Part 1

She stands there, waiting.  What is she waiting for?  We shall never know.  Her look is blank, and deep.  As if she knows all, that’s happening.  Slowing turning towards the sunset, a single tear trickles down her cheek.  That single tear reflecting all she is, all she was, and all she wants to be, but now.  Things have changed.  She must move on, away from this pain.  She must go far, far, far away.  Where has she gone?  She’s gone home.

 

Lilly never had had a chance in that world, in that cruel, terrible world.  She was too soft, too nice, and too caring.  She was the only one who truly cared if you were home ill.  She was truly concerned, not just morbidly curious.  She would call you frantically on your home and cell-phone until you picked up.  Then she would insist on coming over with whatever she could.  When she did come over you almost had to make yourself better by just feeling guilty for putting her in such a state of fright.  No one ever quite knew why she cared so much, but I’m starting to get the picture.  She was scared of death, her own and yours.  Why was she so scared of death?  Everybody dies right?  Thinking about it now though, I’m wondering if she knew more than the rest of us.  Maybe she knew what death would bring.

 

Yes.  Lilly understood what she was doing when she did what she did.  I’m talking about when she jumped off that bridge and drowned.  She knew exactly what she was doing.  What was she doing then?  It’s a secret, strictly confidential.  The reason I won’t tell you is… Well if I told Lilly not to tell she wouldn’t.  I’m trying to keep the Lilly saga alive.  I know she’s already dead.  I was there when it happened.  So how can I keep her alive?  In spirit, that’s how I will keep her alive.  She’s right next to me.  I feel her, sitting there, waiting.  Yeah, she’s still waiting.  Waiting for… No, I shouldn’t say.  See that’s another thing I promised.

 

Ha-ha.  You’re asking why I speak of this world as that world.  Don’t you remember?  I’m a psychotic 14 year-old.  I think I’m still in my little world, because I am.  I will not accept this world… because I’m not really here.  I won’t accept that world, because I’m not there.  I’m far away, still with Lilly.  Yes.  She’s still waiting.

 

It seems just a short while ago.  I’m talking about Lilly’s death of course.  She told me not to tell you the story, but I never promised, and anyway.  Someone has to feel her pain besides me, it’s excruciating.  So here goes, we were walking on the bridge.  The bridge she jumped off, the bridge that killed her.  It was just a short while after we had become friends, best friends.  We were walking, singing, and skipping, down the sidewalk, when.  It happened… she was hit by a Ford F-350.  Why do they even allow those things in the city nobody needs them.  Lilly really didn’t need it… it smooshed her, it smooshed her like a bug under a shoe.  I heard the bones snap, her scream.  Then as I ran into the freeway to help my friend, the F-350 continued on down the bridge.  They had barely slowed when they hit her, but now they were speeding away, such terrible people they were!

 

Even though she was smeared in blood and obviously in pain she told me, “Don’t tell them, and don’t tell them the promises.  We came here for a reason, and I’m still going to fulfill that reason… help me.”  I helped her to the side of the bridge, she heaved herself over… and that’s the last I saw of my dear friend Lilly’s body.  I see her everyday though, in spirit.  Soon I will join her and we shall be best friends again.