On to the story, get your tissues ready. or least some chocolate
===== following into forever======= "No, I can't let you do this, I can't let you throw your life away, don't you see? My heart is rotten, rotten to the core. You deserve better." She was crying, he had never seen her cry. Every single layer she had had melted away before his eyes, now she was standing here before him, her soul naked and cold. "I don't want anyone but you. You are the one I love, your heart isn't rotten, just a little bruised. I'll heal it for you." He said, trying to reach for her. She just pulled back. Again.
"John, no, I'm serious. You haven't got a clue about all that I have done. You deserve better. I can't let you lower yourself like this." "Marguerite, listen to me. I love you. You are the one for me, we aren't above or below each other, we are completely equal." "If you only knew." "Then tell me!" "You will hate me. I love you John, so I can't let you make this mistake." "I would never hate you. I can't hate you." "You don't know what you're talking about." "As long as we live I will never love another woman. I don't care about your past; I love you as you are now. As I know you are. You can try to push me away but you won't succeed I know we belong together." "Stop, don't say that." "It is the truth." "Then there is only one thing left for me to do. For you Roxton, I can't let you make this mistake. I love you too much." Before he could stop her she had raised her gun to her head and shot herself. Death was instant. "NOOOOO!" he slumped down next to her, catching her in his arms, hugging her close, her blood and brains dripping down his body, over his clothes, onto the ground forming a little puddle. "Marguerite, what have you done? What have you done?" Her open eyes looked directly at him, her dead eyes. They would never sparkle again like they used to when she was up to something, she would never laugh again, never cry... "I love you, love you, love you, love you." He whispered to her, trying to convince her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, he just wanted to be close to her, one last time. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with out her, shaking he removed the gun from her hand and lifted it to his own head. His heart was already broken
"Roxton, have you gone mad?" someone took the gun from him, he tried to get it back but he would have to let Marguerite go. "What happened?" he didn't hear the frantic questions; all he heard were her last words, over and over again. He rocked his love in his arms, kissed her lips. But she didn't wake up. He was getting mad at her. It was all her fault, if she just hadn't been so stubborn. But he couldn't blame her, he was the one that cornered her, he had made her pull that trigger. It was entirely his fault. He wanted a gun, a knife, a rope, hell even a spoon would do. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out; he started binding it around his neck. He so desperately wanted to be with his love again. So desperately. Someone gently pulled away the belt. He couldn't hold on, she had taken all his strength with her so it seemed.
"Please, I just want to die, I just want to be with her. Just let me die." He begged, he would do anything if he could just die. Die and be with her again, and the pain would vanish. His heart would stop breaking. "Roxton, it's going to be alright, we're going to be alright. I promise you" Veronica squatted down beside him, she cried, but put her hand on his shoulder anyway, lending him some of her strength. "You have no right. You don't know anything." In a couple movements so fast she couldn't even follow them he had her pinned down. He pulled out her knife and wanted to stab it into his own neck. Malone stopped him and also freed his girlfriend using brute force and a stick. "Roxton, now cut it out! She wouldn't have wanted you to kill yourself on her account. Now what happened here?" "She. said she did it for me." He whispered, recalling her last words. Challenger had looked over the scene, there weren't any signs of struggle, adding John's words to that. He knew what had happened. "John, we can't stay here, the blood will draw all kinds of things, we will take her back to the tree house." He said softly. John nodded, dazed and lifted her, his clothes would be ruined. He didn't give it a single thought. He just followed Challenger. As much as he wanted to join his love in death, he just couldn't leave her to be raptor lunch.
It was two months after. after her. after her death. They had buried her at the foot of the tree, always in sight; nothing would happen to her last resting place. Roxton spent most of his time there. His friends had removed all sharp objects from his room, and locked him out of the kitchen; he wasn't allowed to even clean his rifle. He seemed to be getting better though, less suicidal. He brought nice things to her grave, things she would have liked, flowers, gems, nice cloth, his own thoughts, written down, everything he could think of. "Roxton, it's time for dinner." Malone called from above. Roxton ignored it, he was busy mentally talking to Marguerite, he actually was arguing with her, he imagined her very vividly; he could foretell everything she would have said, enough of it anyway. Malone and Veronica came down to get him; they had been force-feeding him on occasion. This time he followed them up and ate his dinner like a good boy.
He spoke very little though, everything reminded him of Marguerite. As he lifted a fork he remembered how she would have done it, and he knew it was his fault she would never do it again. He just couldn't handle having her death on his conscious; it was his fault she shot herself. He should have convinced her she was worth everything good in the world. But she had just shot herself, because he had failed, failed her. The one thing that truly mattered in his life, the one person that he could have been happy with, even content. He should be with her in life and in death. He excused himself from the table, took a sprint and threw himself off the balcony. Veronica's screams were the last thing he heard.