I never expected it to end like this. The only person I'd ever loved, dead. Me, drowning myself in alcohol, trying to block out the pain. God, I was turning into him, but the more it hurt, the more I drank. Maybe I should explain this, maybe it will help the pain. No. Only alcohol does that.
*flashback time*
We'd had another argument again. Not the worst, but we still weren't talking. So I'd decided to stay with Jehan, best comforter of the Amis. Little did I know, he was there too. My beautiful, messy haired, green-eyed, artistic boyfriend.
Jehan was kind enough to let me stay in the spare room they used to let their boyfriend stay in. Which meant, without me knowing, mine had to sleep on the sofa in the main room of the apartment.
So of course I found it unusual to hear a loud bang at around two in the morning. My first instinct, go look. I wasn't expecting to see a figure standing in the doorway holding a gun.
Further to that, I certainly did not expect to see my boyfriend standing there, with his back to me. He was clearly in pain, I could tell that just from one glance. The bang. It was the gun. Oh god, he'd been shot. I made a stupid mistake. I spoke. I'd made myself known, and that meant the barrel of the gun was now pointed directly at me.
It was him. His father. The psychopath, murderer. He'd shot my boyfriend, his son. I could hear him pleading with his father. For me. For my life. I could see the mans finger on the trigger. Ready to kill. So I closed my eyes and waited for the shot that never came. But I had heard it, so where was the blood? The pain?
Time started to slow around me. One minute he was just standing there. Then he was on the floor, bleeding from two different bullet wounds. I had to move, I did. I was on the floor next to him, trying to keep him awake. Then I noticed Jehan was already on the phone. The coward that shot him had fled. I couldn't lose him. Not now, not ever, not him.
Three hours later, still breathing, but not awake. I wanted to see his eyes, his smile, hear his voice. Not yet. I needed to remember he was asleep, sedated. But of course, I was being impatient. Like always. So I sat there, next to the bed, holding his hand. He woke up eventually. Then he uttered seven words, ones I'd heard too often after arguments.
"Why are you here? You hate me."
I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say to him. So I just hugged him. The hug seemed to last for eternity, nothing but white noise surrounding us. Damn the noise. It was too loud. Where was it coming from? Oh god. No. The sound was too consistent, too rhythmic. The heart monitor, flatlining. This was a dream. It had to be a dream. In truth, it was all real. Doctors and nurses, trying to restart his pulse. Then they called it, time of death.
I couldn't stay there. Not any more. My feet had carried me to the nearest bar. The guilt of his words, causing pain every second. The thought that he had died thinking I hated him. I didn't know one bottle from the next. All I remembered was waking up the next day, feeling like hell, and not knowing why. But the pain came back, it all came back. The cycle started again. Wake up, remember, drink, forget, pass out and repeat.
*end le flashback*
Here I was, a week later, curled up on my friends sofa, with the only memory I could associate with my dead boyfriend. Alcohol. One week and I'd finally started hallucinating. He was stood there, in front of me. No doubt a byproduct of my intoxicated state.
He was so real. I wanted to hug him. Throw myself into his embrace and stay there. Why was my mind playing tricks on me? Stupid mind, stupid fate. Him. The illusion. Telling me he was alive. That he survived. That death only lasted a few minutes.
I hated him, and I loved him. I hated him for the lies, the false sayings that he was still here. I loved him for the potential truth, he could be alive. I knew I could test that, Jehan had just walked in. They'd said 'hello' to him. They could see the illusion I was experiencing. He was alive. I'd ended up in his arms. I stayed in the hug, and I never wanted to let go again.
