Romeo's Death: Juliet's Viewpoint

Juliet

   I felt your warm caress. Your arms were like a vice around my body, gripping onto me for dear life. I felt your every tear drip on my still cheek, and I could taste the saltiness that lingered upon my lips. You were sad, bu I didn't know why. I wanted to reach out, comfort you and tell you that everything was OK, that I could make everything OK. But I felt as if my body were frozen in time, as I watched you put that small vial to your lips. My mind was screaming at me to speak, but I was physically unable to form the words with my lips. Although I was aware of every single thing around me, my body had not yet caught up with my mind. I was willing you to wait. Just one second more and we'd have been OK. But you poured the deadly liquid between your parted lips, and all I could do was watch.

   My entire body finally awoke from the spell it had been put under, and I did my best to revive you. But it was no use. You were dying. That apoptotic dance was gliding up and down your body, rendering you nothing but a corpse. You were - are dead. Your eyes were wide open, but the spark was gone. Your once expressive, electric-blue eyes were now devoid of life. There was no familiar feeling left there, and it hurt me so much to see you like that. I looked at you, unable to tear my gaze away from your motionless features, and I admired the beauty you still maintained beyond the grave - soft, chestnut locks that adorned the top of your head, your peaceful yet blank stare, your inert lips - and my eye was caught by the empty vial which had taken your life away in the space of three minutes. I reached towards your chest, retrieving the vial from where it had fallen, and I sipped at it desperately, doing my best to expel every last drop. But there was nothing left. You were dead, but so was I. It was at that moment that I realised that there was more than one type of death. Sure, my heart was beating, but only as a cold pump. Everything seemed surreal: my whole world felt pixelated, distant... almost meaningless. My twilight was slowly ebbing into blackness.

   Anguish flooded my every sense as my breath was snatched from my lungs, the air thickening as I screamed my pain into the empty chapel, my voice bouncing off the darkened walls. I felt as if I were choking on every unspoken phrase that never left my lips, those three words "I love you" that I never reassured were still true, and the perennial pain was coming to engulf me.

   I felt imprisoned in my own skin. Layers of sweat ran down my every pore, followed by the cold chills that plagued me.

   If I had just walked away with my life today, I know that I would have never been the same again, all because of you. I could never forget the way you once touched the very same skin. The way you'd caressed my face, those calm blue pools rippling as you scanned my eyes, trying to determine my exact emotion. You were always correct.

   Now, I can't look at myself without remembering you. I was a part of you. That's why I'm dead too. You used to run your fingers along my arms, and I'd complain that you were tickling me. You'd chuckle, before laying your head on my shoulder, despite my numerous complaints. Now, I'd give anything to have you back, to have you tickling me mercilessly. Hell, I'd give ten thousand Tybalts to have you back in my life. All I have now are memories. The cool wind which dances upon my skin: the very same that immortalises your every touch. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is electric-blue.

   My emotions were truly set alight as I dipped my head towards your immobile body, tears running down my cheeks only to die on my lips, just like the words that I wished to speak before you drank the deadly liquid from that damned vial. Even now, I remain certain that there is no river that could run deeper than my tears, for I was fuelled by grief. And grief is a lot more overwhelming than love. Wave after wave of sorrow would hit me, dragging me even further in the torrent of grief that I was trapped within. The pressure was building up in my chest; I felt as if my heart were about to burst into flames.

   The church was eerily silent. I couldn't take the anguish any more. I grabbed the sword which lay beside you, and I didn't hesitate to plunge it deep into my chest. Compared to the pain of losing you, this felt like nothing. It was as if the cool steel hadn't penetrated my skin and set my spirit free, along with my every sorrow.

   I fell back onto your chest, awaiting the eternal sleep that would bring me back to you forever. I hoped that God himself would take pity upon my wretched soul.

   You were the last thing I saw. My beautiful tyrant.