There was a cool breeze and grass around us. The perfect place for someone’s last breath.
April's dog’s back legs weren’t working and neither was the control she had over her tears. Her dog had no clue what was happening but somehow it seemed like her brother, Sparky, did. She laid down drinking her water. It was too early for her to go. She was only about three years old with black, curly, hair. Hair that would soon be turned into ash. Ash that would soon be in a box. A box that April would soon be hugging close to her heart.
Her mind drifted to the past when April's dog, Malia, and April were younger. When they were playing happily in the backyard running around. When Malia would lick her face on the couch. When they took this trip to Calafornia, thinking that it would be normal. It wasn’t normal. It would never be normal. The only thing it could be was a memory. Just like the memory of Malia and April running together. The memory of Malia running. April remembered the night when Malia was on the floor dragging her legs upon the ground. It might have been April's fault she was in this state. I was the one that let her run and jump, April thought, I was the one that let her hop onto the couches. And I was the one who had to witness her in this horrible memory.
As if life purposefully trying to make matters worse the vet arrived. “It’s just going to be a little shot,” the vet said in a calming, comforting voice. He revealed the vaccine. A tiny needle with a big purpose, April thought while shivering. The purpose to kill. The vet moved closer to Malia with a needle in his hand and gently pushed it into her skin. After that her stomach seemed to stop moving. You could tell that she wasn’t breathing, that she was gone. It all went silent. And that was the day the death shot struck one of her closest friends. Her family. But at last she can be free from harm's grasp and live on as a peaceful memory.
Author Notes: Please tell me how I did! :)