Twilight had always been her least favorite time of day. She watched as the sun was torn from a crimson tinted sky. Shadows crept eerily across dead grass, seeking out and extinguishing light. The trees swayed as daylight exhaled her final breath, and then darkness fell over all. The only creatures that grieved for the day were the crickets.
She had reached her twilight, she thought. She contrasted it in only one way; she would leave more than insects to mourn her.
Her parents still believed that she would pull through. She wanted so badly to heal, to see the worry leave their faces. But she couldn’t do the impossible. Occasionally, they would sit at her bedside and tell her how proud they were. She would lay there and listen to them, trying her very hardest not to cry because she had to be brave for them. She wished she had more courage.
Her boyfriend would be upset, too. The thought of what he might do to himself scared her. Remembering his desperate cries of, “Don’t leave me,” and “I couldn’t live without you,” brought chills to her spine and tears to her eyes. She regretted telling him what the doctors said. When he visited, the two of them wouldn’t speak. They would just sit and listen to whatever music he had brought her this time. She hoped that he would move on.
It was difficult, feeling so ill all the time. The only advantage that came with a hospital bed was the sense of solitude it provided in the long hours of darkness. That sort of atmosphere was ideal for thinking on nights like that one, when the room was too cold, the night too quiet. She thought about what she was putting her family through. She thought about her friends. She thought about all of the things that she wished she could redo. She thought about bravery.
Somehow thinking was harder than usual that night. A peculiar sort of tiredness welled up in her. She was neither sleepy, nor exhausted. She was simply tired.
She was tired of fighting, and of being brave. Tired of sleepless nights and medication filled days. Tired of watching her family suffer. So tired.
It was then that she heard it. Two solitary words, seemingly carried by the wind, that eased her burden, and set her free.
“Let go.”
Perhaps it was the silence of the hospital finally getting to her, or perhaps it was a whisper from an angel. Whatever the case, she heard it, and obeyed.
She lay there peacefully and breathed her last.
Then came dawn.