He walked giddily on the sidewalk on his way home. His smile bright as he greets passersby. The roses in his right hand smell sweet. The food in the other hand was still warm. They were from all her favorite places. Head to the sky, he thought about her smile. He stopped walking and looked at the moon. It was bright. It reminded him of her, the light of his life as he called her. He looked forward again and continued walking.
He rounded on their home, where he knew she was waiting on him to surprise her. One by one he took the stairs to the front door. He put the roses under his left arm and dug in his pocket for the keys. Finding them, he maneuvered the key into the lock and turned. It silently unlocked and he slipped in, careful to close the door behind him.
He crossed the hallway and headed for the bedroom. The keys were dropped onto a saucer next to hers. Good, she was home. He stood up straight and fixed his clothing. He walked slowly to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door and was ready to see her face. The bright face that he was expecting was white. Devoid of life and the usual happiness.
She lay on the floor at the edge of the bed. Her hands limp at her side. The left was what caught his eye and held his gaze. She has cut herself. Too deeply this time. A pool of blood surrounded her. His worst fear had come through. The progress that he thought he’d made with her, was it all in his head? The Chinese food and roses hit the floor a moment before his knees did.
He couldn’t move. The love of his life sat there. Gone. Forever. Could he have helped? Could he have done better? He barely felt the tears that ran down his face, but he knew they were there, running. His mouth was wide open. Why? He realized he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear anything. The only thing he could focus on was the hole being torn into his chest.
He would never be the same again without her.