Life has always felt so endless to me. When I was younger,  I would play pretend and act like I was invincible so much that I began to believe I was.

To me, death didn't exist.

You could say I believed I would live forever.  I was inexperienced in pain and ignorant with loss. I have the perfect family;  a stable mother, scholar father and me, their only son. We were all neat and tidy with nothing to hide. I excelled at sports, at school, friendships and relationships; I was popular. I played into gossip and looked down to people like they were less of me; something I regret now that I am older.  Life couldn't have felt more endless.

But then I met her.  

  I first saw Claire Anderson in the art room my senior year. She was different from anyone else I have ever met before. Her blonde hair was held away from her face with a thin green ribbon that matched her striking eyes. Her pale face was covered in freckles that continued down her petite frame. She wore a large pink sweater that hung on her like a blanket and jeans covered in paint. Her smile was her best feature. It had the power to light up a whole room and take the light away with the snap of her fingers. The only thing other than her smile that wasnt ordinary was the heart shaped birthmark under her left eye.

 I fell in love with her instantly, which in return opened my eyes to the real world.  Something about her brought me comfort. She had a way of communicating without always using her words. You could feel how she felt just through the touch of her hand. She was always there for me.

 The last time I saw her was about a year ago.

  I found a note in my locker prompting me to meet her on the roof of the school that night, and I did. I was greeted with one of her smiles; but this one was different. Her lips told the story of grief and melancholy. She wore a thin cardigan over a tank top; her arms covered like they always were. But most importantly, her heart that she was always so proud of was carefully covered with makeup .

  My face must have given me away because she pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered into my ear, “I will be alright soon. Please, don't let me worry you.” Her voice was high and soft, almost as if she was begging me; and I could feel her breath on my neck.

  She pulled away from me and took the cardigan off; revealing her arms for the first time.  There were covered in different size bruises and small scars.

“I wanted to show you sooner.” Suddenly her tone goes serious, a couple tears trickling down her delicate face. ”I need you to live and survive because I won't be able to. Life has always been hard for me in ways you will never be able to realize. I don't have what you have. People don't like me like they like you. ”

I feel a hot tear begin to fall down my face and as I pulled her to me. The sight of the bruises permanently engraved in my memory. Fury washes over me, how did this happen? Who did this to her? Why would someone hurt such a precious angel? My precious angel.

“W-who did this to you?” My voice cracks as I whisper into her hair. She’s crying too when she opened her mouth as if she’s going to respond, but she didn't . I can feel her quiver against my chest as she slip an envelope into my pocket and tells me not to open it until tomorrow.

I swear to myself that I will keep her safe, that she will never hurt again. I drove her home that night; not knowing that I would never get the chance.

I hear the news the next day that Claire is dead. She took a handful of her brother’s sleeping pills and died in her sleep. She didn't even leave a note. Devastation hit me like a ton of bricks as I remember what she said the night before.

 I need you to live and survive because I won't be able to.

 I cant believe that I didn't realize it last night. She was reaching to me and all I could do was stand there and cry. She needed me, and I didnt know what to say. She was falling, slowly losing herself and I couldn’t save her.

 It was a week before I remembered the envelope in my jacket. I removed the contents with care so I wouldn't rip anything. Inside were two things, a picture of us together, and a handwritten letter. I placed the picture on my desk and opened the letter.

  I find out that Claire was mentally abused by both her mother and father. They fought constantly and took it out on her instead of working it out together. She had been going through it since she was six years old  and didn't know any other way to make it stop. She had planned to do it months before, but then she met me. She wrote that I was her rock; the only thing that kept her alive. But, then the fighting turned into hitting. The hurtful words were replace with bruises on her skin. Cutting wasn’t helping anymore. She felt she wouldn't be able to put the burden on me any longer; even though I didn't know about want was actually going on.

   Tears stained the paper as I finished reading her final words. I wish she had come to me sooner; I wish I would have known her pain. I wish I didn't just drive her home . I should’ve stayed with her and held her close to me all night, never leaving her side until morning. Even then I should’ve been with her  every second I could. If I hadn’t been so weak I could’ve saved her.

I realize now that I did all that I could have done. Ever since I graduated, I have devoted my life to helping people like Claire live; and in some ways, I try to live for her. I know that she is still with me; and I know that she loved me.

  Life isn't everlasting. It isn't made to talk and gossip and parade around like we’re all kings. Life is made to help each other and to make each other feel loved, because you never know what someone is going through.

“I will always love you, Claire Anderson” I think as I put the heart on my cheek.