My Eng teacher is crazy about romance (it didn't help that we're going to read Romeo and Juliet), so she made us write a short tragic love story. This is what came out...

The italicized part is a dream/memory of the past.

"Everyone smiles when they're around you. So when I'm gone, smile, too," Anna whispers softly, weakly. She smiles bravely for me, her eyes soft, the light in them starting to fade.

I hold my sweater against her side, hoping that pressure will stop the bleeding. I can feel sweat beading up on my skin as panic took a hold of me. This can't be happening. I love her. I love her so much, but I'm unable to do anything as she lies there in pain, growing weaker each second. I'm so completely useless. I can't get us out of here and I can't contact anyone. There's no reception here. I grip her tightly, hugging her, trying to keep her here, to make her stay when I knew it was futile, but I still hang on, stubbornly refusing to let my precious little girl go. Burning tears slid down as I shake my head violently, not exactly refusing her request but fiercely denying her impending death. "I can't smile without you!"

She buries her head in my shoulder. I could feel her sad smile. "Smile, Mommy."

I move back a little and see the level of maturity in my baby girl's eyes just before they dulled, eyelids slowly sliding shut for the final time. Something breaks in me. I stare, not wanting to believe, not being able to believe it. Anna is supposed to grow up, go into that rebellious stage, leave for college, discover her passion, find that special someone, and grow old with the love of her life. I'm supposed to die first. Not her. Not my little girl. I touch her slowly cooling face, fingers curling around her cheek. "Anna?" Then, I wait, honestly believing that she would answer. Anna can't be dea—gone. "Anna," I say louder, thinking that she didn't hear me the first time. "Anna." I start shaking her gently. "Anna, wake up, honey." Anna's eyes are still closed. She feels cold, so very cold. Her skin is like ice to my hands. "Anna." My voice gets higher as fear sets in. "Anna, Anna! Look at me! Say something! You're scaring Mommy!" Hysteria rises up, burning a hole in my heart, and I'm yelling by the time I finish, my sanity starting to crack. This can't be happening. Oh god, please no. Tears blur my vision, covering the image of my baby's pale, pale face. Her undeniably still chest. Her rapidly turning blue lips. Her cold, ice-cold, skin. I bend over with the weight of the realization that Anna was gone as my world crumbles around me, anguish eating me alive from the inside out. An agonized, bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, echoing in the empty room, ringing in my ears. Drops of liquid hit the forever expressionless face of sweet little Anna whose body I was clinging to for dear life. I lift my head up and let out a low heartbreaking wail of agony and hopelessness, trying to scream out the crushing, hollow pain in my chest. Darkness and pain close their claws around my fragile mind. I curl over the deathly cold body of Anna, hugging her to me, sobbing brokenly over and over again, falling apart, going crazy.

Suddenly, it's dead silent as I stop, an idea forming in my agony-crazed mind.

Getting up, feet move me mechanically to the open four story window, my precious Anna cradled lovingly in my arms. The waves down below crash violently against dangerously sharp rocks at the bottom of the abandoned building. Putting one bent knee on the window sill, I look down at my little angel and smile gently.

"Mommy's coming."

I shot up in bed and cry. I just cry. It had been three years since Anna's murder, but I still had nightmares. Anna's killer was in prison, where he'll be for the rest of his life. He was caught some time after he locked us in that room. I didn't know why he didn't kill me, too, but I still wished he had. I wished I hadn't survived that jump. Suddenly, I felt arms slowly sliding around me, holding me. Lemmy pulled me to him as I kept sobbing and I clung to him as if my life depended on it. This man, for some reason, loved me. I told him that I could never love again, not after what happened with Anna. However, he still loved me. No matter how much I screamed at him to leave, he never left. He knew I needed someone there for me and, deep down, I knew that, too. He had been here for the last three and a half years and he still hasn't given up on me. He started stroking my hair, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. I cried harder, feeling sorry for me, feeling sorry for him. He still hugged me as I exhausted myself, falling into a deep, troubled sleep.

I woke up because I couldn't stop shivering. I was surrounded by something cold. My eyes shot open, only to be met with cloth. I moved back and Lemmy's arms fell from where they were wrapped around me. There was something wrong; I could feel it. I looked at the calendar on the wall. Today was December 7, Lemmy's birthday. Lemmy once told me that he had a rare genetic disease that will kill him when he was forty.

Today was his fortieth birthday.

I stared at Lemmy, at his pale face, his undeniably still chest, and his empty eyes, and I remembered Anna. Liquid burned in my eyes. I knew he was dead. My heart cracked, twisting and screaming, as it shattered into a million pieces, dropping into my stomach, cutting up my insides, pain searing through me. I curled into myself, trying to desperately hold myself together, to keep from completely losing it, clinging to that last strand of sanity. My head shot up, my eyes wild, and I threw myself against the wall and ripped up the calendar, telling myself no, no, no. I smashed my head against the wall, screaming, crying, anything, anything to just make it all stop. He was gone. Anna was gone. There was no one left. He was the one who picked up the pieces when Anna died. Now, he was gone. I couldn't take it anymore. I collapsed, falling onto my back. There was blood running down my face. I closed my eyes. There will be no one to save me now. No one else would come to this house until tomorrow morning, but by then I'd be dead.

And maybe... Just maybe I did love him after all...

After reading this, my friend wanted me to complete this, write how they got trapped in that room, why the killer was after them, who the hell was Lemmy, etc... but I don't think I will.