#tarantula mantis

Her voice was steady when she spoke, unusual for her. “Would you still love me even if I couldn’t love you back?”

Parker took a moment to make sure they’d heard her right. Their voice sounded harsher than they had intended, “What kind of a question is that?”

Hannah only shrugged and was back to her normal self, but it didn’t ease the odd ache in Parker’s heart that had started growing a long time ago. They felt that Hannah was pushing herself beyond the limit she could handle. But what to say? What could change her mind?

Parker decided that nothing could change Hannah’s mind. She was as stubborn as an old mule, and could stay that way, for all they cared. Then the sway of her golden hair caught their eye once again, and Parker was quickly latching onto the idea of Hannah always being there when they needed her.

To think, just a day later… Parker found Hannah writhing on the bathroom floor, her mouth full of vomit and her eyes bloodshot.

Parker couldn’t get the memory out of their head — even though she was okay, even though she was clean, even though she looked so peaceful now, lying on that bed. Parker’s heart ached and they stared down at Hannah for what felt like hours. It’s almost as if Hannah had known this would happen.

And maybe she’d wanted it to.

The note in Parker’s hands crumpled the harder they grasped it, Hannah’s writing almost as familiar as their own. They wiped the tear that formed before it could fall, angry at themself — at Hannah. How could she?

Damn it all, if she wanted to die, Parker wasn’t going to stop her. They tossed the note onto Hannah’s slowly rising chest, only now hearing the steady beeps and rumbles of the machinery surrounding her as they stopped dissociating. They scowled and turned away, prepared to leave. But something made them look back a final time. Look back at Hannah — at the memories they’d shared.