Eight year. Of course, I knew her for ten, but we were married for eight. It didn't end poorly. It ended sadly, but it ended greatly.

We became business partners ten and a half years ago. It took me eight months to ask her out to coffee (which by then I knew she loved). We both said "I love you" after eight dates. And she didn't know it, but she would be my wife for eight years.

In reality, she's still my wife, she's just not here. She accomplished everything she wanted in her life, though. She even died saving others' lives . 

Ten years ago, she came into my life, but ten years before that we were on completely different paths. She was sixteen, and I was twenty-eight. All she wanted- as stated in one of her "personal journals" (we all knew they were diaries)- was love.

"There's always a girl, when I like a guy. And she's always cool, and impossible to hate. But the way I see it, if the guys I like like girls like that, what does that say about me?"

She always had a way with words. And I had a way of bringing them to life. It was a match.

When I met her, she was that girl. I didn't have anyone to worry if she was that girl for me, but she was cool, and impossible to hate.

Anyway, when she was sixteen, she had a completely different life than she did when I met her. But she was always the same person.

While I was off, just starting my own career as an animator, she was a concert-goer and high school junior. We lead completely different lives, but we did the same thing. We both told stories.

She was an amateur writer, and I was an amateur animator, but little did we know that when our worlds collided, magic would happen. And, little did she know that she would die a hero to many.

    Six a.m. with the sun about to rise. The phone rang out, Belle picking it up, juggling her cereal in her other hand.

    “Morning!” She chirped. This was the norm for her and Tom. He would go to work at 4:30 and call her at six when he knew she would be awake, showered, and starting her day.

    With the phone pressed to her ear, she curled up on the couch; cereal in her lap; Tom’s cartoons playing on tv. Every morning his life’s work was broadcast to the world. A mix of new stories and reruns.

    “Mon Amour, Belle!” Tom mused, showing off the little French his wife taught him in their eight years of marriage. Really, it was ten years of their lives crossing paths. Since then he’s learned plenty of little phrases, and he knew they made her chuckle. “How’s your morning?” He asked, genuinely awaiting her answer.

    “C’est bien,” she shrugged. It was fine. It was just like any other morning. Tom chuckled on the other end.

    “Well, how’s the show?” He inquired. He’d never usually ask straight out, what she thought of his work. But he just loved hearing her voice.

    “Oh, I’m loving the cliffhanger, thanks for that.” She replied with her laugh tied to the end. “Can’t wait for the next episode,” she added.

    Belle was the last one to shy away from her love for cartoons. When she met Tom, it was a match.

    “Ah, well thank you, my love, but you know you deserve credit for that just as much as I,” Tom bantered with his wife.

    She was a writer. Partially for others and partially for herself. Often times she helped Tom with his plots or scripts, while he brought her words to life through his characters. And sometimes, Belle’s genius made it into production.

    “That’s right,” Belle agreed. “I’m responsible for the immense anticipation.” She smirked. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. He truly loved everything about his wife.

    “Yeah,” he breathed, “a season finale full of suspense is always fun.” He agreed, with his own smile.

    After spelling out what she loved about Tom’s work over the phone to him, they said “I love you”, and hung up. Belle had the day off specifically to plan a party for Tom, to celebrate his success in his career. She had been planning it for nearly a month.  

    The first thing on Belle’s agenda was to go see Alex, her brother. He was the one who originally came up with the plan of a surprise success celebration. So, naturally he offered to be in charge of things such as the cake, and he knows a baker whose cakes are to die for.

    Sure it was still early in the morning, but Alex was always up with the sun. By nine a.m. Belle was at his front door, and greeted by her nephew.

    “Aunty Belle!” He exclaimed, jumping into her arms, and she laughed. Alex came running to save her from the little rambunctious boy who was climbing all over her. “Do you want to see the drawings I made?  I think Uncle Thomas would love them!” The boy exclaimed.

All Belle could do was chuckle. Her nephew looked up to Tom, and liked to draw characters in attempt to get them in Tom’s cartoon. It was cute, she couldn’t deny. And Tom said that when the right one comes along and clicks into a storyline, he won’t hesitate to use it.

“Well, actually, Aunty Belle has to talk with Daddy, to discuss our surprise.” Alex negotiated with his four-year-old son.

“Surprise?”  Perked the child. He loved surprises. “For me?” Both Belle and Alex chuckled.

“No, it’s for Uncle Tom,” Belle explained with a smile. “Bring your drawings to the party, and we can show Uncle Tom too.” The boy grinned and nodded vigorously, filled with excitement.

Alex and Belle watched the young boy run off, and got to their discussion. Belle made  sure all of the guests either agreed to attend or had notified her otherwise. Then she went to get snacks and drinks for their guest.  And her brother was in charge of the cake. It was all laid out and ready to be put into action. All Belle did was grin, imagining her husband’s happiness when he came home.

By one p.m. Belle had made her rounds with the guests, and was on her way to get the snacks and drinks. Most of the guests agreed that they would be at the party; a few had prior engagements.

Just by ten minutes, Belle missed her train, and had to wait for the two p.m. train. Luckily this was the only hiccup she faced thus far. However, when she stepped on the train her life changed. The train was just about to pull out of the station when a man ran up to the closing doors, and  demanded they open for him. Everyone on the train exchanged looks and mumbled worries.

This can’t be happening… Belle thought. How disruptive and insane. Not to mention she only had a few more hours until the party was scheduled to start. And this was very important to her. She wanted to show Tom she really loved and admired him, and appreciated his work and all he’d done as her husband to make her life better, and make her happy.

Suddenly, the man pulled out a gun, making everyone on the train recoil. Belle gasped, and pulled out her phone to call 911. She attempted to do it so discretely that the gunman wouldn’t notice.

“Put the phone away!” He screamed at her, pointing his gun.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s… A man, on my train… And he has a gun,” she tried to whisper in between gulps for air.

“What is your location, Miss? Which train station?”

“I told you to put your phone away!” The man exclaimed, pulling the trigger on Belle.

All she could feel is the penetration of the bullet, and her phone slipping from her hand as she fell to floor of the train.

Sources say the man demanded entrance to the train, on account of chasing his former girlfriend who left him earlier in the month. He pulled a gun as a threat to the passengers. A few brave souls called the police, including young Belle Logan who was shot immediately for calling. This young woman’s courageous call saved all other passengers on the train. She currently resides in the local hospital, hours after the shooting. Her husband, animator Tom Logan, got a phone call while at work.

“They’re so in love, it’s a beautiful thing. Belle was actually organizing a celebration for Tom to recognize his work. I planned on attending, but now I plan on visiting her and wishing her well. They are the sweetest couple, and  Belle is so brave and kind…”  

A television in the hospital played as background noise. But the live broadcast was hours ago. Visitors passed through to check on their beloved Belle, but that time was long gone. Alex was first to show up, besides Tom, with his son by his side. All the boy could do was cry and hope that his Aunty would be okay. He brought along his drawings to show her in hopes of cheering her up.

Now Tom was all alone in the hospital waiting room, with red eyes and a tear-stained face. The clock read ten p.m. He sat with his head down, holding one of his nephew’s drawings in his hands.

“It looks like Aunty Belle,” the boy said. “And she would be the hero of the whole world.” This was the one.