"I want to sleep." She says lightly, walking slowly beside you.

You take a deep breath in; shuddering as the cold air fills your lungs and makes them burn. You knew this was coming. But that doesn't mean you're ready for it, or even that you want it to happen.

But she's never asked you for anything.

She stops walking, and you stop too, to take a look at her.

She's not even there anymore.  Her eyes are blank slates, slits, where once smiling joyful eyes of life once where. They're red and puffy around the edges, and you know well that they're constantly wet from bitter tears. She always walks with her head down, her hair blocking her pretty face. She's pale even though you try your best to make sure she gets sunlight every day.

She's gone and this shell of her is all that's left. You miss her more than you
can bare, and this ghost of what she once was doesn't understand that. She makes the motions of a life, moving like a white flicker of light through her waking hours. She's not alive. She's just moving. Moving silently and you wish all the tears that you yourself once shed would bring her back.

She's ready to sleep, and even if you're not ready to see her go, even if you refuse this request of her, you know she's going to go. She's gone already, you realize sadly.  You won't deny her anything she asks for anyway.  You just can't do it.

You brush some of her hair behind her ear and run a finger down her pale cheek.

"I'll tuck you in."
~*~

You brush her hair like she's a doll, dragging out the knots that she's been too tired to comb out herself.

She so tired, and she looks it, with sullen white cheeks and her red rimmed eyes. You're both tired, you're exhausted from years of trying to be happy for her, trying to make her happy. She's tired of trying for something that's no longer inside of her.

You can't take seeing her flame gone. She had such a passion for life, it makes your heart ache to see her like this. Your heart has been aching for years.

You pin her long hair up with her favorite jeweled pins that you had bought her before this all happened.

She wants a little make up, so you give her the tiniest hint of blush and gloss. She almost looks alive, and she smiles.
*~*

Her family stopped caring long ago, and she's been with you for all this time.

"That makes it easier, I think," She says to you as you fasten on her necklace. "You'll be at work, and it'll be okay, okay?"

You're not sure that you want her alone during this, but it's her choice, so you smile and nod. She smiles back, and you know you're going to miss her.

She sits on the bed and beckons you closer, to sit with her. She stares at you for along while, etching your every detail into her memory for all eternity, and you do the same.

"I'm going to sleep now," she says, "Okay?"

It's not okay, but you kiss her lips sweetly and squeeze her hand.

She says goodnight like she always does before you go to work.

You smile at her and close the door.

**
That night at work, anxiety hits you like an avalanche of cold snow, making you sit up straighter and shiver.

You've always had a problem with leaving her alone at night.

You pass the hours at your desk, flicking through a photo album instead of doing the spreadsheets that you know are due tomorrow evening.

She was there, she was smiling and laughing. He was there too, your best friend, and now he's looking down, smiling at you.

This was what she was before the accident, before the tiny lifeless body being pulled from her, before you best friend fell asleep long before his time. Before everything went to hell.

You remember it vividly; the screaming, the blood, the pleading that he hang on and wait just a little bit longer. He didn't want to go and he hung on until the edges of your own sight were fuzzy and you could distinctly hear the wail of a ambulance.

You wonder why you've become so selfless and caring. If you had been selfish, if you had dragged her away from him, she would still be here. He would still be here. You wouldn't feel so disconnected. But you loved them both, and wanted what was best for them, and that wasn't you interfering.

You shiver again. You can't feel her anymore.

~*~
When you get home around midnight, it's absolutely silent in your tiny two bedroom apartment. You step into your room and see her, laying beneath a duvet covered in stars and moons against a dark, spacey background.

She's cold. Not quite the deathly cold, but she's cool, as if the heat in the room wasn't on- which it isn't, you realize.

Her heart's not beating.

You blink.

The blush does wonders for her pale, turning paler, cheeks, and she had seemed to put on some red, red lipstick. She looks like Snow White, and you know she's much fairer than that idiotic fairy tale princess.

You almost wish that your kiss would bring her back, all big blue eyes and real smiles that made her dimples deepen.

You take her hand and kiss her knuckles one by one before laying her hand over her middle.

"Goodnight," you say, and you leave, shutting the door behind you with a light click.