Here is just a little one shot that popped into my head while listening to the song forever and always by parachute the other day, I am working on chapter two of my fanfic All’s Fair in Love and War, but I just wrote this in the meantime. Thanks for reading! xx.
Song: Forever and Always by Parachute
Time and again in people’s lives, they ask themselves the question ‘what if?’ Though it may be the most appalling cliché in the book, the question is definitely impossible to avoid. I try to circumvent over used clichés as much as I can for the purpose of attaining my originality in a world jam-packed of people seeming to have been copied and pasted straight from magazines, but like all others, this subject sprints through my mind a lot. What if… What if…
Nothing can change the outcome of it, no matter how much I would like to. That doesn’t matter at all anymore. What matters is that it happened and I can never go back.
Her picture continues to haunt me. Her laughing smile, bright blue eyes, long hair cascading down her back as she runs along the beach. This is by far my favorite picture, because this is the girl I would like to remember.
She was happy with my lifestyle, and she accepted it. She didn’t mind having to video chat me and only talk on the phone while I was filming. She said as long as she knew I was still hers, she didn’t have a worry in the world. And I was still hers. I always will be.
People tell me I need to move on, but how can you move on from someone so special that gave you so much to remember?
Trick question; you can’t.
I just persist to maintain a fake smile for the fans and my family and try to not let them see how much it tears me apart.
Maybe I need time, but time isn’t exactly in my favor. Every time I try to move forward in life, the minute hand on the clock begins to tick counter clockwise and I am taken back to that night; my favorite night.
I remember it so vividly that if someone were to ask, I could tell them every detail all the way down to the color of her toe nails.
It was the night that I asked her. I asked her to marry me. Though my career and way of life is difficult to have a family with, we were both willing to try. I remember getting down on one knee, her eyes glossing over with joy, and her hand springing to her mouth in awe.
I remember my exact words, “I want you forever, forever and always, through the good and the bad and the ugly, I want to grow old with you, and never forget the love we shared, and will continue to share. Will you marry me?”
I spent hours on those words. At one point I had three pages full of a carefully crafted proposal, but Andre convinced me to keep it simple, and luckily it did the trick.
My favorite detail that I remember was the look on her face. Pure happiness. And I remember counting the amount of times she said yes.
I couldn’t have been happier and neither could she.
We looked at houses, planned the wedding, everything was in full swing. We were only on the first page of our little fairytale, and there was so much to look forward in further chapters.
Our fairytale expanded when we found out about the baby. Though we didn’t intend on having a child before the wedding, much less did we even talk about having kids until the dust of my career settled some, regardless, we were happy. We were extremely happy.
While the blissful memories hit me frequently, the nightmares are what keep me in this never ending labyrinth of memories. Every night I wake in a cold sweat and my pillow is damp. Every morning I trudge out of bed, forcing myself to wake back to reality and pull myself back together. Day after day I ask myself the question, “how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?” and so far, I haven’t found the answer.
The nightmares are about the last night. The night I grow to despise more and more as the days progress.
I remember this night like it happened just hours ago, maybe because I relive it every night as I sleep alone in this king sized bed.
I was waiting at home for her to arrive from work. I told her I had big news and I was so excited to tell her, so she promised she would hurry home. That promise is a promise that I wish she wouldn’t have kept.
I had gotten a part for a movie that she knew I had been wanting for a long time now, and we had been counting down the days until the call as to whether or not the role was mine. Earlier that day, the call finally arrived and I couldn’t wait to share the news. I could have waited; anything worth having is worth a wait.
I waited and waited and waited.
Her work was only in downtown LA, which was 10 minutes from our house, but the clock kept moving, and she was still gone. I thought maybe traffic, but even with traffic, the drive doesn’t take hours. And then it happened, the call.
The call I could recite to you word for word. That one little phone call is permanently etched into my brain, never to be forgotten.
There has been an accident, please come to Memorial as a soon as you can.
We’re sorry sir, but you should come right now. Thank you.
And then the line went blank and the only sound to comfort me was the familiar dead line beep at the other end of the phone.
After weaving through cars and nearly running three red lights, I reached the hospital and busted through the double doors.
A nurse with sympathetic eyes led me through the maze of sterile walls and tile floors until we reached the commotion in the hallway surrounding room 102. This isn’t her room. She isn’t going to be in there. She is fine. Stop worrying. I thought. But I was wrong.
I shoved through the group of employees huddled around the door and slammed the handle down.
