Those Three Words

It was the day of the funeral. Trent stood next to a tree. It was a pretty small service. There were at most, maybe ten or fifteen people.

Trent was dressed in a black suit. He couldn't believe that Giselle was gone. His friend that he's known since forever. His room-mate. The love of his life.

But there she was, all decked out in her best. She felt cold to the touch like marble, and the thought made him want to cry.

The priest said some words to help them through their grief and then there was a last viewing as they opened up the casket.

Trent stood back until everyone else had gone. He knew that he was most likely going to lose it. He knew that there wasn't a chance that he could look at her face and not miss her chocolate brown eyes.

Trent was the last one up. He looked down at her cold stiff corpse. She still managed to look angelic. His eyes blurred with tears as he half expected her to jump out at him and laugh like it was some big joke. But in reality, he knew that she wasn't.

If only he had intervened earlier, then maybe she might not be here right now. Or was that something that she had planned all along?

Trent held her hand for a minute and then bent down to kiss her forehead like he used to when they were kids. She always liked him to kiss her on the forehead, especially when she got scared. "Don't be afraid. Let the angel's come and get you." he whispered softly before turning away.

Trent stood there until she was completely buried. And that's when the crowd began to dissipate. Trent was the last one to leave. He must've stood there for hours just looking at her grave, because when he finally looked up at the sky, the sun had long disappeared. So he turned around and made his way home.

The apartment was quiet without Giselle there. Trent began to pick up a little bit, but found that his mind wouldn't let go of Giselle.

He walked into her room and fondeled her suitcase. He seen her purse hanging open on a chair. He picked it up and set it on the desk. A small journal fell out and lay on the ground opened.

Trent bent down to pick it up as a piece of folded paper fell to the ground. He picked it up and read his name written in Giselle's girly script.

He opened it and read it. This is what it said.
"Dear Trent,

If you're reading this now, I'm probably gone. I've been having a premonition about that lately. Don't feel bad, there was nothing that you could do. I've been killing myself slowly for the past six or seven years now.

I love you though, don't get me wrong. But I loved drugs. I loved the way that they made me feel. I guess you would have made me feel like that too, if I had given you a chance. This rehab thing isn't going as planned. The longer I'm sober, the more I get panicky.

I would guess that this would be due to using for so long. But I need it. I need drugs. Then I got to rehab, and I rethought this.

Do I really? Am I that desperate enough to go whoring around to get my fix? The answer was yes. But now it's more like, "I guess so."

I'm sorry for leaving you, but I was messed up. I'm choosing drugs over you, and that's not the kind of woman that you deserve. Hopefully you'll find someone who makes you happy. Someone that you won't have to worry about if they're going to die tonight. I love you, and I'm sorry.

Love,
Giselle"

Trent felt the tears beginning to pour down his face. He tore the letter to shreds and left them on the floor. She loved drugs more than she did him. "I guess so." he said as he looked up at the ceiling.