I Murdered My Best Friend

I believe a soulmate doesn't necessarily have to be a lover. I believe that there is such a thing as two souls intertwined, without them needing to have sexual intimacy. I believe a soulmate is someone you can connect with on deep levels, someone who gets you when no one else does, someone you trust with all you are. Soulmates, friends, partners; simple as that.

She was mine. My other half. She was the person I shared everything with. If I told other people I'd keep their secret and wouldn't tell anybody, I'd always tell her anyway. Because she wasn't just anybody. She was my best friend.

Rosie was my polar opposite. Where I was short and sweet, she was tall and intimidating. She loved the rain and I adored the stars. She liked the yolk and I liked the egg white. She was fond of classical music and rock was my cup of tea. It was hard to believe we were soulmates.

However, we do have one thing in common; our long, black hair. It's silky smooth, wavy, and black as ink. It was our treasures; until she lost hers.

I don't remember when it started happening, but it was gradual, like a sunset. Except it was never as pretty.

It started with her skin. She seemed to be getting paler and paler. Then her cheekbones started to sink in. Dark circles started appearing underneath her usual twinkling eyes and her smiles started turning grim. She seemed to be getting smaller and so was my confidence that she was fine.

Every time I asked her what was wrong, she'd smile and say, "What's wrong is that you're too cute," or, "I stayed up late last night thinking about you."

She never could tell me what was really going on. I knew she was hiding something, and I grew more annoyed as the weeks went by. We've never hid anything from each other before. So why now? Doesn't she trust me?

It was Friday night when it happened. We had a sleepover and it was exactly that: a sleep OVER. I remember being in her bathroom, looking for that extra toothbrush I always had at their house.

My hand knocked something over.

It was pills. Anti-depressants.

"Rosie?" I called, "Would you come over here please?"

"Yeah?" she said a few seconds later. She stopped when she saw what was in my hands.

"What is this?" I asked her and she made a grab for it. I snatched it back.

"Why are you taking anti-depressants?" I was getting angry.

Rosie hung her head. She whispered something and I didn't catch it.

"What?" I asked as I leaned my head forward to hear her better.

"I said I have a heart disease!" she yelled and when she looked up her eyes were filled with tears. "I'm depressed and I'm dying."

I couldn't believe my ears. My world stopped. My head felt light. I wanted to throw up.

"How long?" I clenched my jaw.

"I don't know how long I have-"

"How long have you known?" I yelled, my heart threatening to break itself.

"Six months," she said softly. "I meant to tell you, but I didn't want you to stop living because of me."

"Stop living? STOP LIVING?" my voice was getting higher and she flinched. "I've died everyday because you didn't laugh as much. I've been a walking zombie because my best friend wouldn't even look at me in the eye and tell me what's wrong!" I was screaming now, but I didn't care. I was angry, angry that she would keep something like this from me.

"I thought we were in this together?" I walked up to her. "We promised, Rosie. Through life or death, it's always us. Didn't you trust me?" I was hurt.

"I'm sorry-" she sobbed and the sound broke me. She sounded so frail.

"I need to get out of here," my voice cracked as I ran from her.

She called my name and I never looked back.

I cried through the night and when I woke up the next morning my mom told me Rosie had been rushed to the hospital.

My world fell apart a little more.

I rushed to the hospital and I remember running in a daze. When I got the the second floor, I dashed through the hallway, calling her name.

"Rosie!" I screamed. Because her name was my strength.

And right there, I saw her running to me. She had a hospital gown on and I could see there were still tubes connected to her arm. Shocked voices sounded behind her as she ran to me.

She called my name, and collapsed.

I caught her body before it hit the ground. "Rosie?" I whispered in shock. She gave me no reply, nothing but a small smile gracing her lips.

And as I bent my head to grieve against her still chest, my world collapsed completely.

"I'm so sorry."

How did I murder her, you may ask? Well, I was the reason her heart gave out. As soon as I called her name, her heart had accelerated and when she ran out, it simply gave up. By the time the doctors came to shock her, it was too late. I was too late. I was too early.

I called out her name too early. I apologized too late. I murdered her.

That was three years ago. I think she heard me. I think that maybe, just maybe...

She forgave me.