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Whiskey Lullaby
"Get away from me," She sneered at him, pushing him a few steps back, "I don't ever want to see you again."
Tears streamed down his face as she packed her things. She was actually leaving him. After all the fights that they made it through, and after all the love they shared, she was leaving him. How could she just leave? He didn't understand it.
He watched her go, the sight of her retreating back burned into his memory. She was gone now, and she wasn't comming back. How could he have just let her go without a fight? Mentally, he kicked himself.
From that day thereafter you couldn't find him in a state other than drunk. He drank bottle after bottle, trying so hard to rid his mind of her picture. Trying to get rid of her memory. Of all the memories they had together, all the good and the bad. He loved her so much.
Life without her wasn't the same. He missed her. The nights were long and cold without her next to him. He didn't think he could live without her any longer. So he made the decision that no one should have to make.
The next morning he was found dead, a note laying beside him that read, "I'll love her till I die." He was buried underneath the willow tree where they shared their first kiss.
Rumors, horrible, unbearable rumors flew through the town like a wild fire. She blamed herself more than she'd ever blamed anyone for anything. It was her fault that he died. She was still so in love with him, she just couldn't stand being treated the way he treated her.
Going through the cubbords in the house that they once shared, she found his stash. Totally abandoning her previous goal of cleaning out the house, she unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig. The liquid burned, but she instantly felt a small bit better.
She sat there, on the couch they found him on, drinking the whole night away. So many things were on her mind, mostly revolving around him. She couldn't live without him, she finally realized. If only she'd realized that before he killed himself. She sat, clinging to his picture wishing he'd come back, but knowing that it would never happen.
She was drunk. And she knew what she had to do. She had to be with him, whether it was in life, or in death. She went to her room and got her small tool out of the breif case under her bed.
Looking at his picture one last time she kissed it and whispered those three little words that can mean the world to someone. And then there was a gunshot.
She was found with his picture in her hands, and everyone understood, though no one could believe it. He killed himself because he couldn't live without her, and she killed herself because she couldn't live without him. She was buried next to him beneath the willow. Together forever.
