There was nothing.
“Misery loves company.”-John Ray 
There was a girl. She was sad. She was lonely. She was scared. Her family didn’t care. Because she didn’t have a family. The girl wasn’t young. The girl wasn’t old. She wasn’t everything. She wasn’t anything. The girl slept alone. She wept alone. The girl cried alone. She died alone. She didn’t die from age. Or sickness. Or murder. The girl died from a broken heart.
The girl was walking, wandering, wondering.
Then there was a boy.
He was happy. He wasn’t lonely. He was brave. At least he seemed to be. The girl and the boy met on a bench. A park bench. A park bench by a pond. The boy said “Hi.” The girl said nothing. For no one had said that simple two letter word to her for over three years. Maybe four. Or even five. The girl had stopped keeping track. Time was lost. The boy repeated himself, “Hi.” She turned. She tried to speak. But her voice was gone. It was lost. Like time. The girl just stared. Tears running down her ice, cold, pale face. The boy frowned. “I’m sorry.” The girl searched the boy’s green eyes. The eyes that seemed so alive, so bright, until the girl searched deeper. Under that fake layer of happiness, was sorrow. Was sadness. Was pain. The boy was good. He was good at hiding it. His sorrow. His sadness. His pain. But the girl was better. She was better at unveiling it. All of it. Because she’s been through it. All of it. Maybe more. Maybe less. The boy blinked. The boy blinked and everything was hidden again. Hidden under those alive, bright green eyes. The boy, under a hushed tone, his voice barely a whisper, asked, “What’s your name?” His voice was trembling. His body was trembling. He was trembling. Suddenly nothing was hidden anymore.
The boy stood up. The boy sat back down. Clearly he was confused. Clearly he was scared. The girl never answered. The girl never answered his question. The boy stood up. He stood up and took two steps to the left. He took two steps to the left, and turned. Then he took two steps to the right. The boy took two steps to the right, and sat back down. He was still trembling. No, not trembling. He was shaking. Shaking like a child without a jacket out in the dead of winter. Shaking like a leaf in a tree on a windy day. Shaking, like the wide, green eyed, scared boy he is. Until he was.

Then all was still.

The girl held the boy. The girl held the boy in her arms like a child would hug his teddy bear. His teddy bear that has been lost. Until it has been found. And that was that. The girl held the boy, and the boy let himself be held. They stayed there for a long while. Until the day went from twilight to dusk. The boy went home. Then the girl went home. But the boy didn’t have a home, nor the girl.

The girl walked. She walked until she couldn’t walk anymore. And that would be her home for the night. She never had the same home. It is different every night. She never had a proper home. She never had a proper home because she never had a proper family. Her family consisted of her, her mom, her dad, and sister. They are all gone now. All four of them. They have been gone for a while now. But when her family was here, they weren’t a good family. They weren’t a good family because they never cared. The girl’s family was made up of a junkie mother, an abusive father, and a helpless sister. Her sister was three years older. She was three years older but she couldn’t do a thing. She couldn’t do a thing so she left. The mother was a junkie. The father was abusive. And the sister was helpless, she couldn’t do a thing. She did try, once. She tried and failed. So the sister gave up. She gave up and moved on. She packed her luggage. She packed her few belongings, all fitting into a  small backpack. And she left. The girl never heard from her again. The mother never cared, her drugs were far more important. The father never cared, he still had another daughter to hit. And the girl didn’t know how to care. She didn’t know how because no one taught her how to. Not her mother. Not her father. And not her sister. Two weeks later the mother was gone. And so was the father. The mother overdosed on drugs, and the father practically beat himself to death. So the girl left. Just as her sister had left.
It was hardly dusk. It was hardly dusk but there they were. There they were, the boy and the girl, on a bench. A park bench. A park bench by a pond. There they were sitting on the same bench, watching the sun climb through the sky. Then the boy stopped. The boy stopped watching the sunrise and looked towards the girl. For the first time the boy noticed her. For the first time he really noticed her. The way her ashy auburn hair swayed in the wind, with her overgrown bangs framing her rounded face. The way she moved her lips seeming to mumble something, but saying nothing at all. The way when she gently closed her eyes and opens them they sparkle like a million little stars. And the way she cried. The way she let the tears fall, oblivious to the fact that the pain would end. Soon. Very soon.
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Days past. Weeks past. Months. Years. And the girl and the boy still met. They still met everyday on that same bench. On that same park bench. On that same park bench by the pond. The girl grew older. And the boy grew older. But that didn’t change a thing. The boy fell in love with the girl. The girl fell in love with the boy. They fell in love with each other. They fell in love with each other fully and completely. And that was enough. Until it wasn’t.

