Stinky, salty, summer air skimmed Greg's nose as he strolled to Railyn's house, making him pray for a moment it was winter. Passing along the side walk, every thing appeared to be the same to Greg, the dancing trees, the screaming cars, the modest houses, but something was different; something loomed in front of him gravely that he couldn't see or stop.

He's been gone two months, two lonely, heart-wrenching but exhilarating months. Every night when he stepped on stage, every girl screamed shamelessly for his attention, but only one erm...maroon-head occupied his head and heart. His khaki shorts clung uncomfortably to his legs like scared children when he climbed up Railyn's red steps with an extra bounce. He was so excited to see her, he could bust like a balloon, sprinkling sparkles and all that was good on the world. When his hand got ready to knock on the white door, a yellow note stood in his way, taped urgently for caring eyes. His eyes grazed the note and began to widen with worry...

To Whom It May Concern,
We are all at St. Patrick's hospital. Railyn's not doing well at all. We don't know how much longer she has. Come to the hospital if you wish.
Jane

Greg briskly ran into the hospital lobby, his mind not upset she may have lied and betrayed him, he only focused fon one objective; finding Railyn. Panting, deprived of water, he asked the plump receptionist where Railyn Coy is, trying with all his might not to fall apart at the seams. "Ahh," she sighed, staring unemotionally at the computer screen through her bifocals. "Miss Coy is in room 911 on the 3rd floor." She didn't receive a thank you in return; Greg didn't want to waste any precious time.

Sprinting out of the elevator, his head bobbled back and forth faster than a curious dog. Danielle came into his view, holding her shaky hand up to her mouth and gazing deeply into a room as if one blink would tilt the balance of the world. Greg ran down the longest hallway of creation and to her side, his panting and sweating seeming to be second nature.

She gasped, turning and staring through his head with itchy, red, swollen eyes. Tears leaked from her eyes as she jumped in her arms, causing Greg to stumble back a little. Danielle tried to speak, but it was like in another language, incomprehensible through tears, frizzing red hair and gasps. "Calm down, Dani," Greg told her sternly, clasping his muscular hands onto her quivering arms. He needed to know what happened. After Danielle took a few soothing breaths, Greg continued with "what's wrong?"

Danielle sniffed violently, her composure cracking like an egg. "Since she's in no state to tell you this, I will," Danielle offered unwillingly, sliding down the oppressive white wall with grief. Greg joined her, trying to fathom what she was going to tell her. But what was the point? Too many secrets lay like an immoble weight between he and Railyn.

"Railyn's mom was kicked out...when she was younger," Danielle started, cradeling her knees to her agonizing chest, a chest crying inside with what felt like blood. "Being scared and poor, she began to prostitute her body. So many men lead to so many problems, one being she contracted HIV. One guy left her nothing but a baby, a baby who would be born taintd with HIV..."

Greg gaped at her absolutely blown away, farther than any torando could toss him. His head could have been decapatated by a shotgun and he wouldn't have budged. His eyes were sightless, casted in black vocanic rock, both remorse and rage burning the edges. Everything wavered around him like hot gas seeping from the motor of a car on a humid day. Danielle continued, even though Greg's state was frightening her out of her wits. "She came back into the hospital last week, all her vitals and weight slipping away. She's almost a potatoe now; the doctors are absolutely baffled on how she's made it this long."

Greg knew why; she was waiting for him before she ascended to the clouds, waiting to say goodbye. Greg bolted for the floor, desperate to do something, ignoring Danielle's cries to wait. He had to see Railyn. He felt so quesy gazing at the body, he grapsed the door fame and held his stomach reluctently. Maybe he should have listened to Danielle.

A rag doll layed lifelessly in a crank bed, white sheets cloaking her like death shrouds. Her eyelids were painted a deep purple, her skin whiter than powder. Several unexplained, soar red spots leeched onto her usually unsoiled face and arms. Hair that was once bouncy and colorful morphed into limp, dull strands of maroon spagetti. Her skinny arms flared motionless at her sides like dead branches. He couldn't believe it; it was Railyn.

