A/n: This story will be updated erratically, and for that I apologize in advance. My reasoning for writing this is very personal, as the majority of it is true—or at least, “inspired by true events”. My fiancé, Danny, died Oct. 25th, 2006 of a sudden, but not entirely unexpected heart attack. He was 22 years old. He had lived (and I do mean Live) with a heart problem the entirety of his short existence. We had been friends in elementary school, and then, when we met the grown up versions of each other years later, fell in love. This story is both my therapy and a way for me to immortalize this amazing man who was the love of my life. I will try for updates at the least, once a week, but I can’t guarantee anything. I will promise, however, that this story will Not go unfinished.

Thank you for reading. Your comments and critiques are both welcome and encouraged. -j

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Sunshine.
by: thejennamonster

Prologue A: And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men…

It was the phone call she never wanted to have to make.
“Hello? Hello? It’s Erin. There’s something…it’s John. He’s…the paramedics are here, I had to call 911, and…I don’t know what’s going on, I think he had a heart attack, I don’t know, just, they’re taking him to the hospital…I don’t know what’s going on…”

Time moved so quickly, yet every minute seemed to last a million years. The nurses said nothing; the doctors spoke nonsense, and all she knew was that the love of her life was fifteen feet away from her, in a closet of a room, fighting for his life—the life that she felt disappear under her fingertips as she checked his pulse an hour before in the first apartment that they were able to claim as “Theirs”.

She was empty, drained. She had been in enough hospitals during enough emergency situations to know that no news was normally bad news. He was gone—she had watched his essence leave him with that last pained breath, and no amount of praying or wishing would change that.

Yet still she prayed. Every deity from every religion she could think of passed through her mind, each being sent the same simple message, “Please save him. Please don’t take him away from me. Please, let him live.”

But the gods, that night, were no where to be found.

No one should die at 22.

And yet, he did, leaving her in too much pain to even cry.