And it's not your fault, you think. It's not your fault that everything started going to hell and that he left you and that you slept with his best friend because you were just so damn lonely. You couldn't have changed it if you wanted - this was how you were always meant to be, ruining and destroying and burning whatever good came on your path. And oh was he good. The best thing that ever happened to you, but of course you didn't see, not until it was too late. And then all your chances were lost and you were left with his child and a man you didn't want, not really at least, and an oh so damaged heart. And every time you thought you'd healed, you'd hear from him and the stupid, stupid girl he had chosen to take your place - your rightful place! - and you'd break down all over again. And there was no one there to build you back up, because you'd shut them all out when you were still with him, never thinking you'd need anyone else.

Foolish girl, you snort. Of course it was your fault.

And when he dies, even after your husband and your child have been gone for a long time, you hurt so much you think it will tear you apart, and when you think of that stupid man and his stupid girl you can't even bring yourself to hate them anymore – not as much as you hate yourself for never realizing. So when you go, eventually, the only one you hate is yourself, and that doesn't hurt quite as much because you've always known that and you can forgive yourself for it, thoroughly knowing exactly how stupid you are and always have been. And as you stand on the edge and the wind blows your hair around your face you don't feel anything like regret, just a deep peace as you remember how he used to tease you about that hair, and kiss you when you pouted at him afterwards. So you sigh, and you take a deep breath, and the last word to ever leave your lips is his name – of course it's his name, the same one you've whispered and moaned and shouted out a thousand times – and then it's gone, and you fall, and right before you land you think it shouldn't be possible for it to feel so good. But it does, and for a split second before the air leaves your lungs and the life leaves your body you allow yourself to hope – hope, that silent killer – that he'll be waiting for you on the other side.