Creative story

You never really understand a person until you consider things from their point of view, climb into their skin and walk around in it.
I looked at her, the most beautiful girl in the world, lying lifelessly in my arms. I don’t know why she took her life, I don’t know if I ever will. She was so perfect; beautiful and clever. She meant the world to me and she didn’t realise as much.

I kissed her forehead and laid her on the bed that we once shared. I removed her ring and placed it on the same hand that mine was in the hope I could regain something we once had: the promise of forever and eternal love. I held her hand, it was ice cold. Her heart, the one thing she had promised me with, the one thing which pumped blood into our relationship, had stopped. She lay on the bed in her white ivory gown, clutching a bouquet of flowers her mother had given her.
  “Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.” Her mother said handing over the sapphire hair pin and placing it carefully in her hair earlier that morning. Her eyes were filled with tears when she continued “I guess my little girl is finally growing up, Lucy, I love you and you’re so beautiful.” They were the last things she every said to her baby girl.  I don’t know what went wrong. I blame myself, if only I could’ve been there to stop her or tempt her out of what she was doing, persuade her in some other way that what she was doing wasn’t for the best and that I’d help her. But I wasn’t there for her, I didn’t help her. I wasn’t there when she needed me most. I’m the reason for so many peoples heartbreak and misery. I’m the cause of everything. Every argument we once had, although they were few and far between, I wish I could’ve taken everything back so that perhaps she’d be alive now to tell me she loved me one last time.

I remember her screams, I remember so clearly, but I could never have predicted the outcome of what would happen. Her sister called the police immediately but as soon as I ran to her hotel room, it was too late. I screamed, tried to resuscitate her, cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I shouted at everyone to leave us alone, that I didn’t want to be with anyone.

  “Lucy, You are my lover and my teacher, You are my model and my accomplice, And you are my true counterpart. I will love you, hold you and honour you, I will respect you, encourage you and cherish you, In health and sickness, Through sorrow and success, For all the days of my life.”  But what good is it if my vows, my long term promises to the girl I solemnly love,  now lay as broken and lifeless as she is.

I pulled the duvet over her and tucked her in,  untied her hair and let her curly brown locks fall down her neck. She was still so beautiful. I took the bouquet of lilies from her grasp and placed them in my pocket before kissing her forehead and leaving the house. It was raining, the perfect pathetic fallacy my situation needed, the weather described me perfectly. Every little raindrop lumbered down and burst like little bombs of ammunition attacking the ground. I walked out the house and to the road where I continued. I shouted at the sky, “Why her, why not me, she was an angel to me and its not fair you take her life to ruin what's left of mine. You’re so selfish taking all the best people for your own. I hate you.”

Finally I got where I wanted to be, the bridge. i climbed over the side and onto a narrow platform, took out the bouquet of flowers and held the image of us earlier that day at the wedding. I stroked my finger over her face and told her that I loved her before walking slowly to the end of the platform. I looked down, thousands upon thousands of litres of water cascaded down below my feet. I took a last glimpse of my Lucy and jumped. My life flashed before my eyes. Then, nothing. 

I don’t know why she took her life, I don’t know if I ever will.