She was there, lying on the bed, wires connected to her body, and oxygen strung through her nose with a continuous stream of life-saving gas entering her body. Her body was lifeless, but her chest still rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. The continuous beep of the heart monitor was the only thing keeping me from falling into unconsciousness.
This was a dream. I completely convinced myself that I was asleep at home and had dozed off waiting for her to arrive. But I hadn’t, and this was my reality.
Reality. It sure does have its way of kicking you in the ass when you are least able to bring yourself back up. With my Mockingjay release, my fame and life was at an all time high, and I was flying in the fast lane of living until the cop of time, better known as reality, pulled me over and gave me the ticket that would change my life forever.
I darted to find the doctor and ask what had happened to her. He explained to me that a semi truck driver had crashed into the driver side of her small BMW as she sped through an intersection and was in serious condition.
I’ll never understand why things happen the way they do. Maybe that is one of the major “what if’s” in life. What if something happened this way, or that way? What if I did this instead of this? Questions we will never find answers to, but always ask again and again.
I left the doctors. I was tired of hearing medical terms that I couldn’t comprehend in my mental state of being, and I just wanted peace.
I walked slowly back to her room and shut the door behind me. I kneeled beside her and held her hand and cried into the ruffled white sheets.
As she woke, she gently squeezed my hand and I looked up at her smiling face. Not her genuine smile, but a strained smile full of ache and discomfort.
She told me she was ok, and that she was going to be fine, but I knew better. I made myself strong for her, and held my thriving emotions inside and told her that I knew. That strength I have lost since then, and I do not know where to find it to take it back. Maybe one day it will reoccur, but until then, I remain weak and stuck in the labyrinth.
She held my hand for hours and I talked to her, she mainly listened. I told her that when she got better, we would go out to our house on the hillside, and watch our new baby play in the yard with Driver and Sebastian, our newly rescued Dalmatian puppy, and we had the wedding to look forward to. She nodded and smiled, but her smile started fading and her laughs got softer. I went and grabbed the doctor and as we sped walked back to her room, I asked him about the baby.
I thought the news was as bad as it could be until his small sentence turned everything in a whole new direction.
We’re so sorry, Mr. Hutcherson. The baby didn’t survive the impact. Then he disappeared behind the heavy metal door of her room, shutting it before I could enter.
My world stopped. Yet another cliché, but as in my world stopping, I mean it stopped. The only thing I see is the metal door standing in front of me, that seems to get further and further away the longer I stare at it, and all I can hear is the millions of memories of her laugh, and her voice as they pace through my head.
Though my heart continued to beat, and time continued to tick on, my world was crashing around me. I lost my first child before I even got to see his face, and I was on the verge of losing the love of my life.
My fame and my money meant nothing to me now. All I wanted was for the doctor to bust through the door and assure me that she will be alright, or maybe even wake from this nightmare. But neither of them happened and my world continued to crumble.
I fall beside her door and hug my knees as I wait for the doctors to retreat through the door. I bow my head and do something that I don’t normally do, in fact I haven’t done it in so long that I fear I have forgotten how to do so properly. I prayed. I prayed for whatever higher purpose or power is up there to please heal her, to please just do what he needs to do to make her better. I’ve already lost the baby; please don’t make me lose her too.
But there was no answer.
The doctors came out moments later and they let me go back inside. They didn’t tell me any details; they just said she was calling for me, and to make this worth while.
I knelt beside her, held her hand, and listened closely as she spoke softly.
“I love you forever, forever and always, through the good and the bad and the ugly. Please always remember that, even when I’m not there. Be strong, and never forget the love we shared.”
I remember her words, an echo of my initial proposal, and the tone of her voice, everything about those three small sentences. Her voice was soft and sincere. And then the beeps got too slow, and her voice was too low until the beeps stopped completely and just like that, our little fairy tale came to a conclusion and there was no more words printed in our book. No happily ever after was written; much less given a chance.
It’s hard to forget someone who meant so much, and gave you so many things in life. How can I move on when her fingerprints are still on my heart, and her voice still resonates down to my toes and her smile lives in my eyes, and every time my mind wanders, it goes directly to her? She gave me a reason to stay grounded through my fame because she was always there waiting for me and holding me down like an anchor at sea. She was my anchor, but the rope holding us together had broken and I’ve drifted away, leaving her lost at the bottom of the sea. Her memory and pictures being all I have left, and I will hold onto them forever & always.