He never made it home

The phone fell to the floor, her cherry red lips began to tremble, she tryed to hold it in but the pitch black maskara started to run down her face along with the tears running along her cheak faster than a river. She fell to her knees and began screaming at nothing and cursing at the wind as it howled through the trees. The two men pulled her up and helped her get herself together so they could hand her the letter. She couldnt beleive it, the two men standing at the door with their uniforms on had told her the worst thing possible, the man she was supose to marry that day, was dead, he had been shot in the chest multiple times in the war and had no chance of living. She remembered begging and crying and yelling at him not to go, but he did and she felt like it was her fault because she could of done something. For years no one knew how much she blamed herself. She went out and got drunk every night trying to drink away her pain and she did a little by little but never could forget him completely untill one night, it was the anniversary of his death and it brought a cloud of saddness over her. She threw on her coat and headed down to the bar. But this night was different, She drank a little more than usual, she drove a little faster, and this time she couldnt erase the mistake, she drove her car into on coming traffic and died on impact. At least this way she was with Him.

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