Four weeks later                        

The sound of his loud palpitations drowned out all the noises and reverberated around the lab as he walked towards what was left of her body. She still resembled a plucked petal that fell in a place where she didn't belong, yet her presence garnished her Father's old lab. Her noble beauty fit perfectly near his blueprints, but her existence violently shattered his artistry into a shard of a million stars. And he walked on those scattered stars while wishing upon them that one day she will return to him.

He sat in front of the hospital bed where he put her, and her detached limbs were placed on the sofa behind the bed. Even in her death, he still admired and loved her. Although she cured his alcohol addiction, she made him drunk in love.

His heart would sit at the bottom of an ocean every time he brought home an Automaton engineer who would tell him the same thing: "She cannot be fixed."

Now that she's gone, every night he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, dreaming about her gentle kisses that made his soul hum a happy song on repeat. Even his bed is no longer comfortable. The pillows turn to spikes that pierce through his head, and the bedposts turn into tree branches that lock him in with sadness.

Her laughter, her sparkling eyes, the wind dancing between the locks of her hair, her body that smelled and tasted of exotic roses... All of what made her who she is, haunted his pen and made it write words so powerful that even the ink cried over his grief. Their love story didn't end with a full stop, it ended with an almost that could've gave birth to so many beautiful endings.

A bouquet of red roses, her favourite, sat on the table next to him and watched him cry in the barely lit lab. The sorrow tore his heart completely apart, and its pieces burned slowly from the agony. He never completed the poetry book he dedicated for her, he left the last chapter hoping that one day she'll wake up and scatter her own proses on his pages. Countless untitled poems were written, yet tragedy continued to be his only muse, and the only subject he could write.

Nerezza knocked on the door, but he didn't answer. Since she came bearing good news that might finally bring a smile to his face, she opened the door without his permission.

"What do you want?" He wiped his tears.

"I have good news for you, not the one you wish to hear about Éloa, but they're still good nonetheless." She sat next to him.

He didn't answer.

"I announced the president's death and the few Anti-Automaton members who are still alive agreed to add Robot rights to the constitution!" She beamed with excitement.

What Cloyd didn't know, is that Nerezza had instructed Demetrius to hide a bomb remote controller inside his body, so that if he is ever destroyed or hurt that would trigger the bomb that was attached to the President to explode.

His death was a clear indication that Nerezza and Yoel's determination was as hard as steel, and the members of the anti-Automaton regime realized they will all eventually be killed if they do not surrender.

"They agreed on every single term that I had written?"

"Yes! They won't change even a comma. Congratulations, you have fulfilled your promise to her, and created the first Robot rights in history." She said while staring at Éloa.

"I thought it would soothe my soul, knowing that I fulfilled my promise, but pain still burns inside of me, Nerezza." He took her hand and put it on his chest, "can you feel it?"

"I can." She cupped his chin with her other hand.

"Sadness crawls over my skin everyday, and the wounds still haven't healed. Should I drink to stop the pain?"

"No, she wouldn't be happy if you start drinking again." She kissed his forehead. "Just remember that  if she was still with us today, she would've been so proud of you."

"Your father would've been proud of you too, you know?"

"No, he wouldn't. I couldn't protect his five other children, and the only one who survived has lost her mind." She referred to Mega.

"Don't say that, you fought with courage to protect them. I will never forget that you helped me achieve this great moment." He kissed her hand.

"It's the least I can do. After all, Éloa is gone because of me. If I had told you that I could track Mega, we would have saved all of them. But I was scared that if you find out that I used to control them..."

"Let's not be stuck in the ifs, we can't change the past." He sighed.

"Can you forgive me?" She tightened her grip around his hand.

"No, but you have helped me remove the power from the sadistic regime, and I will forever be grateful." He let go of her hands, and got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Some nights are meant for mourning and writing poetry, this is one of those nights." He sat on a desk, and started writing.

"Since she shut down, that became an every night thing for you." She got up and headed towards the door, "I'll leave you to your poetry, then."

He didn't answer, and she took that as an affirmative answer. She closed the door behind her, and he fought his own tongue that tried to beg her to stay. He did enjoy her company, she was the only person that was allowed to share his grief. But he knew that she loved him in a way he could never reciprocate. No woman, Automaton or human, can dig inside his pain and mold it with happiness like Éloa did. She is irreplaceable. A precious, pure, beautiful soulless soul that introduced him to inner peace.

He hoped that heaven was real, and that she was reliving their favourite memories together there. A heaven where he can visit her and build a house with red roses for her. And next to it, have a Mormon church for them to sneak in and and fake moan in the back as the Father recites verses from the holy scripture. Then they would go wedding ring shopping, and pretend that they were cousins who wish to get married. And finally, they can go to an amusement park dressed as Disney characters, and dry hump in front of children.

Why not? He dragged her to his dirty world that eventually killed her, shouldn't he also drag himself to her wicked fantasy?

"Éloa," he pushed his chair to the bed, "I miss you." He cradled her broken pieces. "Loving you was so easy, it was as natural as breathing for me. You were like a warm star that granted all of my wishes with a kiss. I don't want to bury our dreams, but their bones are decaying inside of me. What should I do, my love? Shall I wrap them in a golden shroud, and hide them at the back of my mind?"

The horrible tone of silence replied to him, and he shivered. He only wished to hear her voice one last time, but the silence slithered through his skin. He cursed the barbaric silence that wouldn't be broken by him imagining her melodic laughter. The stench of nostalgia filled the room, and his will failed to get up. He just laid there, with her broken body between his arms, wet with his tears.

A constellation of wounds cracked his skin, and stars shined from his broken body. His tears reflected memories of their past, and the familiar loneliness took the form of his late mother that started rubbing his head as if he were a child again. In his isolation, he closed his eyes and imagined both his late lover and mother getting along in a place where distance didn't exist, and that they were both watching over him as he tried to heal himself with poetry.

Poetry became his only friend, and he vented to it that night until the sun came knocking at his window.

The End.