Goodbye My Love

"Today we are gathered in a tragic meeting. We are here to celebrate a life lived and - sadly - lost much too soon. We are here to lay a young martyr to rest. We're here for closure and peace..."

I close my eyes, trying to fight off the tears. All I've done the last two weeks is cry but I can't stop. Every time I think of her, the tears fall.

"...But most of all, we're here to say our final goodbyes to Rosa Santiago..."

It's been two and a half years since the day we met. It was the day after I attempted suicide.

Lying in that hospital bed, I wondered why I survived. I hadn't wanted to. They only let me stay one night in the hospital and had plans of shipping me off to rehab.

Thick white bandages cover my wrists and smaller bandages are on my hips.

I sit in the waiting room, watching as my parents fill out the forms so that I can leave and go to rehab.

Looking around, I see a girl a little older than me leaning against a wall. She has long black hair and dark eyes. Her hair is straight and she has on dark eye makeup. She's wearing a Red Jumpsuit Apparatus t shirt with black jeans.

She turns her head and smirks when she catches me looking. Pushing off the wall, she adjusts her t shirt before walking over to me.

"I'm Rosa," she says, her voice holding a distinct Hispanic accent.

"Sandrine."

"You okay? You look scared."

I look at her face, entranced by her dark eyes. "Yeah. Just nervous."

"Can I sit?" she asks quietly.

"Sure."

"You wanna talk about it?"

I study her face, trying to decide if I can trust her or not. I'll probably never see her again so what the hell.

"I'm going to rehab. My parents think that's what I need so I don't try to kill myself again," I say, immediately regretting my decision.

"Which rehab?"

I hand her the card my parents gave me.

"Oh I've been there. You'll be fine. You have a phone?"

I nod my head and pull it out. She takes it and taps on the screen before pulling her own cell out.

"Aquí, I put my number in," she says handing me my phone. "Call me anytime, Sandrine."

I smile softly as she touches my shoulder. "Same here, Rosa."

She smiles at me and touches the scars above the bandages on my wrist. "No more of this. I'll see you sometime." She gives me one last smile before walking away.

I wipe a pesky tear from my face, trying to listen to the minister.

"Rosa Santiago may not have had much but she had the most precious thing of all: love. She had a love that will never die; true love..."

It was three weeks before I saw her again...

I've been in rehab for nearly three weeks. The slashes on my wrists are healing.

Sitting in my room one day, there is a knock at my door. "Come on in," I call, finishing a text to my little sister.

"Hey there," a soft voice calls from the doorway - a voice with a familiar Spanish accent.