She is dying and I don't want her to.
She looks up at me and blinks, and whispers something that I cannot hear. She looks so thin and weak. I know that if I press a finger to her skin I'll feel bones, sharp and defined.
I lean in closer and turn my ear to her face. "Say it again."
Her lips move and this time I hear her words.
"You're more scared than me," she whispers. Her eyes are wide in her face, and I they follow me as I straighten up and look at her. She almost has a smile on her lips; they curve at the ends. The emotion is alien in her face.
I can feel the tears swimming in my eyes as I snake my hand across the sheet to hold hers. It feels fragile; I'm afraid to hold too tight, lest it fall apart between my fingers. A small tube runs between my hand and hers. I know that without the tube she will die. And I know that with the tube, she will still die.
"Probably," I say, trying to be as brave as she is. We sit in silence for a long moment; I look down at her and try not to cry, and she looks up at me. I can see myself reflected in her huge eyes. She blinks, and I sniff.
"Are you scared?" I ask. Her eyes do not move from my face, but I know that behind them her mind is pondering this. Her lips move again, and I can see her gathering up the strength to speak. I lean in again, so that she doesn't have to try hard.
"Yes."
I don't lean back, just watch her eyes as she stares resolutely up at me. I try and think of what to say, but I know that if I try and speak I will cry. I can feel it building up inside me. I take a second or two to compose myself, and then I stroke her hand with my fingers.
"What are you scared of?" My voice is almost as soft as hers, punctuated with restrained sobs.
"Disappearing," she says, so quietly that I'm surprised the air vibrated at all. "Becoming nothing." Her breath runs out on the last word, and it is just a sigh.
I try to smile, but I can't. She is still so beautiful, even though there is so little left. Her skin is pale, white as snow but also white as death. I can't tell where her cheeks are because there is no redness. This lack of colour unsettles me more than anything. It makes her look almost inhuman.
Her eyes hold me; I can't look away.
I slowly shake my head. "You won't disappear." Her eyes seem to get wider; I feel like I am loosing myself in them, swimming in them. "You won't." I can't stop the tear that drops from my eye and swiftly falls down my face. "You'll go up and up and up," I take a breath, "until you're above the clouds, and then you'll look down and smile at me."
Her hand tightens, ever so slightly, around mine. "Go on," she breathes.
"You'll be free and happy and you'll laugh about how you feared it." More tears are falling from my eyes, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her gaze is fixed on my eyes. She is drinking my story. "You'll laugh because it's so warm and easy up in the clouds. You can watch over me for hours and hours."
Her eyelids flutter and I know she is falling under. I can't loose her. I speak faster.
"I'll miss you." I say. "I'll miss you so much. But every time I look at the clouds I'll know you're up there somewhere, and that you miss me too, but that you're happy. You won't be nothing, you'll be the same." Her eyes drift across my face, and desperately I reposition my head so that we are still eye to eye. "All those bonds that held you here with me will be cut away, and there'll be no more pain or worry or tubes or doctors or anything. It'll be light and clear and everyone will sing and dream."
Her hand definitely closes around mine this time, and her eyes flutter shut. My breath catches in my throat and I shake my head, trying to speak.
She beats me to it. "I love you," she whispers.
"I love you too," I reply before I know I have. My voice is thick with tears. They're seeping down my face now. "So much."
Her eyelids twitch, and part slightly. I can just see her eyes poking out underneath, and they are as bright as ever, sparkling with her light. I choke in a breath, and clutch her hand tighter. She responds with her fingers, but weaker, weaker...
Her eyelids close and her fingers fall limp.
My control breaks as the tears flood me, and I know that she is dead.
Gone.
