Perspective

4 » Fourth Horseman

I laid the single daffodil in front of the headstone, trying and failing to blink the tears away. She was supposed to live a long life. She was supposed to go on and be successful. She was never supposed to die.

It had been my fault. If only I had told her where I was going. If only I had stayed home that night. If only I had never been born.

She had died a year ago. The most perfect girl in the world had been dead for a year already. Somehow, the world managed without such a godlike creature for a year. A year had already passed, yet I knew what people were still saying about it.

"I can't believe she died." No one could, really. The concept of death was impossible to truly fathom, even if someone close to you experienced it, even if you could reach out and touch it.

"What's more, I can't believe that it was she who died, not her sister." If I could have traded places with her, I would. There was never a day during which I didn't think that I'd rather die than live without her.

"It's such a tragedy." The world had always been full of tragedies. However, her death had never been a tragedy. It was the end of everything before her. The world could never be the same without her.

Through my blurry vision caused by my tears, I managed to catch a glimpse of the outstretched handkerchief. I took it without so much as a thanks or even a glance at whoever was offering it to me. There were far more important things to focus on at that moment, such as how my sister's death was all my fault.

"She would never have blamed you."

I could have laughed at that. I could have asked her how she could have possibly known that everything was my fault. I could have denied it. The fact was, I could have done so much, but I never did.

I don't know how much longer I stayed there. After all, everyone's perception of time is flawed. No one ever really knew how much time was left; everyone always believed they just had a little more. They were always wrong. When I finally looked up to leave, however, I saw her.

She was wrong. If the tortured look on her face meant anything, then there was no one to blame but ourselves.