Remember me

Clementine gazes out the open window, the frosty winter wind blowing into the car, and biting at my skin. She insists on having it rolled down, despite the cold. She likes to hear the world, she’s always said. Her long auburn hair pours down her pale shoulders, falling into her dark eyes as she turns to me.  

She’s in a silky green dress, her favorite one, the one I gave her last Christmas. I offered my wool coat, but she declined. The cold weather doesn’t bother her much.  

She asks if I can change the radio station, not one for love songs. I ask her to change it for me, distracted by the bridge ahead. I don’t want to look away from the street, not with the roads as icy as they are. Never mind, she says. I frown, and ask why not. She looks away, and back out the window. I ask her again, confused. Clem, I try again, glancing away from the road to look at her, but she doesn’t answer. When she turns back, I remember. 

Dark blood poured from the wound in her head, rolling down the side of her face. Her hair was bright against the white snow. Her new dress was stained red, a hole ripped in it at her chest. Her lifeless eyes were open, and I sobbed at the terrible sight. 

 My eyes widen as I remember the events of last year. I remember the loud shooting, and the cold, quiet hospital, and the shocking news the doctors said, and the sad funeral. I remember the lonely days after, and how I couldn’t bear it any longer. I remember the small orange bottle, the soft pop of the lid. I remember my trembling hand nearing my lips, then her face, and her hands, stopping me. She’s stayed by me ever since. 

 She smiles at me sadly as I reach out to touch her. I thought we could stay together forever, she says. I shake my head, but the chilly air hits my fingers instead. She’s gone. 

I jolt forward suddenly, the car spinning on the slick road. The windshield shatters, and I feel glass prick my skin. My head strikes the dashboard, and I feel the car flip, before skidding to a stop. 

I can see my blood on the dashboard, and on my hands when I look down. Everything spins, and my eyes close heavily. 

I’ll see you soon Clementine.