“My father always told me that if I was a good girl nothing bad would ever happen to me… so why did this happen?”
Lizza Arneta lied in the hospital in a comatose state. She was painfully still, her chest barely moving up and down with each shallow breath that she took.
Taylor Shad sat by her bed, his head buried in his hands. Anyone would’ve thought that he was simply upset, but in truth, he was ashamed. If only he hadn’t been late for the date. He wasn’t one for tardiness, and this time was a rare occasion. Taylor had been dealing with his own problems, and had been under circumstances in which he was forced to sneak out of the house.
He lifted his head from his hands, gazing at Lizza, his eyes clouded in thought. What could have possibly gone wrong? What had caused the car to hit her; she wasn’t overly cautious, but she wasn’t reckless either. It wasn’t like her to get hit by something like a car, so it had to have been a drunk driver or a slip up.
Why though; why did it have to be her? Lizza was just an innocent girl, and had only lived such a short period of her life through. In the sixteen years that she had lived, she’d gone through all the motions. She had been that girl who played with dolls and wore brightly coloured dresses day in, day out. She’d realized that the life wasn’t meant for her, when she had started cutting herself. She had enjoyed watching the scarlet blood trickle down her arms or legs, wherever she’d felt she would sever.
She’d also met Taylor.
Taylor had gone through much the same motions, being one to play with cars and trains, and eventually deciding he wanted to be a famous football player. Those dreams had been tossed aside when Taylor had accidentally slipped and fell against a sharp piece of metal in the school workshop. He had marvelled at the sight of crimson liquid flowing down his arm, and felt a strange urge to do it again. Of course he hadn’t, and was confused by this at first, until he eventually began wearing long sleeve t-shirts to cover up the scars.
Now, though, he felt broken, torn between the love of his life that lay before him and the urge to reach for the spare knife that lay forgotten after surgery.
* * *
Lizza hadn’t stirred in weeks, and Taylor was slowly slipping. He’d been leaving the hospital early and locking himself in his room, leaving again with fresh bandages, hidden under the long black sleeves of his shirt. He hadn’t brushed his black hair at all and was beginning to gain a thin layer of stubble over his top lip.
Lizza, on the other hand, was getting dark around her eyes and paler skin, and was beginning to resemble a skeleton, even if her heart was still beating faintly.
Then it happened. The one day when Taylor neglected going to the hospital, all that could be heard from Lizza’s room was that one long beep, like a death toll.
Taylor gave up the cuts and reluctantly came to be at the hospital, not bothering to greet the workers, already having memorized Lizza’s room number.
He heard the beep before he saw her.
* * *
Taylor made no sound but a strangled gasp when he did see her, remembering all that they had been through in one single flash.
“Lizza Arnett’s the name.”
“What are those slits on your wrist?”
“You’re an Emo too?”
“That was the best date any boy has ever taken me on… Thank you.”
“I… Taylor I think I love you…”
“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”
“Emo’s don’t have to be depressed ‘goths’…”
“You might say so but I disagree!”
“Tay, I do love you… but if you don’t love me back then so be it.”
So much had happened in so little time… and he’d never said goodbye… or I love you…
He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t go through it any longer…
They found his body a week later, covered in cuts and blood.
* * *