Despite my fear of not making it in time, she doesn’t fade away quickly or peacefully. She struggles for breath several times as I grip her tightly to me, talking her through it the best I can, doing my best to maintain and be the strength she needs during her very last fight. She keeps my eyes the whole time, every second, trusting me wholly to help her through it as I try to soothe any discomfort. Each unmerciful bout breaking me a little more until she stops struggling altogether.
WHYYYY!? MY HEART. MY SOUL. IM DEAD. IM BROKEN.
