Death of Love

A Story by Amaya

Just a one shot...

Jake pressed his forehead to hers. She was dying in his arms, and there was nothing anyone could do. The beep the machine gave off with her heart rate was getting slower and slower.

His wife, Kayla, of four years was dying. His little spit-fire was dying. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him.

“If you don’t want to be here, I understand,” she whispered.

Jake shook his head. “I couldn’t stand it if I left you now. I would never forgive myself.”

Kayla turned her head. “It’s sunset,” she whispered. “The thing I most remember about our honey moon was standing with you on the cliff, watching the sun set.”

Jake had to smile. “I remember that- along with all the sex.”

“That too,” she agreed. “What time is it?”

“8:30.”

Her hand closed weakly around his. “Please, don’t leave me,” she begged.

“I won’t,” he promised.

His little spit-fire. The first time he had seen her was six years ago. She’d been in her last year of collage before graduating wit her bachelor’s degree. He was on his masters. They had mutual friends and had ended up meeting in a café. In an attempt to ignore the all out war going on a few tables down with said friends, they had talked. Jake had learned she hadn’t gone out with anyone since high school, her favorite color was blue, she hated even the smell of coffee, and was 21; all in that order.

He hadn’t gone out with anyone in six months, his favorite color was red, he only drank coffee if it was half cream and sugar, and was 23. The war had progressed and he’d asked her if she wanted to go get lunch somewhere else. She’d agreed, and they went out again a week later.

The name spit-fire came around when he’d seen her fight with some jerk that she’d dated in high school. The jerk had called her a spit-fire that didn’t know her place. Jake had stepped in and said she was a spit-fire; and that she was in her place.

“What are you thinking?” Kayla whispered.

“The first time we met,” he answered.

That got a small laugh out of her. “Anna had a hard time forgiving me for getting a date while she was fighting with her boyfriend. But she finally did because I did get a boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “I’m sure that made perfect sense. I just don’t know how.”

“She was mad because I had something to do with males as she was fighting with one. But she was happy I finally did find a male to get along with.”

She let out a sudden hiss of pain.

“Kayla?” he asked, worried.

She shook her head. “It’s just my ribs. I’ve gone numb almost every where else.”

That didn’t calm him. “Kayla? If you can survive the next 12 hours… please just keep living.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she answered.

“Please,” he begged.

She let out her warm breath against his face. “If I can, you know I will.”

“Thank you.”

She didn’t speak again for awhile, and Jake was content to just feel her warm breath on his face. They’d both made mistakes over their relationship. She’d cheated on him. He’d almost made her leave him more then once while he was being a possessive jerk. She’d more or less crawled back and apologized, not expecting forgiveness, which he’d given. He’d finally learned to trust her. Not once over the six years he’d known her had he ever stopped loving her.

Kayla didn’t want to die- not when she would leave Jake. Damn him, he was more then she deserved. She’d cheated on him for almost three months. He’d known the whole time. The scene where she’d finally asked for forgiveness played through his head.

Are you going out tonight? Jake asked. She looked down as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. She added the soap and shut it.

Are you? he asked again.

I got a movie today actually. Maybe the two of us could watch it?

If he’d said he was busy with work, or wasn’t in the mood, she would have left the next day.

He was silent for a moment. What happened to Drew?

He was a jerk, she answered almost silently. I made a mistake with him.

Jake put his arm around her. Let’s go watch that movie.

They were both still lost in thought two hours later when the nurse came in.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Kayla, checking the instruments.

“Fine,” considering the fact that I’m dying.

“Do you want some pain relievers?”

“No thanks. I don’t really hurt.”

The nurse nodded and left.

Jake couldn’t let go of his wife. He couldn’t give up hope. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry now. She looked terrible- bruises, broken ribs, internal bleeding, crushed wrist. Even if she survived, her wrist would never fully heal. She had been hit by a drunk driver- and it had been five o’clock when that happened.

The driver was dead from hitting a brick wall.

Jake checked his watch; it was 11. Kayla was half asleep, her breathing shallow. He shivered slightly, the room was cold, and moved closer to her. Her hand closed around his.

Time seemed to stop as he stayed close to her, not sleeping but not paying attention to anything beyond Kayla and his own thoughts. Around four he woke enough to move so that the doctor wouldn’t have to work around him.

He continued to hold her hand as dawn broke, and when it did her heart stopped. He heard the nurses and doctors rush in, but he couldn’t see past the tears.