He sat there. He sat on the park bench staring at absolutely nothing and even though the sidewalk in front of him had people happily chattering along silence was amongst him. Memories of her were playing like a broken record inside his head. When they were introduced by his brother, when they would clasp each others hands, their very first kiss at the library she used to work at, how they told each other "I love you" every day, when he took away her innocence during the first rainfall of the previous winter, even the simple conversations they had wondering about life; he could remember it all. Abigail, his brown eyed and blonde curled beauty, he smiled as a picture of her face flashed in his mind.

Still only a fool would call it love, and our dear friend, Nicholas Jacobs a.k.a. Nick was no fool. He knew their relationship was far too good too last. He was barely 23 and she a mere 19, this was only a spur in the moment, of a moment we call life. A fantasy, a dream, and he would wake up and end it before it destroyed him.

Nicholas lifted up his sleeve and saw that his watch read 2:47 pm, Abigail didn't get home until six. Since he really didn't want to see her cry, didn't want to hear her beg, since he knew love was never meant for someone like him, Nick decided he would be gone before she stepped out the front door of her work. One last peaceful sigh and he removed his already numb ass from the bench and took off down the cracked sidewalk.

Everything was scattered with dead fallen leaves. Shades of orange, yellow, red, grey, and brown painted the whole city. People were colored in blue though; people were always colored in blue though he thought. Autumn was a season of falling, but for Nick he fell all year long. He fell for lies and games life handed to him like fools gold. He became adapted to this lifestyle though. Nicholas had learned to keep from getting hurt and he would stay like that forever. Always leaving before it was too late.

His feet hit the sidewalk a little bit harder with every step, the wind slipped between his boyish hair in need of a trim, and noise grew inside and outside his head. Still he walked without a doubt in mind, without a voice from his already iced over heart. Left turn, right, another right, down the street, and he arrived at the brick red apartment complex where he lived with Abigail. It wasn't nice, but it had been enough. Three flights up, in the room at the very end of the green hall he would find two bags filled with his only possessions. He would leave his feelings here, he would leave Abigail, and drive off to find something new.

He looked at his watch again, 3:05 pm; he had time to take the stairs. Nick walked up slowly and people that passed him looked at Nick like he was a ghost, an unwanted spirit. He didn't care, each stair passed felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, each step down the hall that smelt oddly of rotten eggs, beer, and cigarettes felt like an inch nearer to freedom. He stood there outside the door for a moment, remembering all the times he walked through it to find Abigail waiting for him; he'd always pull her in for a kiss before either of them spoke. That was no more, he didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.

The lock made a clicking noise and Nicholas walked into the room dropping his keys in the ash tray for the last time. That's when he noticed it, the smell, it was awful. He looked around and saw his and Abigail's room had a light on, the rest of the apartment was shaded grey in the darkness compared. Was she home? How? He had to leave, but could he stand to do it face to face?

He walked steadily to the room and noticed the smell getting stronger. He pushed the door open and stood in shock. His suitcases were on the floor open and empty, his items scattered everywhere; ripped and broken. Blood was on the bed making the blue covers seem red. The smell started to burn his nostrils and he felt his stomach turn. A pressure was building in his throat, and he collapsed to the ground puke leaking from his mouth.

He felt sick, he felt lost, he felt like an idiot. Why should he care, so she ruined all his stuff, did she honestly think that'd stop him from leaving? Then he noticed something, the blood, the smell, where was Abigail? He looked around and noticed the clump on the left side of the bed.

"No."

Nicholas got up and walked shakily to the place where they slept. He lifted back the sheets and there she lied completely nude. Her skin was cold and pale and her face had tears stains that mixed with blood. He put the back of his shaking hand on her lifeless cheek; cold, dead. His frozen heart shattered into a million pieces of ice. Nicholas saw a note with her handwriting on the night stand and carefully read it. Then reread it, and he kept rereading it until it finally sunk in.

I love you, I always will Nicholas. I know you want to go, so go. I'm sorry about your things, I was upset, please forgive me. I love you, and I can't live without you.

~Abigail

This was all his fault. He wanted to leave so he couldn't get attached, but now he knew his body would never voluntarily leave this room again. He stripped himself of his clothes while still shaking. That's when he noticed how cold it was. How cold everything was. In all honesty if he wasn't already so broken and filled with guilt, Nick would've been uncomfortable with this, but now after everything he couldn't care less. He lifted the sheets on his side of the bed and crawled in next to the lifeless corpse of his lover. He wrapped his arms around her and noticed the cut wounds across her chest, and how her right wrist was slit vertically. Some of the blood still lingered out of the injuries. He grabbed the knife that was held loosely in her left hand.

"Why are you such an idiot!?" he screamed at her and irrupted in tears. His jet black hair became wet when he leaned it against her golden curls that were sticky with the red liquid that was making him want to hurl again. He kissed his dead Abigail on the forehead and pulled her closer to him.

He gripped the knife tighter and slit his right wrist in a vertical line. Blood poured out and with it pain. He sucked in air and the tears streamed harder. It felt like hours, endless hours of laying there waiting. Memories of her were playing like a broken record inside his head. When they were introduced by his brother, when they would clasp each others hands, their very first kiss at the library she used to work at, how they told each other "I love you" every day, when he took away her innocence during the first rainfall of the previous winter, even the simple conversations they had wondering about life; he could remember it all. The world was lost in black smoke, and Nicholas shut his blue eyes for the last time. Red liquid streamed inside the room and outside a woman took a look at her watch, 4:59 pm, the minute a heartless boy died nothing but a foolish man.