Young Writers Society

Megan wasn't entirely surprised at having to come home again; it had happened enough times that year, to the point where it was nearly normal. The only difference with this trip was that she knew she wouldn't be coming back.

After Emily's death, which Megan still couldn't talk about without getting emotional, she and Thomas shortened their winter break to get back to college. Meg needed to take her mind off of things for a while, needed work to bury herself in. With her mind occupied, there could be nothing else to think about. Firmly denying that anything bad had happened, she turned inwards to herself where normally she would've turned to others.

She made Thomas promise not to tell anyone the first time she got sick. The stress had built and built on her, and when she turned around to talk with Emily, only the emptiness of someone lost was there to greet her. She felt weak and dizzy; she involuntarily vomited. When that long night of illness was over, Meg claimed to be alright.

It hit her the second time a week later. Megan had headaches and nausea; she felt guilty and stressed and so many other emotions she couldn't begin to separate them. By the third time it happened, Thomas urged her to get help. The fourth time, Thomas broke his promise and contacted a doctor.

Unfortunately, there wasn't some sort of "magical cure" for Megan's illness. She had to work with others and with herself to grow and accept what had happened and move on with her own life. Except that didn't happen.

As Megan became more and more closed into herself, she stopped denying the suicide, instead lashing out in anger because of what Emily had done. Thomas bore the brunt of her outbursts, but even he couldn't take it for very long. Although he cared deeply for Meg, he ended their relationship. Thomas had tried all he could, had been there every step of the way for Megan, but she adamantly refused his help. He couldn't take it anymore than she could, so one of them had to do something.

With Thomas gone, Megan sank deep into her depression, all the while still feeling physically ill. She ate little, barely slept, and headaches and cramps plagued her day and night. Unfit to go on with college life at times, she sent herself home to her parents. They still loved her deeply, and took care of her through the long nights, sitting in the bathroom with Meg while tears streamed down her wretched face.

Sometimes, Megan found herself feeling better and returned to school, but she only ever lasted a few weeks on campus before her dark thoughts assailed her once more, like a rising storm that only grew more dangerous.

She knew this trip, however, to be her last. Megan could barely recall the last time she ate, the last time she slept. She was a wreck, and admitted it freely. Meg was slowly coming to terms with Emily's death, but her physical illness still troubled her.

Megan was in a calm state, almost normal, except that she was lying in her bed while headaches tore through her head and cramps twisted her gut. She was happy about one thing, though- Isabelle often had free weekends when she could come to visit, and they talked for long hours about anything. This was one of those days where friendship, the only thing Megan felt that she had left, shone true.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Isabelle jumped up, abruptly ending their conversation. "I'll get it!" she hummed, and softly closed the door behind her. They were no longer afraid to leave Meg alone, as her depression was fading and she was left only with her physical sickness.

From the foyer, Meg heard the door opening, and a muffled exclamation of joy. Following a brief, mired conversation, footsteps sounded in the hall.

"Meg?" Isabelle asked, tears glinting in her eyes. "There's someone here to see you."

Curious, Megan pushed herself up in her bed, fluffing the pillows behind her. "A visitor? That's new. Come on in, Izzy."

Isabelle walked in, pulling the door open wide to reveal-

Chris.

He was leaning rather awkwardly against the doorframe. He had grown much taller, but his green eyes were the same, his ruffled brown and red hair. He looked at her with unconditional love and concern, the same way he had when she had frostbitten fingers all those years ago.

Chris. It was really him.

Tears pricking at the corners of her own eyes, Megan pulled herself out of bed and stumbled slightly towards him. "Chris," she breathed when they stood face to face, he a few inches taller than her. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, and then Chris swooped Megan up in a gigantic hug.

"Megan," he said, his voice muffled in her hair as he held her closely. "I missed you so much." She started crying for real, then, but she was laughing as well.

"Oh gosh, Chris. I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered, looking up into the face of her long lost friend. Gently, he lifted her back into the bed, tucking the covers around her before sitting down.

They had both had hard lives, but neither of them talked about it, or how Chris got there or how Megan was sick. They just shared the memories they had made together, and talked about all the things they wanted to do.

Eventually, the talking died down as Megan began to feel more tired than she had ever felt before. Her headache slowly disappeared, and Chris and Isabelle exchanged a glance.

"She died," Meg murmured, almost to herself. "Emily died, but it's not my fault. It was her decision, and I hope she's happy somewhere, but it's okay. I'm okay. I forgive you, Emily. I'm alright again." She laid her head on Chris's shoulder and he softly stroked her hair.

"I still have the picture," he told her, "the one you painted for me."

"Then I'm glad," Megan smiled, her eyelids fluttering.

"There's something else I wanted you to know."

"Yes?" Meg turned her head slightly to look at him as the silence stretched on. "What is it?"

"I always loved you, Megan," Chris said softly to her as he held her close.

"I... I always loved you too... Chris," she murmured, her eyes finally sliding closed. She fell asleep for the last time in the arms of a friend. Someone she loved.