Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.
She'd meant what she said at the vigil. She really had. She wasn't going to cry over him—those moments with Tori didn't count. There were other issues and she was a little emotionally distraught. But she wouldn't cry. Not here. Not now. Not even alone in her room, staring at the owl he'd jokingly stolen from her. He didn't have the right to make her cry over this. He'd taken the owl. He'd stolen her heart. He'd destroyed her innocent naivety. But she'd be damned if he'd get her tears as well.
God, she was so angry at him. What right did he have to do this to all of them? What right did he have to curse all of them to be haunted by his ghost? Seriously, she wasn't sure she'd ever be free of it. How was she supposed to forget the first boy who'd stolen her heart? People had enough trouble with that without the added burden of having said first love killing themselves.
Suicide was an ugly word. She'd never considered it much before but it really was. It just sounded unnatural rolling off her tongue—the same way it sounded weird to say "Cam is dead." It wasn't right. It wasn't good. She shouldn't have to deal with this. But, then again, he didn't really give her choice.
Actually, it wasn't like he'd ever really given her choice in any of this. She hadn't asked to have her heart stolen. It had just happened and then, when she had ended it the first time, he'd wiggled his way back into her heart. Only to crush it all over again.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. Good Lord, she would have done anything to stop it if he'd just told her about it. But no, instead he'd skipped out on their lunch date, broken up with her, and done it. She'd thought everything was fine. Hell, if she'd had to guess she would have said everything was good. Great even. The video he'd left her should have proved that. He was happy, joking with her, telling her it was the best night ever. He couldn't be gone, not just like that, not after the night they'd shared.
That's what confused her most. She'd known he'd struggled before break with the pressures of hockey and school and her. But she'd thought they'd worked that out. Then, the first day back, she'd seen him snap against Zig but that was anger management. She'd never thought he would hurt himself because of that. And, they'd worked through that as well. What else did he need? If the night he'd spent at her house didn't give him a reason to stay, what else could she have done?
There must have been something—no, no, no. She would not think like that. It was NOT her fault. It wasn't. He'd been happy when she'd last seen him. It should have been enough. She couldn't give anymore. Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't it enough, Campbell Saunders? WHY?
She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell. She wanted to get up and throw things around her room, throwing a hissy fit like she was four years old again. She thought her family would understand. Might even appreciate it. It was making them nervous that she wouldn't react, that she'd been frozen since Simpson broke the news. She knew her parents and Katie thought she was being cold but they didn't really know. They couldn't. They might be able to help her with other relationship problems but they'd never been the girlfriend of the boy who committed suicide. This was unexplored territory for them, somewhere they couldn't actually follow her. So who were they to judge how she reacted?
It wasn't like yelling or crying or screaming was going to bring him back. Neither was staring blankly at the last thing of hers he had touched but she couldn't have everything, could she? Clearly not. He'd taken it all from her and then killed himself.
How was she supposed to feel now? He'd made her happy. Made her sad and angry too now that she thought about it. But he'd made her feel like no one else before had. He made her special. With him, he wasn't just the music prodigy or perfect Katie Matlin's little sister. No, she was Maya and she was as good as everyone else, as pretty as Tori, as smart as Katie. He'd just made her more alive than she'd ever felt and now he was gone. By his choice. Goddammit.
Part of her thought she might feel better if she just kept moving, just kept going through the motions. Eventually, the feeling must return to her body. She'd have to feel alive again. He hadn't killed her when he'd taken his own life. No, she was still as alive as she'd been before. Except that she couldn't feel it.
Katie had thought she was crazy, playing the cello instead of talking to the counselor or just going home. But it was, like, music was the one thing that had always made her special. Music made her special before Cam. Music had made her special when she was with Cam. Music would make her special after Cam. It had to. It had to be the key to making the frozen feeling that had taken over at Simpson's words go away. She didn't know what else would work.
Except that, you know, it wasn't actually working. No matter how much she played. No matter how many new pieces she found. No matter how much of her heart she tried to put into it. It wasn't enough. It wasn't making her feel better. Nothing was—all she could think about was Cam and the fact that he'd left her and now she wasn't sure she'd ever feel alive again.
It was weird, feeling that he was gone but that he wasn't at the same time. Each moment, she felt like she was going to turn around and that he'd be there, smiling with his arms open wide, ready to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. It was his remembered ghost that was getting to her—she couldn't forget and she couldn't forgive and he'd left her haunted.
It shouldn't have mattered. Not what Dallas did or Zig said or anything else. He should have known it would have gotten better. He should have known that there were people who cared for him, even if he didn't play hockey or Zig said horrible things or she got mad at him. His family, down in Florida, for one. Herself for another. She'd cared, even after what he'd done with Zig. He should have known that. Why hadn't he?
She didn't pretend to understand and looking down at the owl in her hands, she realized she never would. She would probably always question why, would probably always wonder if it was inevitable. Because, really, it should have been enough. There wasn't anything else she could have done—at least, that's what she had to believe. Because, like everyone else seemed to be saying, there was a small part of her that wondered if was her fault. If she should have fought back when he texted her that it was over. If she should have gone and found him. If that would have changed his mind. Maybe it would've, maybe it wouldn't have. She kind of wishes she would have tried.
It was that thought that killed her resolve. She wished she could have saved him because, now, now, now she was cursed with his ghost. And she didn't really know if she could carry it. She just wanted him back, holding her, and laughing at cat videos. She didn't want to feel him there but not, a ghostly presence she couldn't shake. So it was there, feeling him and missing him, holding on to Hoot like it was the only thing that mattered in this Godforsaken world, that she finally (finally, finally), let her tears fall.