She sits on a heart monitor in the bed next to me, which I know nothing of. Her luscious brown hair drapes across her rosy-cheek face. She looks porcelain, and at peace. Silently, I watch her chest expand and decompress. Her mouth opens and closes with every breath she takes until it stops.

The flatlining echoes through my brain, and it haunts me that I will never be able to give her a sense of happiness again. I am supposed to be the one dying and the human who will be missed. Not her cute smile that would light up anybody's day or her beautiful hazel eyes that would glance at me suspiciously of who I am. We have a romance that has yet to begin.

If only I could go back in time, and change everything that happened maybe then we wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't be here, watching her.