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It took time for him to do it—took him time to even let the idea wrap around his head properly. Right before it was time, right before he was certainly ending his life she had gripped his hand and whispered, “No matter what,” Her look was stern and her grip was tight. “you cannot stop.”
But realistically he wasn’t even sure if he could start. And then they sat in silence and watched the rain fall heavily out their shared bedrooms window. The quiet dulled his senses and he found himself just staring—fixated on the big clock above the dresser. It was time—“I love you.” He mouthed quickly tipping his lips to meet hers. “More than I could have loved anybody else in the entire world. That is the only reason I’m doing this. For you.”
In the end he was surprised to see that she hadn’t struggled at all. And if it was any other person in the world they probably would have, but the way she went—well—it matched her personality to a tee. He wore the scratches for days and sometimes caught himself scratching over them so they wouldn’t fade as quick. But when he had held that pillow, that pillow over her face, the life and soul left him too. And it was like half of him was gone. Half of his life torn from him… he had killed her. And every day it killed him.
-
When Liam had first met Zoeey he'd made a complete fool of himself. He drunkenly knocked her over by the karaoke machine spilling her drink and a basket filled with chips onto her as well—well he had wanted to die. If he could have wrapped himself up in his coat and let the ground swallow him up then she wouldn't have seen the red flush in his cheeks.
She never told him, but that flush was what made her ask him to sing a song with her. It was what lead her to ask him back to her place for drinks. And that familiar rosy red was what allowed herself to just say yes. When he asked her to move in with her. When he asked her to marry him. When he had asked her to love him.
He had accepted that song together even though he hated to sing in front of anybody besides him cat. And in turn ended up taking a step towards his future. That night he had sighed to himself and taken a tentative step towards her on his way out, pleading with his thoughts to just stay inside his head. “I loved your voice,” she said. “will you sing for me again?”
He found himself nodding quickly and running his fingers quickly over the newly buzzed area on the flat of his head. He's not sure why he said he would sing for her again, because every time she asked in the years following he had hidden his face into the nearest cushion or pillow and begged her to just let it go. But somehow she always got her way, and he'd end up singing some soft country balled that she had loved since she was a kid.
-
If you think about it any person who has just killed someone—someone they love—with their bare hands normally have something frantic to think about. Where to put the body, maybe they shouldn't have done it, what was going to happen next?
But Liam, Liam hadn't even moved from the bed and his mind was tumbling back to their wedding day. It had rained that day, and although it wasn't an outdoor wedding the walk from the cars to the chapel was enough to soak through the thin white fabric that covered the decorated chairs.
The chairs were white with purple bows, and Liam actually found himself chuckling at the thought. Because they had spent two months trying to pick an exact purple and come the day the shop only had one in stock. He remembers her crying in the middle of the store because, “Our wedding is going to be ruined now. I wanted orchid Liam and this isn't orchid. Orchid is a mauve. A mauve! And. And. Hey, stop laughing at me this is serious.”
He'd just smiled after that because he could marry her in a paper bag in the small hallway of their shared flat for all he cared. He'd marry he next to his desk at work, files pouring onto the floor and all.
So the chairs never really matter but it always stuck out to him. They were always stuck there in the back of his mind, because when they were old and grey he had wanted to be able to use that color at their 50th anniversary.
They often told others that they had got hitched in a court house in lue of any money they begged to not spend, just because the day had ended so disastrous. Of course it really wasn't, but Zoeey had confirmed it every year on their anniversary. The flower girl had thrown up right before walking down the white carpet, she had tripped a little into her fathers step, and he had burped right before the vows.
It was all a real laugh. But now as he looks back on it. There is no laugh, just a small twinkle in his eye. With that Liam leaned over very carefully and took hold of Zoeeys hand with his larger one, and with the other he gently shut her open lids.
-
The next morning Liam gets up from the couch and showers quickly. Finds himself tumbling out of the shower to crouch in from of the proceline bowl and throw up nothing. Nothing but his regrets--memories from the day before.
He can't call them regrets because his love for her was stronger than anything he's ever felt in his entire life and he would do anything she asked, even did this.
He takes his stubborn feet and walks into the kitchen, flicking on the light, filling the kettle and sitting down with a piece of blank white paper in front of him.
He just stares at it until the water begins to scream.
-
The day she was diagnosed was the perfect day. The perfect day for a picnic, the perfect day for a wedding, the perfect day to go on a boat ride. Not the perfect day to find out that the person you love is dying. And there is nothing you can do about it.
“Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.” Is what the doctor had called it, and he remembered her giggling and asking him to repeat it to her. It wasn't funny but he had laughed along to, just because he liked to hear her laugh. She wasn't suppose to get it. It's so unlikely that someone her age would get it at all, but the doctor confirmed that it was possible.
She would start to forget things. Within a month the doctor had said she probably wouldn't even be able to remember where she set her keys down at. Wouldn't be able to remember where she parked the car after a few minutes in the shop. And within two months she wouldn’t even be able to remember Liams name.
A month after that she wouldn't be able to walk or feed herself. And then it was just a waiting game, when the disease would take her.
She doesn't know, but when they got home and she went for a nap. Liam cried until he heard the door open. And he hasn't cried since.
-
The first letter Liam writes is to his mother. He tells her that he loves her and that he loved Zoeey so much more. He doesn't know what he would do without her, but he's about to find out.
The second letter he writes is to Zoeeys mom. He just tells her that he is sorry, and if she hadn't asked, he would have never done it.
The final letter he writes to himself. Something that he can read in ten or twenty maybe even thirty years from now.
And then Liam calls 999 and waits for the police to show up.