Cats.

The sun finally peeked into the shutters of our quiet New York apartment. I rolled over to see if he was awake yet, but he was still far off in his dreams. I looked at his soft, brown hair and his beautiful face and I thought about how perfect he was. I knew I was the luckiest girl.

After looking at him for what seemed like hours, I grabbed my MacBook and started it up. I would've gone for some tea, but I didn't have the energy to make my cold feet meet the floor.

When my laptop made the huge noise it makes when it turns on, I freaked out and tried to conceal it. Luckily, when I looked over to him, he just stirred and rolled over.

I wonder if he ever dreams of me, of us, I thought to myself. I know I always do. That's probably why I sleep so much.

I dropped that thought and decided to work. I would edit a video, but I wouldn't chance the noise. Photoshop it was. My boss wanted me to edit the cover for the September edition of "Vogue Magazine" anyways.

Even though we both make enough money to be living in a huge house, we both desired for a cozy, two-bedroom apartment. We had a single mattress on the floor, white sheets from Wal-Mart, and his mother's old brown comforter. My closet consisted of clothes from Saver's, garage sales, and clearance items from Forever 21. I mean my cat's things are more expensive than my own. But then again, we both like it that way.

I still remember, when I was in seventh grade and my best friend was trying to hook us up. She said we where both nice, funny, hipster, and perfect. And to think I cried almost every night, sure that he wanted nothing to do with me. Until of course he asked me to meet him outside the P.E. locker rooms and proved to me, all those tears were shed for nothing.

However, that summer, him and his family were moving to Colorado. I knew it would be over between us. I would never see him again.

We kept in touch though, he went to high school in Colorado and I finished up middle school here. Next year him and his family had problems, and were forced to move back. Now, we were together once again.

Now, eight years later, I was almost done with my last year of college, working as a photographer for "Vogue" and him as "Vogue's" graphic designer. We were always together and in love.

BEEP

"Crap!" I yelled/whispered. Maybe I should put my laptop in mute because this noise isn't helping him sleep.

Click Click Click Click Click

There. No more noise.

BANG!

"Holy sh-" I let my sentence drop.

"What the hell?" he said in a drowsy voice.

The cats had woken him up.

"It was probably just Sophie or Pinecone," I said getting up to see what trouble they had gotten in. "Damn cats…" he murmured, and rolled back over.

I walked into the living room, expecting to see a pot or a shatter plant at the worst.

"Oh. My. God." At this, he came rushing in. The cats pushed over our $2,000 computer, a desk, a picture, and a pot.

"Ugh… Why?" He was pissed.

I couldn't help but laugh at their innocent little faces. He was pacing, pushing his hair back.

"How do two cats push over a desk?!"

I went over to hug him, and when I did, I could feel the rage within him.

"I'll run to the Apple store later…" I said trying to comfort him. "Don't worry, I'll go with you…" he moaned and trudged into the bathroom. I headed for my closet and vanity.

After we were both ready, we headed for the car. "How about I drive?" I said, and he didn't deny.

It was only six a.m. and Manhattan was quiet. Or so I thought…
As I was sitting at the red light waiting, there were no cars.

"What the hell? Why's it red?" I could tell he was frustrated. Usually he would laugh at these things and be a bit sweeter; I guess six a.m. on a Sunday doesn't count.

"Calm down, it's just two minutes." He slouched in his seat and rubbed his face.

"There, it's green," I said stepping on the gas.

"Sh-" I yelled, not knowing what to do.

A car came racing towards us. His and my eyes locked, and I watched him die as we were hit.

The clouds were out and it was a chilly October day. It had been one year, I felt the dew covered grass in between my fingertips. I knew he was so close to me.

I want to feel him hug me. I want to see his soft, brown hair and beautiful face just one more time. I just want to fight with him one more time or tell him what he's doing wrong. To feel our lips meet.

Tears filled my eyes, but I knew I couldn't cry anymore.

"It's all my fault," I whispered as I ran my fingers over his engraved name, "I'm so sorry," A tear escaped and I felt the same emptiness I felt from when it first happened. I stayed there for hours, and then I finally got the courage to leave.

In the new car, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was as white as paper, much to skinny, and my hair was in desperate need of some dye.

I pulled up my jacket, and I looked at the scars, from those times alone in the bathroom, where blood running down my arm, was the only thing that took the pain away.

I remember, the first night back at the apartment, I had a break down. I threw things across the room, broke the broken computer even more, and screamed at the cats in bloody murder. The apartment was destroyed. Neighbors came knocking but I just lay there, on the floor, in all the shattered glass, crying myself to sleep and ignoring the pain.

I tried to commit suicide three times, but I never had the courage. I knew he would be ashamed of me, but I ended his life. It was my entire fault. I bought the cats that destroyed the computer I got him for his birthday, and I offered to go to the Apple store and I offered to drive.

If he would've driven, like usual, I would've died, and that's how it should have been.

"No!" I screamed. His face had glass implanted in it. Blood… so much blood. I embraced him, "Don't leave me! I love you!" He squeezed my hand and that told me I love you, too. Despite my injuries, I didn't care. I couldn't live without him. I loved him dearly. However, I knew he was gone.

"Your gonna be okay," Kassie said, taking a sip of tea. "He's gone…"I breathed.

I just sat there, staring out the window. I didn't move.

"Come on…! I know its hard, but, maybe we can go bowling… or… oh you like the picture-taking-thingy right? I can be a model!"

I didn't move. I just sat there. Looking over Manhattan. Looking at anything reminded me of him.

Cars.

Couples.

Computers.

Intersections.

And the cats. The poor cats did nothing yet everything. Pinecone and Sophie's innocent little faces yearned for love, but sadly, I had none left.

I remember, when the doctors were giving me his things left in his pocket. When they pushed forward the engagement ring, I couldn't speak.

I told him I always wanted to be engaged to on Time Square…

Wait… the Apple store is in Time Square… it couldn't be. Did he break the computer as an excuse?

I mean when the "cats" pushed down the computer, it only sounded like a pot.

"Oh. My. God…" He was going to propose to me and I didn't even know…

The thing was, I waited a year to get that. At first, I said I didn't want any of it. I didn't want the reminder. So, when I finally got the courage to come and get it, I realized I went through the worst year of my life for nothing.

That day, I petted the cats and gave them the fanciest dinner a cat could ask for. I finally felt a bit less guilty. I wasn't completely better, I'm still the one who was driving.

After the second year, I realized that he wouldn't like my behavior. I went back to work and stopped cutting myself. I was slowly healing. I went to his grave once a week, and I wrote him letters that I would tie to a balloon and send off to heaven. And in the oddest ways, I would somehow get a reply.

I loved and missed him dearly, yet deep inside I knew I was finally better. He was my one true love and I will never forget him. And hopefully, we will both meet again.