Our Last Goodbye

Our Last Goodbye

Carson Main

The Artwood Chronicle

"The greatest weapons on Earth aren't guns or nuclear bombs but hate and loneliness. The substances that cause you to become your own worst enemy."

-Stephanie Charm

"The ones who are weird, different, crazy, strange, alone, rebellious, creative, and intrinsically adventurous, never sacrifice yourself to people who are self-restricted to being normal."

-Steven Martin Martinez

Prologue

I stand in front of her home; it is uniform with the houses that line the block. The single orchid that we planted together is still in the front yard. It is getting its daily visit from a pack of butterflies who spend their time fluttering around this town. A murder of crows is scattered throughout the trees around Stephanie's house; they watch patiently. Their eyes burrow into my soul; I feel them monitoring me like a camera's lens. The marbled sky above the city of Artwood (Home of the Pandora Corporation, Trivium) is still gray, much like my world, a lonely place without her brightening it up. I still can't believe she did it; I desperately wish I could understand why it happened. I wish I could have been there for her when she needed me the most; I wish I could have saved her. But she is gone, and she will never open her eyes again. Steph left a big hole in my heart. I miss her so badly and all the time we lost.

My mind keeps playing over the last moments we spent together. The look on Stephanie's face when we fought still burns in my mind. I can't look in the mirror without hating the person staring back at me. I can't see her angelic face without crying because of what I did to her. It's all a nightmare that I will never wake up from; now, I debate in my head if I can bring myself to do this. Finally, after having an internal argument, I limp to the front door with my cane, my stomach in knots that bind tighter with each step I take. I know I can't make any of this right, but I need to try, so I knocked on the door before I could get any second thoughts. Her mother answers; her eyes are red from crying all night. I did the same; I cried every time I thought about Stephanie and her suicide. Even though her death was a week ago, the pain is still fresh.

"Hello, Mrs. Charm," I steady my nerves as Stephanie's mom, a short, plump woman with dark red hair, opens the door. "It's me, Matthew Lawson."

"Hi Matt," she quickly rubs her eyes and straightens her dress. "Sorry, I look like a mess. How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I needed to see Stephanie's room; I just wanted to pay my respects," I said sincerely.

"Sure," she steps to the side, "please come in."

"Thank you." I limp into the house, avoiding her stare.

"This way," Miss Charm leads me upstairs. She carefully places one arm behind my back and the other hovering above my cane as I struggle up the stairs. I pretend not to notice it; I do not want to do anything to upset her. Once we are in Stephanie's room, she turns to me, tells me to call if I need anything, and heads downstairs. I never thought I could get out of bed, let alone bring myself here. Now, I am standing in front of Steph's room, hoping she will be waiting for me on her comforter. Or seeing her in the school halls, walking to my locker with that innocent smile and throwing her arms around my neck as we embraced, proving her death wasn't real. But she's gone, and I am left wishing for something that won't come true. I slowly open the door; the rope she used to hang herself is still in the middle of the floor. The chair she stood on is toppled over a few inches away by the window I crawled through so many nights. I move forward, trying to restrain my tears with fixed determination. I look around; every moment we spend in here still lingers in the air, and the walls and memories start to flood my head. Every piece of our past is displayed; every unique memento paints the story of our love. A tale lost to the hands of time. Suddenly, the room starts spinning; I walk over to her still-made bed and sit on it in silence as I take it all in. Across from me on a wooden desk is an empty video camera she used to tape her suicide; the police took the tape for evidence.