years after until the moment where I tossed my graduation cap in the air with my hundreds of other peers just like me realizing that Lucy would never get the chance to do this. That she'd go her entire life— well, 'death'— not ever finishing these hell-filled years of school. She'd never go to college. Never get married, have kids. She'd be 16 forever and always in our minds.
There are times still where I think of her, not having heard her voice, seen her face in years but still feeling that same lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach when I imagine her. Out of the billions of people in this world I had gotten the privilege of knowing Lucy Montgomery, which was good luck, but had the fate of losing her, which was bad luck.
Life's unfair, you've heard these words on repeat ever since you were 6 crying and throwing a fit over how you didn't get that toy helicopter you wanted and little Susie down the street did. You don't get to pick and choose what you want and get in this world. It took me a good 18 years to realize this.
Lucy, life's a bitch, it stupidly chose to throw yours away, when you might have been the last good in this world.
