6 months later
hitlers pov
I can't believe it's been five months since I've seen him. Five months of pain and crying and a depressing pain that never really goes away despite how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. I've tried to distract myself from him. I flew home and helped my country fight a war but it doesn't help. I'm constantly upset and it's all his fault. We were doing so well for about a month after Ibrahim left. We spent nearly every day together and it was the most incredible thing ever. The only time we were apart was after what happened. We were in the movies when suddenly he started spazzing out and crying and screaming. I thought he was going to die so two hours later when the movie ended, I called 911. They took us to the hospital when we found out his cancer had returned and he didn't have very long to live. I started crying and he told me he'd be okay and that he'd fight it and stay with me and stay for me. The next day he was able to go home but a nurse came with him to help him with his oxygen and medicine he now required to live. It was very awkward when we were doing the do later that day with the nurse watching us but whatever. He was good for about a week. Then he called me into our room and told me it was time to talk. He told me he couldn't do it anymore. I was so confused i didn't know what he meant at the time but I would soon find out. "What do you mean?" I kept asking him. Over and over but with no response. He looked drowsy so I guessed it was time for his nap but he had already napped that day. I was getting very nervous so I called his nurse into the room and asked what happened. She gasped. She told me he pulled off his oxygen mask. Oh I knew that. He began coughing and it sounded like the sound of a coughing ogre I was so upset. I tried shoving it back on his face but he refused. "I can't do this anymore." he told me. With a final tear running down his face, he whispered his last words which happened to be his final goodbye. I broke down then, sobbing until I was shaking, unable to breathe. I knew he was dead but I simply couldn't accept the inevitable. He's gone and there was nothing on earth I could do to bring him back. I held his hand until the nurse told me she had to prepare him for the funeral. I left town that day, never to return. I drove to the airport and flew to my home country with hopes of restarting my life. Now 5 months later, the pain is too unbearable to go on away. I can't do it anymore. But at least soon I will be reunited with the last person on earth I know I loved. To be like him, to be like Shrek, I mutter "goodbye" to myself as I shoot myself in the head.
t h e e n d .
