almost. something so significant about that made her chest churn— made her skin crawl and made her insides squirm. we were almost beautiful. and almost meant to be, and almost together. she loves solitude. she's never meant to be a lover. never planned to be one. she never see herself as one—or atleast deserving of it. she never wanted to be somebody's. but here she was, walked into love with nicky, with eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. but if she could, rachel would go back to the moment just before we met— she would find you about to cross that road by the lamppost of that bus stop and tell the version of herself there that soon fell inlove with you while with nicky all about all of this. tell her let's go. and maybe tell her to run, to never look back. she tried to change. closed her mouth more. but she can't make homes out of someone— she knows that. but it's for nicky. it's for you. why? she don't know. maybe it's cause she's cursed. maybe she couldn't really live a life. but maybe she's just making a wrong choice. so when she finally gather enough of her soul to say it, cause her heart isn't really there for nicky— she said no to nicky's proposal, much to nicky's confusion and heartbreak.
and she knows she made the right decision—it's for the better— she wasn't any sure about nicky no more. she don't want to be a liar or a selfish woman if she made a choice she knew would only make them suffer. she don't want that for nicky. but nicky... he grew to hate her. us. her heart couldn't beat. her ears couldn't hear. eyes stuck on your still body. everything had stopped but her legs kept on moving, and she hurts her ankles— her breaths erratic and sharp, shallow and gushing with dread.
her hands are shaking, trying their very best to be delicate but all too desperate to reach you as her wobbling knees gave out before she could even get to you, and she crawls on all fours— her own bloodied fingers are trembling, shivering, afraid to touch you— like you're a china doll, like you would break. "look at me—stay with me. stay with— stay—" rachel sniffed. her hand, cold and trembling, hovers over the gaping wound on your lung—punctured by the bullet of nicky's gun. she squeezes her quivering lips tight, presses the back of her hand against her lips, sobbing soundlessly through her chattering teeth and tries not to scream, shout, curse, or anything. tears falling in heavy thick drops like the rain. but she holds on as much as she could— try to help you, the silver wedding bands glaring stark on our fingers. we're fine— we're fine. we're fine. "please. please."