Walls

First story I ever wrote so unfortunately it's not fabulous.

This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

He had to come early.

He had to try to surprise me.

I blame him.

Well, I mostly blame him.

I saw the pearly gates, the streets of gold and met the angels. I was promised comfort and closure, but neither came.

The angels sent me here. It’s very strange. A whole room with nothing but a chair and four black walls.

Not a single soul but mine, no doors, no angels; just me, a chair, and the walls.

When I first came here, the angels brought me to this room and told me to have a seat. I sat down and I asked the angels “Why am I here?”

One of the angels looked down at me, grabbed my hand and simply said “You will understand”

And before I knew it, I was alone.

I panicked. I ran in circles, screaming, slamming the walls, trying to find the door.

And that’s when I heard it.

A voice that I never thought I’d hear again.

It was him.

“But how? Why? How is that even possible?”

I turned around to see that the wall the chair was facing had turned into a screen, and his face was on it as if he were in a movie. I sat on the floor with my face in my hands and wept. I didn’t want to see him. It was his fault I’m here, why would the angels torture me like this.

Then I heard a sound I had only heard once before. I pulled my head up and opened my eyes and saw tears falling from his eyes.

And that’s when I realized what I was watching. He was at the hospital, next to me, holding my hand.

“I’m not dead yet? Then why am I here?”

So here I am now.

I’ve been sitting in this chair for days, watching him sit next to me as others come and go. He hasn’t said a word to anyone. But every time he found himself alone with me (or rather, my body) he would kiss my hand and would barely whisper “I’m sorry, I love you”

No one but him and I know the whole story of why I’m here.

He was supposed to get to my house at six o’clock, and it was four-thirty. I thought I had time. I went to my room and grabbed my razor. I went to the bathroom but left the door open (strike one). I started small: one tiny thin line. But it was a bad day so I dug a little deeper (strike two). And that’s when it happened. I didn’t even hear the door open. I looked up and saw his face frozen, horrified. That’s when I stopped paying attention (strike three). I’m not sure how it happened but I looked down and saw the blood streaming and I faded. (I’m out).

I blame him. Ever since I came to this place I blamed him. If he hadn’t been early, if he hadn’t just walked in.

Wait a second…

No that’s not possible.

Did the walls just become darker?

They did.

But how?

Wait, he’s talking.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry. I didn't think...I never thought...Just please don't leave me.”

It wasn’t completely his fault; if it wasn’t for my sick habit, none of this would’ve happened.

The walls changed again. But this time they’re lighter. They’re no longer black.

They’re grey now.

I don’t understand.

He’s still talking.

“...You are my everything. Please come back to me. I will be better. I will do everything for you. I swear.”

He doesn't need to be better. He’s perfect. He always takes care of me and holds me when I need him. He once showed up at my house with flowers and my favorite movies when I was sick. He made me dinner and rubbed my neck. He takes care of me. He never needs to be better.

The walls are still getting lighter. Why are they doing that?

“...spend my life with you. You’re all I want, forever. We had plans and they can’t end here.”

We did have plans. We were going to get married, have a family, spend our lives together. We were going to live in a small town, have dogs and cats. We were going to love our children more than we love each other. And no matter what we were going to stick together.

But now we don’t know if that is possible. I could be dead in a matter of minutes, hours or days. I may never go back to him.

I so desperately want to be back with him.

The walls that started out black are near white now.

I don’t understand how that happened. I have no idea how any of this happened.

There’s a knock on the door. I hear it open, then close, but I don’t turn around. I don’t want to take my eyes off of him.

“Do you understand now?”

It’s the same voice I heard when I first came to this room.

I turned and saw the angel looking down at me.

“No I don’t. Why are you putting me through this?”

“The walls are almost white again, which means you’re close.”

“Close to what? And what do you mean ‘again’? They were black when I first came here.”

“They were white before you walked in the room. The black was simply your anger.”

“My anger?”

“Your anger at him.”

The angel pointed at the screen and I turned back to see him. The face I have loved for so long now; the face I’m not willing to leave yet.

“I was angry at him. I blamed him for what happened. I felt it was all his fault. If he hadn’t come early everything would be fine.”

“He blames himself too. You are only allowed to return if, or when you were able to forgive him and understand it’s not his fault. When the walls turn pure white then you will be ready.”

“But why do I have to wait?”

“When you return it will be your responsibility to comfort him and help him understand that it was not his fault you ended up here. If you can not do that then you will stay here, and he will find someone else.”

“No! He’s mine! He will always be mine! He would never love anyone else like me. Send me back to him.”

“Why should I?”

“Because none of this is his fault, and he deserves to know that. He deserves so much better than I was to him. I want to be better for him. I want to love him right. I want to love him how he loves me.”

The walls turn white and the angel smiles.

I open my eyes and turn my head. He’s asleep next to me, still holding my hand tight.

I whisper his name.

He opens his eyes and smiles.

I tear up and begin weeping. He takes me in his arms and all I can say is

“I love you.”