When two people have been your world, shown you the universe you never knew existed, and opened up a brand new way of life to you, you never want to let them go. When you force yourself to watch them dying, moment by moment weaker, forcing themselves to smile for you, you make yourself smile back. When you hold their lifeless bodies in your hands, you can't possibly force yourself to look. You can't help but look away.
Because it's your fault. You knew it was your fault, they knew it was your fault, and all this while you've both been pretending that you don't mind, that it's worth it, that there'll be a way out, that it doesn't have to happen the way it must happen.
And when you make the same mistake again, you have to appreciate every moment of her fleeting life.
Mine is the story of two people who are no longer with us. And the demon who killed them.
A/N: This is the rewritten version of my three-year-old story "The One Left Behind", which is still around here somewhere. If you read the first version, I'd love to hear what you think of this one!