the mournful death of Jane E.R. Katynski

II

I had never been as sad as I was this cloudy afternoon. I didn't  think anybody could be so sad. In fact I felt like my head was melting while my heart couldn't pump blood anymore. It is the first in my life that I felt like I couldn't live anymore. Why would I?
A stupid fucking bus, I relived the scene every time my eyes closed and when they opened up tears streamed down my face.
A stupid fucking bus, with a stupid fucking bus driver. I'd sue him if I was in the right place to do so. I'd kill him with my own hands, blocking the air out of his body and waiting for his soul to escape as he turns blue. Hoping to buy my friends life with his dying breath.

I miss Moona. I miss her smell, I miss her face.
I miss the feeling of knowing that I could call her and hear her voice. That I could go to her house and play the guitar in her room while she reads an annoyingly mainstream book.

"Do you need anything sweetie?" as she asked, my mom had put her hand on my shoulder, in an attempt to comfort me.

I opened my eyes and my head fell off, rolling like a ball on the cold hospital floor.
-do I need something-
My eyes, a feet away from my body, I could see the few people waiting in the room.
A man with a red beard, playing silently with a little boy. His child?
A woman walking back and forth from the hallway to the room, obviously stressed out.
And then all went blurry.

My head was back between my shoulders, where I could still feel the tender touch of my mom's hand.
-do I need something-

"A glass of water please." I answered, sobbing quietly.

Her hand left my shoulder. And then I can't recall what happened.

....

This is the day that I died.
This is also the day Moona died.
This cloudy afternoon afternoon changed my life, probably for the worst.
Now I'm sure some of you would like to know exactly what happened.
I'm sorry I can't tell you. You've already guessed.