Black. Cold. Pain. Those were the first three words I was able to think. All my muscles ached as if I had just lost a wrestling match with a mountain. That couldn’t be what had happened though, I thought, distracted for a moment by the idea of a mountain wrestling. How did I end up here? I wondered. I tried to remember . . . but my head throbbed. I was lying on my back. The surface beneath me was rough and sturdy. The air was so bitingly cold that I shivered. I tried to open my eyes – tried to get a better sense of where I was – but my muscles would not obey. Suddenly, I remembered him. I recalled seeing him for the first time, the party lights dancing across his face. I remembered our secret meetings. I recollected my cousin’s blood-soaked body and the sword in his hands. I remembered his banishment. There was something else too, on the edge of my thoughts. I ignored my pounding head and fought for the memory. I knew I had drunk something . . .
I was abruptly aware that it was raining. A steady sprinkling of rain drops splashed on my chest, soaking through my shirt. The water seemed to rouse my drowsy body. It slowly but surely washed away the pain. With each passing second, my thoughts became clearer. I remembered how to find my eyes and I blinked. I was staring up at the sky. I could still feel the rain on my chest but not a drop of moisture fell from the cloudless sky. I tried to lift my head but the agony was too much. I groaned softly. The not-rain on my chest halted and a weight that I hadn’t noticed before disappeared. A bundle of disheveled auburn hair appeared in my line of sight. It was him! Beneath the hair were red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face. He looked broken, as if he had nothing left to live for. I saw the decision in his eyes before I noticed the vial in his hand. With a sigh, he brought the vial to his lips. I had to stop him. I had to do something, anything! I still didn’t have the strength to move, but I couldn’t let him go through with it. I forced out a carefree laugh. It hurt. A lot.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in a wet t-shirt, you could’ve just asked.” My voice was quiet and raspy, but the sound, itself, froze him in place. Slowly, he lowered his arm and looked down at my smiling face.

His eyes filled with joyful tears and he smiled. He threw his arms around my neck and I hid another pain-filled groan with a laugh. He whispered my name over and over.

“Juliet, Juliet, Juliet. . .”

I ignored my body’s protests as I wrapped my arms around his waist. He felt warm, solid and – most importantly – alive.