The sun was creeping on the horizon. Creeping on the horizon casting a low morning glow. There the girl was. Waiting on the bench. On the park bench. On the park bench by the pond. But something was wrong. The boy wasn’t there. He wasn’t there, on the park bench by the pond. He should be there. But he wasn’t. He was always there. But he wasn’t. The girl waited. And waited. Until she couldn’t wait anymore. 

Chilly winter’s bite resided and out came spring’s tender embrace. Still. Still there was no boy. The girl began to worry. She began to panic. She began to cry. The girl knew. The girl knew that the boy wasn’t coming back. Even if he tried. Even if he wanted to. Even if he had to. He couldn’t. The girl couldn’t take the pain. Even if she tried. Even if she wanted to. Even if she had to. She couldn’t. The girl couldn’t take it, so she left. She left to find the boy. But she didn’t know where to look. The only place she knew where he’d be besides the park, was his home. But he didn’t have a home. The boy lived in an alley behind a little Italian restaurant. A little Italian restaurant that was run by a little old Italian couple. The boy would rummage through the trash. He would rummage through the trash until the old little Italian couple found him. The couple brought him a blanket. They brought him a toothbrush. They brought him clean clothes. And they brought him food that wasn’t from the trash. One day the little old Italian couple were gone. The little old Italian couple were gone and no one knows where. Just like the boy was gone. The boy was gone and no one knows where. Still. Still the girl went to look in the alley. The alley behind the little Italian restaurant.
The girl walked. She walked to the boy’s home. And when she arrived it wasn’t a home anymore.

It was a graveyard.

The boy was there. Lying on the cement. Lying not moving. Lying not talking. Lying not blinking. Lying not breathing. Lying, lifeless. The boy had no blanket. He had no toothbrush. He had no clean clothes. He had no food. He had nothing. He wasn’t everything. He wasn’t anything. He was dead.

The boy was gone. His sorrow was gone. His sadness was gone. His pain was gone. But his love was gone. His love for the girl was gone. He was gone.

The girl didn’t feel anything. She wanted to feel something. But she couldn’t. The girl was gone. She felt so far away. But she was there. But she wasn’t. She should be used to this by now. The girl should be used to the sorrow. To the sadness. To the pain. But she wasn’t.

The boy was buried. He was buried in a cemetery. A cemetery in the middle of nowhere. The girl visited the boy. The girl visited him everyday. For hours. Days. Weeks. Four weeks went by. Four weeks went by and the girl felt nothing. The girl went to the bench. The park bench. The park bench by the pond. She hasn’t gone there for four weeks. She couldn’t go there for four weeks. She didn’t know if she could go there at all. The girl walked. The girl walked further. The girl walked until she was at the edge of the pond. She closed her eyes. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.” She counted to ten and opened her eyes. She looked down. She looked down into the pond. The pond that went deeper than the depth of her soul. And saw herself.

The next day she looked into the pond. And saw herself. And the next day. And the next day. And the next. For hours. Days. Weeks. Until she didn’t. She didn’t see herself. The girl didn’t see herself. She saw someone else.

She saw the boy.

And she jumped in.

The girl was buried. She was buried in a cemetery. A cemetery in the middle of nowhere. Next to the boy. They had gravestones. But it said nothing. There was nothing.