Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

End

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I looked down again at the scrap of paper I had in my hands, worried. I was running late. Clare had said 5, it was... I checked my watch. 5:30 now. Once again, I wondered what she wanted me to come here for. We hadn't spoken for a month or more, since... well. Since things had gone bad for her. She'd distanced herself from me, and although I didn't want it to happen, people had told me it was best to let her go, right now, come back to her later. So I'd let her go, and now... Now she was coming back. I was so relieved. For the past month none of us had been able to get a hold of her, we'd been worried sick. I found the house, and walked hurriedly up the drive. I knocked on the door, and she opened it. My heart jumped at the sight of her, relief flooding me. 'Oh God Clare, thank God you're ok.' I said, stepping forward to give her a hug, she stepped backwards, avoiding the contact, and I nodded, backing away, a little hurt. She gave a wry smile, tilting her head to the side, before stepping aside and gesturing for me to come in. I did, and she shut the door behind me, still wordlessly. I looked around, glancing over at her. 'You live her?' I asked, incredulity tainting my tone. She nodded, 'It suits my needs.' She said softly, as I looked around again at the bare floors and spartan furnishings. I looked over at her, 'How are you?' I asked softly, and she laughed bitterly. 'Ah, straight to the point.' She gestured for me to follow her as she moved into another room, and I followed. There was a video recorder set up, pointing at a slight downwards angle. I frowned, slightly apprehensive. 'What's this about?' I asked Clare's back. She didn't pause, but went and turned the camera on, then went and knelt in front of it, patting for me to kneel down before her. 'C'mere, George.' She murmured with a bitter-sweet smile. I obliged, shifting uncomfortably on the hard, bare floorboards, waiting for her to tell me what was going on. I watched her, examining the lines and imperfections in the middle-aged face, but the one that I still thought was beautiful, always had, in fact. 'What's this about?' I repeated, and slowly, she drew out a box from behind her, pushing it across the bare floorboards towards me. I reached out, and undid the lid, flipping it open. My hands stilled as I caught sight of what lay within. A gun. I looked up at Clare, my eyes wide with a sudden fear. But I couldn't phrase the question. 'No.' I said, catching sight of what I wanted to know in her eyes. 'No!' I yelled, and she merely looked disappointed. She looked down at her hands, in her lap, then looked up at me from beneath lowered lashes. 'Please, George. You're the only one I can trust.' Suddenly, I realized that her hands were shaking, even clasped tightly in her lap. I looked down at my own hands, and noticed that they were the same. 'No.' I said softly, almost whispering now. I didn't move. 'Please don't ask this of me.' I murmured. Clare suddenly looked distraught, miserable. 'Please.' We both whispered at the same time. Tears welled up in my eyes, as did hers, and we met each others eyes. For a long minute, both of us looked deep into the other's gaze, tears obscuring our sight. At the end of that long scrutiny, I sobbed, and reached out and picked up the gun, my hands shaking so badly I could barely grasp it. All of a sudden we were both fifteen again, dressed in school uniform with unlined faces and carefree eyes, except that we were both crying, and one of us was about to die. 'Don't make me.' I whispered, my tears funnily enough not effecting my voice. She met my eyes again. 'You're the only one who would.' She whispered, just as softly. After a moment, I nodded. I knew she was right, and I knew that it was no use trying to convince her to live. She might get over it, but she'd never forget it, and always live in guilt and misery. Besides, she'd do it herself if I didn't do it for her. Slowly, hesitantly, awkwardly, I lent forward, the gun still clasped oddly in my right hand, and put a hand on the back of her head, closing my eyes as I kissed her. I felt her stiffen beneath my touch, the disgust and revulsion clear in the tension of her body. I drew away again, after the briefest brush of our lips, and met her eyes. 'I love you.' I said softly, weakly, knowing that it couldn't do anything but worsen the situation. She nodded. 'I know.' She said, and I felt a start of surprise. Now, so long after that business had first surfaced, I'd hid what I felt for so long I thought it had died in her memory, that she didn't know. 'I always have.' I said again, and once more she nodded. 'I know.' I looked hopefully at her for a second, before looking away. No deathbed confessions for Clare, then. 'I loved you. Once.' She said softly, her voice choked with tears. I nodded slowly, closing my eyes, feeling yet another tear squeeze out beneath my eyelid, and opened them with surprise as she touched my hand. 'It's time.' She said softly, lifting the hand that held the gun, raising it to her chest, just over her heart. 'Goodbye, my friend.' She said softly, her hands and voice steady now, for some odd reason. 'Goodbye', I started to say, but couldn't force the words from my lips. Instead: 'I'll never forget you.' escaped. There wasn't time for anything else, as, almost by itself, my finger pulled the trigger, and my world exploded in a violent bang, a flash of light, and a spray of heat against my face and arms.

Georgina woke screaming, tears streaking her face and the blood still hot and sticky against her arms and face in her mind. There was a pounding of feet in the hallway, and her parents and brothers rushed in, cradling her against their chest as she sobbed, spasms that wracked her body. 'Oh God, Clare.' was the only thing she said as she cried, her parents looking over her head at each other, frowning in concern and confusion.