It was supposed to be me.

They tried not to talk about it. I'm not sure of that was a kind gesture, or because they didn't really believe me. It was a silly disease none of them had ever heard of. Not serious like cancer. No, that's wrong. All diseases are serious.

After my parents died I could never wash the bitter taste of death from my mouth. It was unexpected when they went. They did not plan for it, except that one small life insurance policy Mom never told us about. That $20.000 is a joke when you realize they are trading you that for a life. But after they were gone it was all I had. That and a diagnosis.

He offered me a shoulder to cry on. He was my strength when I had none. I grew to hate my life except for the parts that included him. I rose everyday only for the new opportunity of spending time with him. It's terrible to grieve and love at the same time. Especially when the person you love doesn't love you back. He was a good friend, but he had no intentions of loving me outside those bounds.

It went on like that for months. And then I began to feel weaker on the inside. No point in going into the details. I knew what it meant. But no one took me seriously when I told them, so I stopped telling them. But I knew I had to prepare. I had to do the things my parents had not done.

That life insurance money was all I had; that and an unrequited love. It was an easy thing to do. I was reall only going to get information at the bamk that day. I figured I needed a social security number at least. And I hadn't even begun to think how to ask for that. But the fiancial adviser said a name would be enough. So I just did it right there, in five minutes. I left him everything I had. He would've protested if I had told him. So I didn't. He would have found out the same way I did when my parents died.

In the weeks that followed the trip to the bank, I began to contemplate what he would think of what I had done. Should I leave a letter for him explaining why? Because I loved him. Or would he know? Or figure it out? Or would someone tell him? I didn't want to insult him or embarrass myself. 'Caught dead' and all. But that is what love does. It makes you a fool. And if they love you back they'll be fools too. And fools understand one another.

I was unprepared for the first call. I believed I would never have to endure another, that I would be the cause fo the last one of those to be made in my time.

I was in the hospital to see him. I don't remember actually getting there. From the phone call to the moment I saw his bandaged face is a blank. Better that way I suppose. He was unconscious for 6 hours. I was there the whole time. People kept coming to see him and crying and leaving. I was there when the machines went crazy and the nurses started sending us all out. I stood outside the door waiting with his family and friends, frozen. When the nurse came out to tell us he was gone I took it calmly. Too calmly. It was supposed to be me that died first. Without him....

Right there in the hospital parking lot I held the end of the .38 up to my ear and pulled the trigger.