Limit: 2,500 words

I lingered in the doorway that day, the day I thought she'd gone for good.

She was pale from lack of sunlight, thin from eating less and less as the days had gone on. Her once stunning, sunlight-gold blonde hair now seemed dull in comparison, not at all like it'd used to look.

The most startling difference however, to me at least, was her eyes.

They had been this deep, rich, brilliant shade of the most beautiful ocean blue, filled with laughter, with life. Now? Her eyes were all but husks, empty, miserable husks. One of the only things she could still do was blink, open and close her eyes. She could breathe, she could swallow, that was about it.

It had been the worst period of my life, the worse six and a half years if ever lived through, purely because all I'd got to do was watch her degenerate everyday, watch as she weakened and became unable to move, to talk.

She was so, so different now from the woman I'd fallen in love with all those years ago, back in college.

And yet, still, even now, especially now, I loved her more than I could ever express.

I couldn't bring myself to go into her room just yet, I had too many images flying through my mind, too many memories surfacing just from looking at her face.

It was strange I guess, how even now, when she could barely move at all, that Melody still managed to look as if she was in deep thought, as if she was working out all the problems of the world in that amazing mind of hers, oblivious to the problems she faced before her, oblivious to everything and anything that could hold her back.

She hadn't changed much since she'd been diagnosed with Motor Neurone disease, either.

Melody had been determined to continue living her best life, not to let something so daunting, something to terribly damning and incurable, hold her back at all.

She'd first been diagnosed when we were both 32, five years out of college, where we'd first met.

We hadn't been roommates, but we'd been roomed near each other, our friends had known each other vaguely, which was how we'd first come into contact.

I can remember the first time I spoke to Melody clearly, almost as if it had only just happened the day before.

It had been in the hallway that connected the dorms, we'd all made plans to go for a drink, to celebrate the end of the first semester, to celebrate our survival so far.

I'd heard about her, from my own roommate Jess, who knew Melody already, and had told me that she was 'exactly my type'. Of course, I hadn't believed that at all, I mean, come on, what did Jess know about my 'type'? Hell, what did I know?

When I saw her however, I was star-struck. She smiled at me as she turned, her eyes dancing with glee, her face alight with it. Her hair was cut short, choppy yet still glamorous as it always seemed to be. She'd walked towards me, and I felt like I was in a dream, like I was floating towards her on a cloud.

Her voice was musical, it fitted her so, so perfectly. "Hi Katie! Don't think we've met, I'm Melody by the way, I guess you probably know Marsha already." She nodded behind her, to her own roommate, who was in my Web Design class.

It took me a few seconds to realise she was expecting a reply, and a bit longer than that to formulate one. "H-hi, nice to meet you, are you coming to the, um, the bar?" Kill me. How awkward was that? The stuttering? I could've melted from embarrassment right then, right at her feet, on the spot.

Melody hadn't even seemed to notice, she just offered me yet another sunbeam-smile and nodded enthusiastically. "Sure am, I think we're going right now?" She turned to ask Marsha, but she wasn't there, neither was Jess. They'd both started away already, leaving us to get introduced.

"I guess so, let's go?" I'm really not sure why she made me so anxious, so nervous, so embarrassed so quickly, it wasn't like me at all, but I couldn't help it, I really couldn't. It felt like there were butterflies in my stomach, like my heart was working overtime suddenly, beating fast enough to outpace a Formula 1 racecar.

And that had been the start, our first meeting.

From there, we'd only grown closer, gotten to know each other better and realise how similar we actually were.

Around her, I felt like all the stars in the sky were mine, I felt on top of the world, like I could do anything at all. She was just so perfect, in every way possible. From her smile, to the way she quirked her left eyebrow when she was talking about physics - her passion.

I pressed my back against the wall, my hands pressed up against my eyes now, fighting to keep the tears back as all those images, all those emotions welled up within me, even though I'd managed pretty well so far to keep it all in and hidden.

It was over the past year that it had started to get really bad, less manageable.

To begin with, we'd both acted like it wasn't a thing at all. We'd went on our weekendly dates to the park, went out for a fancy meal every other Thursday, stayed up late into the ungodly hours of the morning watching soaps with nothing but each other's company, and it had been just as amazing as always.

We'd danced at Lenny and Marsha's wedding three years before without a care in the world. We'd gone hiking the year before that, with nothing but a slight stiffness to hold us back.

Life had continued, it had been just as great and amazing as always, nothing drastic had changed at all.

And then, suddenly, the cracks began to appear in all their terrible, terrible glory.

It was small at first, just things like her legs not working like they once had, a twitching in her hands that wouldn't go away and would sometimes spread up her arms instead. Nothing too jarring, nothing that would stop us from continuing as we were.

I knew Melody was in discomfort, it was obvious in her face, the way she looked at herself in misery, like she had been betrayed by her own body, her own flesh. She never let on though, not once. Melody wasn't like that, she was too determined, too stubborn to ever complain about how this disease was holding her back.

It took a lot of my willpower not to breakdown in front of her, especially the day I'd had to rush her to hospital in the back of my car because her speech was slurred and her legs immobile. But, I'd done it, somehow I'd managed it, I kept strong for her.

I pushed off of the wall, steeling myself as I prepared to walk into her room, sit by her side before I went off to work as I always did.

That was another problem that had arisen; money.

We'd lived in a semi-detached house, with moderate bills we could pay with ease since we both had reasonable jobs. But, when Melody became unable to work, when the disease began to really take its toll on her, she'd been forced to leave, to quit despite how much she loved the job.

We'd moved after that, to a smaller house, a bungalow in a nondescript neighbourhood. That had been last year, and even now it still looked brand new, not really lived in, only three rooms occupied by anything other than the furniture it had come with at all.

My heart thudded in my chest as I walked into that room, like the first time I ever laid eyes on her all over again.

I sat slowly, gingerly by her bedside, and carefully reached over the duvet to take her small, frail hand in my own.

My Melody. My gorgeous, brilliant, spectacular Melody.

To me, she was just as gorgeous as back then, she was just as spectacular as she'd always been. Nothing had changed, I loved her as unconditionally as ever.

How could I ever stop loving her? How could I take my heart back when I'd given it to her all those years ago, in that hallway, outside her dorm.

She was the love of my life, and now she was going to be gone forever.

My breath caught in my throat as I coughed back the tears.

Gone. She was dying. This was it. She wouldn't be around much longer.

The thoughts were a vicious, malevolent whirlpool twisting and turning through my mind, a vortex of despair that was only worsening the more I thought about it.

How could I go on without her? How could I go on without my Melody?

These were all thoughts I'd locked away, kept out of my mind so that I could stay strong, but now? They were flowing freely, the dam had broken and there was little I could do about it.

Her chest rose and fell in a shattered rhythm, shallow and not at all regulated.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

It was terrifying to watch, truly terrifying. I feared each exhale, in case that was it, in case she was gone as I was so sure she would be soon.

I just held her hand, my own shaking more than hers ever had as much as I tried to still it.

I couldn't, I couldn't do this, I couldn't be strong for her, not today, not on our anniversary.

The tears leaked from my eyes silently, coursing down my face to land on my knees, the floor. I leaned towards the bed, pressing my forehead to her hand, and for the first time in six long years, I let myself cry.