Luna Latera, Sides of the Moon # 19

Chapter 19 - Depression

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Daemien's POV
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I prayed, I prayed so hard. I think everybody did. Please don't let her leave.

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Celeste's POV
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I walked forward, my hands flaming in front of me, "Hello?" I called into the dark void around me. There was no echo. I ran back, well, tried to run back. I could feel the grass between my toes, cold whispers under the soles of my feet. I ran as fast as I could, and then- I heard them.
Footsteps. Chasing me.

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Daemien's POV
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I stood hugging her pale lifeless body in my arms, willing her to open her blue eyes. I looked away from the nurses, concentrating only on her face. It was too late, the doctor had said, she won't wake up. It's best if we just stop the machine. "Do it." I whispered, my tears landing on her pale cheeks, and with that the line went flat.
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I lay adjacent to the small casket, close enough to touch yet... so far away. I held her cold hand, running my finger up and down her palm. Dead. Every time some said that word my heart stopped, I couldn't breathe, tears would well up. It was such a hash, cold ending of a word. It was the end of life.

Funny isn't it? Just a month ago, I could kiss her, talk to her, watch her laugh, cry or smile. Now... it's gone. I hate them. I hate the Luxicans who gave the order and the armies that followed them, my father for helping them. But most of all I hate myself, a deep self loathing. Sorrel comes in every once in a while, he puts down some soup and bread. It always looks warm but I never eat it. I wait until the bread is stale, and with the cold temperatures of this room it only takes a few hours. Only then I eat a small chunk. What's the use of eating? Eating fuels living, but I don't want to live anymore. What reason do I have to stay alive?

They have cameras in here. They watch me, always, like a hawk. I have the pills in my pocket, four bottlefuls, crammed into my pocket. But I can't do it when they're watching. They say I have depression. Of course I'm fucking depressed! She just frickin' died! And I killed her. The last time I saw her, alive, I ever even said anything nice. I ignored her calls for help. I ignored her helpless scream until it was too late. It was me who should be dead not her, me.

I just woke up. There's a cup of hot chocolate and some toast on a plate. A small note, I don't touch it. I don't deserve to. I know what it says. And I don't deserve to hear those words. Words like: It's ok, we'll get through this. Or, Celeste wouldn't want you to be this way. What the hell do you know about her? They say it'll be alright. They say we'll talk our way through this. They say Celeste would not be happy about my behavior. I'm also selfish. I'll be truthful, I don't care whether she's happy or not about my actions. I deserve to be punished anyway, whether she likes it or not.
I know they want me to leave here. To leave her side. To leave her alone, by herself, in the cold and dark coffin. But I'm staying here, until I join her in the coffin too.

Today they took my measurements for the funeral. Mom's worried. The guy says I'm getting anorexic. The truth is I can't stomach it. I feel sick all the time. I can barely stand. Perhaps the end is near.

They dragged me away today. Into the infirmary. They're pumping liquid food into my body. They've put cameras around again. They also took away my pills. I feel sick. Sicker than sick. I'm in agony. Why is she so far away?

I've gained weight. Mom hides her worries behind a wry smile. It's thin and her lips are cracked, I'm worried about her too. She makes me eat with her. I take fluids as well as solid food.

The funeral dates been planned. The ceremony is being held at the Celestial Fires, where she was named, where I was going to ask her if she would - oh god. Is it too much to ask God if he can give her back to me, just for a day?

I'm better now. I have a room opposite the casket room. They still have the cameras up. I go there a lot. To talk to her. She never answers. I take blankets with me (doctor's orders) and I have to lie on an electric mattress. Where are you?

Dear Celeste,
Are you in a happy place?
Is it warm?
Is anyone else there?
Say hi to my great-aunt Morida.
Have you made friends wherever you are?
Do you remember me?

Dear Celeste,
Your funeral is in a week's time. Would you like it colorful or solemn? Happy like you or pure like you? Beautiful as you or as fun as you?
I love you. It's too late to say that isn't it. There's really no point. Have you moved on? Are you lonely? I am. Is 'heaven' pleasant? I'm not gonna ask about hell because there's no way you're going there.
I love you.

Dear Celeste,
Six days to go. Some girls came to see you today. There were four of them. Crying buckets. I think they were with you when we first met. Do you remember that? It feels like such a long time ago. Remember when you asked me not to dig my nails into your leg when it was a tranq dart? And when you set 'tweed lady's' head on fire?
I miss you.