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Stained

My heart monitor lulls quietly. I stare at the window, at it's tiny tears rolling softly down. I want to press my palm against it, I want to tell it that nothing is okay, that the sun will never shine again. Instead I watch with longing, my legs tangled in the crisp white sheets. I grab a carton of grape juice and place it on my lap. It's been so long, and yet I still care. I think it will always be this way. I slowly tip the carton over. A tiny spot of plum blossoms quickly into a flower, seeping into the blankets, staining them forever. Now a nurse will come in and throw them away. She will take me with her because I, too, am stained forever. And she can no longer tell the difference between us. A memory flashes in my hollow ovals. His liquid brown eyes latched onto mine. Beep beep beep beep beep beep. I close my eyes in pain. It hurts too much. I thought it would be painful, this whole process. They told me it would. But what do they know. It's the memories that kill, that tear organs apart and clog bloodstreams. It's the way his boyish laughter echoes inside my empty skull that causes me to grow paler, weaker. It's everything I don't have. The pain subsides and I slowly open my eyes again. The room is empty. A tear slides out of the corner of my eye. One day I will no longer have the will to open them. Because it gets tiring not seeing him there. And I am tired, so, so tired.



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