I hate seeing you like this.

You’re slouched against the foot of our bed, desperately gripping the needle that only moments ago was embedded in your arm. A small, broken smile playing on your lips as you watch me walk over to you. I kneel in front of you with tears in my eyes and gently pry your fingers open. You let the needle fall to the floor and clutch at my hand instead.

“Please don’t leave.”

Your desperate plea tears at my heart. “Never.” The tears are rolling down my cheeks now. You reach up to gently wipe them away. Your hand lingers on my cheek, unwilling to break the contact, and I bring my free hand up to rest over it. “Why? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

You look down and pull your hand away from my cheek, but I quickly tilt your head back up, not letting you escape. “I hate seeing you do this to yourself.” You’ve been on the edge for months now, getting worse as each day passes, and I’m at a loss as to how I can help you.

“I know,” you say softly.

I sigh. Your tone is apologetic. It always is. I know you well enough to know that you’re only sorry to see me upset.

You hold onto my hand, playing with my ring. I hold your hand tightly, stilling your fidgeting fingers. I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth as I remember the day you put that ring on me. Our wedding day. We were so happy then.

“I love you.”

My eyes travel back up to yours. I place a gentle kiss on your lips and whisper, “I love you too.”

“Will you hold me?”

The words are steady, but your eyes give you away. You’re so broken. I wish I knew how to put you back together again. Instead, all I can do is nod and shift so I’m sitting beside you. I pull you into my arms and instantly feel you relax against me. I gently stroke your hair, telling you how much I love you.

You smile -that smile I love so much- up at me. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open now. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” I say sadly. I hold you tighter as your eyes slide closed.

“Hello?” I glance up at our bedroom door. Kyla. “Hello? Spencer?” Her voice is getting closer. “Spencer?” The bedroom door opens. “Oh my god. Spencer?” She’s beside us in an instant, feeling your neck for a pulse. She runs out of our room, and moments later I hear her talking on the phone.

It’s not long before the paramedics arrive. I stand beside Kyla, watching helplessly as they work on you. They’re wasting their time. You never wanted to be saved, and you made sure that you couldn’t be.

I kneel beside you once more as your eyes open and you smile up at me. Despite my sadness, I smile back. The pain and brokenness that was in your eyes minutes ago is gone now. I know I should be upset with you for this, but I can’t. I know I would have done the same thing if it had been me in your place. I brush a lock of blonde hair away from your eyes and lean in capturing your lips with mine. “I missed you.”

End.