Denial

A/N; Let's pretend Lilly is sixteen in 2007.

I passed by numerous people in the hallway, and all of them gave me the same look: pity. I smiled and waved back to every single one of them.

They knew. They all knew. But I was in denial. Utter denial.

I pondered the whole situation in my head over and over. I perambulated through the hall as the bell rang; I was soon left alone in the hallway.

I stepped into a random classroom and found students shuffling to their desks. The teacher, sitting at the desk, asked, "Are you in this class?" Embarrassed, I simply ran back out into the hall.

The class I was actually supposed to be in, English, had already began. I quietly opened the door and all eyes turned to me. Mrs. Vickers turned to me, ready to yell, but instead said with pity, "Lillian, please sit down."

My sedate additude, although fake, soon traveled out of my mind and body. I hung my head back, sick of the pity. "Stop with the fucking pity!" I screamed shrilly, to no one in particular. I suppose I meant everybody.

I dropped all my books and let them clatter to the floor. The whole class watched in horror while I let various swear words drift out of my mouth. My feet dragged themselves out of the classroom with a slow run. I screamed again, even louder, and jogged out of the double-doors of the school.

I jumped into my red Nissan and started the engine. It roared and I let my head hang back again.

I drove quickly and recklessly to my planned destination. Of course, at that moment, the sky made a decision to make me even more deprssed. It started to rain.

The drops were light and sprinkly at first, but they got harder and pounded my car as I neared my destination. The graveyard.

I stopped my car abruptly in the parking lot and got out without bothering to turn the engine off.

I walked through these eerie-looking black gates, like the creepy ones you'd see in scary movies. The rain dripped and slid on my face, appearing to be tears. My jeans and hoodie were drenched; I never even put my hood over my head. Smart move, Lilly.

My black converse sloshed in the soaked grassy field. I squeezed between tombstone after tombstone, searching for the only one I cared about at the moment. I spotted the familiar markings and ran toward it, splashing in puddles along the way.

Flashback..

I stood there under the tent, in the graveyard. I heard sniffing, sighing, and blowing of noses, among me. I stood there in disbelief. And denial. Don't forget denial.

I heard some blank and emotionless words coming from the preacher's mouth. I was disgusted of how how somebody, a preacher even, could care so little. At least he could show a little bit of sympathy. I mean, an eighteen-year old guy, an awesome guy, dying in a car crash? That's pretty damn sad!

Except I couldn't cry. I refused to cry. Whenever I felt tears coming on, I felt like I couldn't cry.

Even though I should have cried. He was my boyfriend. Actually he wasn't just my boyfriend. I was completely in love with him. The soulmate kind of way.

The funeral ended and random people came over and patted the shoulders of his dad, his sister, and I. Everybody got into their cars and left eventually, even his mourning family.

But me? I just stood there, staring at the headstone. I still couldn't cry. I still thought he would be there the next day to hold me, to love me. But he couldn't. Because he was dead. I was still in denial.

Now..

I bent down on the ground in front of it, water being soaked through my jeans and dripping on my knees. I traced the markings on the faint gray headstone.

I dropped my hand and crawled into the fetal position. My hands made a grab for the grass, and pulled up a mixture of mud, grass, and water. The hands used to pull it immediately turned to a brownish color. They soon turned back to a pale skin color from the rain, forcing the brown off.

I looked up to the sky, towards heaven. Or at least where I think heaven is. He must be happy up there. Not having to worry about anything.. I hope he missed me.

I felt a strong urge to be done with everthing and commit suicide, just to be with him. But that would just make me end up in hell.

My eyes forced a faint blink, a liquid coming through my eyes. It wasn't water. It was tears. I could almost smile.

I allowed myself to let out a deep, loud sob. I cried, bawled, sobbed, etc. for about an hour it seemed. But it was only five minutes or so. I pulled my hood over my head, and stood up.

Legs feeling like Jello, I slowly walked away from the scene, the graveyard, and the headstone, which read, "RIP Jackson Rod Stewart. B. 1989, D. 2007."

I was out of the denial stage. Finally. Now I could cry about him. And think about him. But most importantly, I could remember the amazing times we had together. And although I'll never have those amazing times again, at least I still have them and him in my heart.

A/N; There's a one-shot for ya. Sad and corny at the end, but I still like it and I'm proud of it. Especially because I used big words a lot. XD I wrote this like right after my grandma died, which is a week ago tomorrow. (November 29th, 2007; she died on 21st.) I'll try my hardest to update Pigtails soon, and I'm also starting a new Loliver story which I'm REALLY excited to start writing! R&R guys, ily, byee!

-Imagine