I couldn’t decide what to wear. A nice, not-to-over-dressed dress, a pair of jeans and a tank top, or something more…exquisite? Making all those thoughts disappear, I decide on wearing something in between: a jean skirt and a remarkable blue top that I know Noah will love. He loves the color blue. I spray some Jlo perfume on, and slip my sandals on. I head downstairs, watching as my mom jumps for joy, my dad looking at my outfit with his fiery eyes, not liking what I’ve chosen to wear.
“Oh, I can’t believe you’re finally going on a date! With Noah!” My mom squeals, acting just like a child. Just like me on the inside.
Before I take a step, my mother snaps a quick picture.
“Mom!” I groan, and she puts her hands on her hips, giving me the painful look. I sigh and walk to the door, ignoring her glowering eyes staring right into my back. I look out the window; Noah should be here anytime. My parents walk into the Living room. I yell after them, “I’m going to wait outside.” My mom shouts back and I grab my purse, heading outside.
Never did I know that I would watch Noah striding down in his slick car towards my house get hit by a drunk truck driver going straight through a red light. Never in my life would I expect this to happen.
I drop my purse, my hands automatically going to mouth.
Oh no. No. No!
I scramble over, letting the unwelcome tears start to pour out. I stop at his car, seeing the drunk driver through my blurry vision hanging out through his front windshield, blood dripping down from his head. His truck banged right into the driver’s side door, and Noah’s car went spiraling over.
I looked through the passenger side door and saw Noah, blood covering his whole body. His body is limp; his eyes closed, his lips parted. All I can smell is blood. And gasoline.
“Noah?” I sniffle. No response. “Noah!” No response. Nothing. Then I hear a cough and watch as Noah’s eyes slowly, but cautiously open and look up at me.
Oh. My. God.
His arm is bent in a weird figure and his legs are sprawled out in front of me, glass sticking out of one while the other has its ankle twisted.
He extends his hand for me and I clutch it with all my might, not thinking about the blood, but only about him. He was the only thing that mattered. Noah saw my face soaked with tears, and he lightly reaches up and wipes one away. I feel the smear of blood as his quivering hand searches for my unsteady one.
“Don’t cry,” He murmurs. I can’t help but cry even more. He rubs my cheek with his thumb and lightly runs it over my lips. I taste his metallic blood. Noah’s blood.
“We—I have to get y-you out N-Noah. Gasoline is leaking and I—” he cuts me off by shaking his head. I whimper.
“Noah, you’ll be fine. Y-you have to be. I-I love you, Noah,” I stutter. I see his face try to lighten up, but there is just too much blood. Noah is in so much pain.
“Lil, I—” All of a sudden, I’m pulled away. I screech, scratching at the hands that hold my waist, yelling Noah’s name. I hear the person swear. The hands let go and I rush back to Noah, but I’m suddenly grasped by two sets of hands. I fight, and fight, and fight. But as I struggle, they hold on tighter.
That’s when they pull me far away from the car just in time to watch it burst in flames. The people cover me, other people screaming. Other people have been here the whole time? None bothered to help me?
I push the people out of my way, which happened to be police officer’s and look at Noah’s car, remembering his smiling face, his care for only me.
He’s gone. Noah’s gone.
I want to run over there, hoping he somehow got out, but knowing he couldn’t. I want his protective arms wrapped safely around me, knowing he’s fine, but he’s not. He’s gone. Dead.
“No!” I scream. He can’t be gone. God wouldn’t take him from me. He wouldn’t take him from me! “Noah!” I dash past the officers, heading for his car, the car that I was just in this morning.
“Grab her!” I hear my mom yell. I try to run faster but my legs give in and I fall to the cold, harsh ground. I put my hands over my eyes and bawl, feeling a million arms embrace me, protect me.
How can he be gone? Noah? My Noah?
Why was he taking from me?
I love him. Noah, I love you…
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Like reliving each day will take away the pain I still yearn, the pain of losing the one I love most. But Noah would want me to move on, get rid of the pain that haunts me in my dreams.
He was always mine. No one else’s. I should’ve realized that in the beginning.
Today’s the anniversary of his death: October 16. His one year is almost over; another one to begin shortly. He will never be forgotten.
There is a knock on the patio door and my mom approaches me. “Ready?” I can see her expression, the dark circles lying under her eyes. I nod and she leaves, giving me my personal space. My own space with Noah.
I look up at the sky, the same sky that was there the day of his death. But instead of a frown, I smile. I smile because looking up at the sun for a brief moment, I see Noah. And he’s smiling right back at me.