Natallie Haze was a wildflower in the eyes of Austin Shaw. She was as free as an unbroken mustang, and wilder than Poseidon’s untamed steeds. She was blessed with beauty that even Aphrodite herself would rouse with envy, and that Cupid would pierce himself with an arrow to love her. It seemed like Natallie Haze was not meant for the human race, that she did not come from an ordinary couple. Indeed, Natallie was a wildflower – rustic, boundless, and uncultivated.
But who was Austin Shaw? Austin was the lone wolf, casted from his peers. He was too awkward, too gawky, too shrewd, and too opposite of Natallie. She was slender and fit with long, brown locks of hair; he looked malnourished, had uneven features, and short, mop-like hair. But there must have been something extravagant about Austin, because Natallie was attached to him like tissue paper to the sticky, naked bark of a maple tree. They were infants when they became neighbors, and over the years their friendship blossomed into an inseparable bond.
Austin knew his dear friend was meant for something great in life. Her vibrant energy, flashing smile, and entire being radiated a certain special light. And when she looked at him with her sharp, green eyes, he felt horses gallop in his stomach and his heart skip a beat. Austin felt this jolt every time she looked at him, despite all the years they’ve known each other. Sixteen years old they were, and seventeen was fast approaching.
However, wildflowers spring up in the most unexpected places, and Natallie is no exception. She was born in a homely town lodged deep in a rural region of the country– thrifty, unfurnished, and almost barren. It was the sort of town that only spared necessary buildings, and where the inhabitants lead life in a seemingly monotonous, gray lifestyle. Millville was a burrow; quiet, shady, and isolated – and its characteristics sharply contrasted Natallie’s. The rest of the town was mostly composed of small, shallow flat-topped houses that reflected a stingy working class.
It was autumn now. Austin sat in the aged, torn leather couch in his home. Supper was over, and the Shaw family was slowly gathering itself, prepping for tomorrow’s share of work. It was Saturday night, and Austin had hours of leisure to himself. He ran his fingers over his diary, picked up the pen on the table, and carefully flipped open the cover. It was a gorgeously bounded diary, and Austin held it dear to his heart. Inside the covers were pages of poems, written by Austin himself, that were just as beautiful as his diary. He always kept the diary hidden in the tall, wooden wardrobe in his room. Setting his pen on a new sheet, Austin inscribed a neat line on the page: ‘Hades die for you, and Apollo drive the sun for you...’
He remembered just two months ago, Natallie had stormed through his door and dragged him into the small, confined space that was his room. He remembered how she half-sobbed, and half-cried her to him.
“That little virus last week? That made your eyes ache? That wasn’t any—“
“They s-said it’s not just a v-virus Austin! It’s spreading too fast, they don’t know what it is, they c-c-can’t do anything…Austin, they said I’ll lose my eyesight, I won’t see anything anymore…Don’t you understand?!”
Both of them knew that being blind in this town was the equivalent of being crippled. Handicapped people were looked on with disgrace; they were considered useless and wasteful. Those who were disabled made a living through panhandling, and they were ostracized from the rest of the people. Worst, blind people were often attacked and taken advantage of. Natallie had begged and pleaded both her parents and Austin to keep her ordeal a secret, and they did so. But the Hazes were traditional people, and Austin noticed their relationship with Natallie had never been the same again.
He remembered when he heard the news, he felt as if he had lost his own vision. And he remembered how she came to him every day for a week after that, and how they would cry together every time. He remembered that every night after that incident, he spent tossing and turning in bed; feeling his anxiety grow, feeling his worries breed for her. He spent hours after-school at the library, researching diseases, eyesight, anything he could. And he knew Natallie had begun to spend almost all her free time going out, partying, and drinking to drown her sadness. They saw each other fewer and fewer times. But Austin felt glad, because Natallie feeling happy made him feel happy as well.
A knock on the door roused Austin. Sure enough, behind the door stood Natallie Haze; bundled in a long coat, beaming with a warm smile. Before Austin could say anything, her arms wrapped him in a tight hug.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
Austin felt his heart jumped, knew color was rushing to his cheeks. He whispered a shy reply, and pulled away. “It’s only been a couple days, Natallie.”
“But still! Don’t you miss me too?”
She’s being cheeky again, thought Austin. He grinned and chuckled, quickly nodding. “Of course—“
“Shhh, I know, don’t say anything. We need to talk, pronto.”
She held on to Austin’s arm, and he lead her towards his room. Letting go of Austin, she made her way towards his bed before carefully plodding down.

Pulling a chair up to Natallie, Austin sat down and looked at her. Her green eyes, which used to be so vibrant and striking, were now a dull, misty color.
Holding up three fingers, he chuckled and asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two, jerk!” Natallie laughed, and playfully punched him. “Ok, so guess what?”
Fixing her glance to Austin, she smiled and continued, “Remember how I told you the doctors said I’d completely lose my eyesight in two months? Now they say it’s going to be four. So that’s two extra months, Austin Shaw.” The girl chuckled lightly, but Austin knew deep inside that she felt a pang of sadness. “It’s fine, really! I’m learning Braille and stuff now.”

“That’s good. Look, I have something to tell you too. If someone donated their eyes to you, then you’d be all set. You know your doctors told you about it.”

“I know. But they need a living donor, and you know what happens to those people who donate their eyes. They die.”

“I know that, but it’s better than being a god who is useless.”
They stared at each other, eye to eye, and Natallie knew at once what he was thinking. She jumped up, shrieked, and grabbed Austin by the collar of his shirt. She gave him a vicious look, and whispered just enough words to make Austin shiver.

“Don’t you dare. I’d never forgive you.”
Natallie rose to her feet, walked out of Austin’s house, and on to her own. After she had left, Austin rolled onto his bed, and started to weep to himself. His body shook with each tear, because deep down, he knew that he would kill himself for Natallie.

“But oh, for god’s sake! I have so much to live for, too.”
He lied in bed, tossed and turned. The thought of dying! But oh, the thought of a goddess begging for a morsel, or grain to eat! He rolled and shook, pounded his fist against the firm mattress. He thought about the small pistol he had secretly taken from his father’s garage the day before. It was hidden within the left drawer of his wardrobe, below his diary. If only he had the courage to pull the trigger, the bravery to bear the flames of Natallie’s sun.

Weeks passed, but not once did Natallie visit Austin. Finally, a knock came to Austin’s house. There was Natallie standing behind the door, in the same long coat. But this time, there was no sunshine in her eyes, and no warmth from her breath. Instead, a round, ugly bruise blemished the area below her eye, and her cheeks were wet. Pale, lanky arms embraced her in a hug, and lead her inside.

“They found out, didn’t they?”

Austin’s question was met with more sobs, and felt Natallie squeeze his waist tighter. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, Natallie.” That night, Austin walked Natallie home after hours of holding her shaking, trembling body. He cried with her, for her, and for him.

Rushing home, Austin reached for his diary, and felt its familiar leather cover. He ran his hand over the sturdy leather, over each page, and relished the poems he had written. Throughout the night, he continued to write more and more, hand and pen racing across the blank pages. He wrote as if his bedroom was the Garden of Gethsemane. Finally, he stopped when he finished the last page of the diary.

Austin reached for the pistol in the drawer, and pointed it to his heart. With trembling hands and shaky fingers, he pulled the trigger, and collapsed next to his diary. And with his last look at life, he glimpsed at the last words of the diary: Let my eyes be hers.