Stardust

I didn’t mean to kill her.

There was just something about the way the light hit her face from the window that fateful morning, her skin a shade away from blending in with the harsh white of the stiff sheets in which she was tucked that said, “enough is enough”, and I knew that I couldn’t go on doing it any longer.

Of course, there is little to say for myself in defense, as I have done unspeakable acts in the name of both peace and science, but I hope that I may, at the very least, convey the purpose behind my resulting actions and acquire a bit of respite for the life I did take.

The whole night long I had sat slumped in my chair, sunk pitifully at my paper-filled desk as I had many nights before. Back again was I to the sorry state that one would definitely be in after forcefully dragging a child from the claws of death for a third time, knowing that not only you were part of the reason she craved that oblivion to begin with, but that you would be here carrying it out once more the next week. I’m sad to say that it appeared to be becoming routine. Not that she blamed me personally for her circumstances, but there’s a certain level of guilt that one feels for participating in keeping a person trapped in this world against their will, especially when, above all, you knew they desired to return to the stars above.

“Mr. Patrick” she said, curled up with the stuffed bunny I gifted her not two weeks prior, “Can you ask them to please let me go?”

And what was I supposed to do? What was I to say? There were no new responses to this repeated question, as there’s only so many times one can proffer “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be out of here soon” or “We’re almost done with our tests, sweetie, just hang on a little longer” without the apprehensive cloud of hopelessness creeping up on from behind to stab at your tear ducts. So for once in my sickeningly short stint at her aide, I decided to do something more than sneak in some sweets or surrender to the seldomly supplied side hug, I agreed to look for a way to send her back.

At this point, it didn’t matter why she was here, only that she wanted to leave us behind. For three days I spent inquiring into her coming to our planet, during our daily outing around the facility, and for three days I was left derelict of an answer beyond what I already knew. The advent to Earth was something of a spectacle to behold. A flaming ball, entering the atmosphere at record speed until it burst into a bright, glittery dust gently drifting to the ground. Her comet had crash-landed out west, and she was carried quite far to us, accompanied by a bit more sedatives than were needed, for Dr. Cameron’s extensive research. Testing was not an enjoyable process, and while I don’t doubt there are those out there who do relish in other’s pain, I presume that the Dr. was extra hard on her due to her being not of earth. I’d rather not go into what it implies, past the typical inhumanness subjects here are treated with that one should expect, yet I did my very best to ensure her comfort. For all that I did perform, I am immensely sorry.

This last endeavor of mine, unfortunately, had turned out to be significantly harder to administer than to acquire, because I had done the one thing we were warned not to do when brought in as caregivers, grow attached to the patients. The others often say that we must distance ourselves for the greater good of our work, but, in all honesty, there’s neither justification to be had for that anymore nor was there much for it in the beginning.

From the onset, the room was quiet and heavy with expectation. I don’t think I would have talked much in her position, but before we could attempt a conversation, however, we had to wait for the sedatives to wash out of her system. Few words are to be said to an unconscious body. While I can’t say that Hollywood movies prepared me much for knowing what to expect, the apparent language barrier had been the last thing on my mind. How was I to connect and converse with an extraterrestrial?

Over the days and weeks that followed we found a way to communicate. This was something of a homecoming for me. I found myself thinking of her as my daughter quite often, and I believe it may have played a role in her opening up and expressing herself. As a father figure, feeding her, naming her, teaching her language, among other things, was an exhilarating experience. So I took the liberty to choose a name our new friend, with Stardust, Star for short, seeming to be the most appropriate.

In and out of all that happened, we spoke for a great deal of time about the things we missed most, primarily of family left behind, but also of the stars she had explored, many of which my eyes are too old to be able to see. It would be a wonder for humanity to understand all that her people had learned from the cosmos. Regrettably, the more we shared with each other, the more she begged for me to let it end. All the more I didn’t want to let go.

I’m not sure how long it was that I stayed there at her side, the stiff sheets turning soft with my tears, her hands turning cold in mine, the light from the window slowly turning to night, but I know deep down that, in the end, I don’t regret my actions for a second, however selfish they were.

And now it’s my time to join her.