Greg's body was plagued with extreme anger, his knuckles white with pain, but at this horrid sight, the anger that burned was thrown away by sadness that killed. Greg quietly inched to her side almost afraid he was going to catch what mutilated her body. Even when Greg knelt by her ailing side and gingerly grazing his hand over her limp arm like she could break, her eyes didn't pop open and glow with excitement; the only signal of life was the short, staggard climbing and sinking of her chest.

Greg bit his lip hard in remorse, attempting to be strong and wincing back his tears. The pain that he inadvertaintly sent through his mouth was nothing compared to the pain Railyn must be experiencing. He snaked his hand to Railyn's, intertwining their fingers like they'd never let go. Greg shot back his head at her, noticing her eyes flickering, then opening slowly as if she was only resting in a peaceful slumber. "Railyn," he gasped, his smile brightening like a giant fireball as he brushed his hand thankfully against her scortching forehead. She peered at him like he was a stranger, her memory dwindling away like water in a dry well, but a twinkle forced its way galantly through the gloom polishing her eyes.

"Greg," she whispered breathlessly, odvious miscomfort contorting her pale face. She tried to find words to say how sorry she was for not telling him the truth, how much excrucating pain surged through her withering body waiting countless days for him to come, how she loved him more than anybody else ever would, but she couldn't; she didn't have the strenght.

"I'm sorry," he cried, tears rolling like a raging river from his dark eyes onto her brittle arm. He laid his head on the side of the bed, his heart ripping apart because all the tears he shed couldn't make things right. "I didn't know. I wish someone would have...called or something...oh my, Rai, I would have left in a snap to...to be..."

She raised her hand meekly from the suffocating sheets to his mouth to silence him, her hand felt unconceivably cold against his moist lips. She shook her shrunken head slightly, her light blue eyes squinting involuntarily as the clock of mortality ticked closer and closer to the end. "I..." she started weakly, her body demanding she take what is meant to be silently, but she wouldn't; she never could. "Don't cry...for me." Her pasty pink lips trying to simulate a smile, genuine passion seeping from her eyes to Greg, causing Greg to brush happiness through his tears and sniffles. Greg rested his hand lovingly on her arm, awaiting anxiously to hear what she has to say before she was stolen away.

"Promise...Promise me, Greg," Railyn gasped with wavering hurt, air being sucked out of her lungs by a malignant vacuum. "Promise me...you'll..." Time crawled by slower and more tormenting than a kidney stone. "find someone...find someone you'll cherish, love, as much as you loved me." That sentance crushed her body physically and mentally for the last time as she gasped for comforting air, drowning in her will to live. Greg peered at her in utter devastation, the thought that she selflessly told him to move on made him smile inside and love her more.

"Promise me that," she muttered, carefully turning her head to Greg and rolling her eyes back to subside the pain. "Will you?"

"I..." Greg started, absolutley flabbergasted from any logical form of words. He regained his lanuage skills, subconciously knowing these words may be the last ever to walk and sing upon her ears. "I don't know...if that's possible."

Railyn's plunging eyes peered into his for a final, momentous time, melting his icy pupils to spill more water on his cheeks. Her lips shivered slightly, trying to block what Greg needed to hear. "I love you," she studderd, the deadly assasant finally winning the battle over her brave, tough heart. Her pale head fell limp to Greg's side, resting forever on the white pillow. Dull, drab string laced over Greg's arm. Greg lowered his head to her heart in fear, demanding comformation. Her lips grazed his head, the lips he couldn't steal one last kiss from, were pumped with cold ice through tiny, once active veins. He layed his head grievingly on her chest, sobbing uncontrollably onto the white sheet. He felt like he wanted to die right then and there; that God should kill him the way grieving lovers wanted be killed; a lightning bolt to the heart.