Where are you?

As the sun's rays break the horizon and fill the grounds with their golden light, the girl wonders. It's late spring now, nearly the end of the school year. The sparkling dew soaks through her thin T-shirt and her jean shorts as she lays there, waiting.

Please come.

She thinks of the boy and how he reminds her of the sunshine, of the pool, of summer. His hair the color of fresh soil, falling over his eyes and constantly having to be brushed away. His eyes, a bright, sky blue, reminding her of rain.

They're so similar to each other, yet so different at the same time. Books and school. That's what they're mostly known for. But he never draws attention to himself (he still doesn't) and is often forgotten when put with his friends. She is the best friend of the town hero, the one who saved them all. She is never brushed off as just another student. The dew glistens around her, dampens her chocolate curls, so much like the shade of his hair.

I'm still waiting.

Summer is supposed to be fun, warm and inviting, pleasant. But sometimes it is harsh, the burning heat rippling through the air and making the days nearly unbearable. She hates wondering about the season, but she contemplates it anyway. Summer, like winter, is one of those subjects that you can't help but wonder about.

She just can't understand how someone who is supposed to represent summer, a time of laughter and fun, could be so serious.

He likes it that way, though, she thinks.

If she were to be honest, she would say she likes autumn better, though, because winter is too white and summer too green. And although spring has brightly colored blossoms and new life sprouting everywhere, autumn contains a sort of magic to it that no other season has. The beautiful colored leaves are entrancing in their own way.

But she still loves and enjoys the summertime anyway, just as she loves him.


Somewhere, a long way away, she imagines her best friends, on the field and playing a soccer match—running around on the dreadfully slippery, wet grass and kicking the black and white ball around. She imagines her best female companion, a huge soccer fanatic, and everyone else cheering for their team, hoping for one last victory before the end of the season. She smiles, her eyes starting to glaze over and become glassy. At that moment, she wishes she could just stand up and run back to where they are now, cheering them on to get one more win for the year, despite her distaste for the sport.

But she can't, because she's stuck, waiting and waiting and waiting forever and ever and ever

Because wishing will never get you anywhere. It just reminds you of the things you can't have, the things you will never do, or see, or achieve...

Aren't you coming to save me?

There are soft footfalls near her, but she can't see them nor hear them as she stares up, almost unblinkingly, at the sky, which reminds her of his eyes…

She flicks her eyes toward her left and sees the gleaming silver of the knife sprawled a couple feet away. The dark crimson matches the color soaking from her side. You don't deserve to die like a human, they had sneered. Born a monster, die a monster. But she isn't a monster. She's just a regular girl. A girl with strange powers. Powers that had accidentally hurt (killed) someone…

And for that, she was punished. Punished by her own schoolmates, brutal seventeen-year-olds with no concept of moral values and no sense of right and wrong. They punished her for who she was, for her mistake. For the accident that couldn't have been prevented, because the Fates had snipped that boy's thread. She had no control over it…

But they had punished her anyway. She tries to make up excuses for them, out of the pure kindness of her heart. They were scared of me. Afraid. It wasn't entirely their fault, it was mine. I didn't—couldn't—control myself…

But she is wrong. It is their fault, because they know exactly what they had been doing. They know what murder is. And they had committed the heinous act anyway.

Please come.

It hurts to die alone, outside and where no one can see you. She won't cry but she starts to lose hope that someone—anyone—would be there. But she hangs on to that hopeful thread, that he'll come to save from this and make her better so she can run and laugh and be with him again.

She realizes that he isn't here, and probably never will be.

I'm slipping…

Slipping off the precarious cliff of life that she hangs onto by just one hand… Her heart still beats, her lungs still breathe, and her mind still turns, but everything seems to get colder, even as the sun warms the grounds and slowly dries the grass and makes the shiny dew disappear.

A rustle stirs the silence. She doesn't hear it.

She does hear, though, ever so faintly, a voice calling to her from beyond, desperately asking her to stay awake, don't die on me now, not after all we've been through, please—

Just the wind, she thinks, just the wind mocking her in her last moments. She's too exhausted and sleepy to be angry, though, so she just smiles.

He's here and he's come to save me from this he's here he's here he's here—

And then his face appears above her, looking just like summer, eyes wide and frantic, shining with fear and desperation. Though her own eyesight is blurry and everything blends together, she can clearly see his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs gleaming like stars, pleading with her to look into them and say she's still alive, please—

Of course, she thinks, but doesn't say aloud. I always will be…

As long as he wants her here, she'll be here, right?

Safe, now…

The pain has ebbed away and the cold has disappeared and all she feels is him. She feels his lips on hers, however briefly, and it reminds her of a warm breeze, the kind that warms your soul on a chilly evening, the kind that moves the stars and rustles the trees in the way a mother affectionately ruffles her child's hair.

Perhaps he isn't like summer at all, but like autumn. His arms feel cool but comforting. His body is warm as he holds her. His tears bring back memories of the late October rains, the kind that makes the ground soft and quiet, and she tries to concentrate on his voice, listening to him say it's okay, it wasn't your fault, they shouldn't have punished you, they shouldn't have hurt you—

But they did, and she bears the consequences of her actions now, no matter how intentional they were. She relaxes her body. Her eyes close, letting the tears in them fall away. She smiles, the corners of her lips turning up ever so slightly…

She hears him sob, but it's far away and she can barely hear him pleading don't leave me, please, I love you—

A light breeze drifts by, a brown leaf crinkles past—and then... nothing.

Too late.