Hey everyone. I wrote something new, something I've been thinking of for quite awhile now. This can stand on it's own, but I THINK it will actually be the introduction for a slightly longer story (maybe a couple chapters). So I hope you all enjoy it. But first…
DISCLAIMERS:
A. First and foremost, THIS STORY CONTAINS NO REAL PEOPLE. It does, however, contain characters from Hannah Montana. I absolutely do not own these characters.
B. This story has to do with somewhat mature subject matter: suicide. If you're going to automatically be offended and not give it a chance, feel quite free to hit your browser's back button.
The strong smell of gardenias and roses permeated every inch of the room, sickeningly sweet. They seemed completely inappropriate for the day, and Lilly hated them, every one. But she knew what they were doing. They wanted it to be beautiful. That's just how they decorated for these things. It was no one's fault.
She stood up and left the room, unable to stand being near the coffin anymore, unwilling to put her grief on parade for the guests any longer. As they walked past her, they had all wanted certain things. Gracious thank you's, pleasant conversation, some small show of emotion to prove that she cared. She knew what they were doing. They were simply expecting the same common courtesy they would expect on any other day. But Lilly just couldn't do it, and she had reached the point where no matter how sad she was, she just couldn't cry anymore. It was no one's fault.
Several minutes passed, and Kevin came out to check on her. She said she was fine. He said she should really come back in and talk to everyone. She said fuck them. It seemed exceedingly rude and harsh for him come and berate her for not being polite enough on a day like this, but she knew what he was doing. He was just looking to find some sort of comfort in trying to take control of circumstances he could do very little about. Just his nature. It was no one's fault.
She slumped down against the wall and reached into her pocket for her headphones. She wasn't actually listening to any music, just hoping to avoid any sort of conversation. It worked until Nick and Miley came out and called her bluff. Because Miley knew better. She always did. Lilly looked up at them, their faces contorted into strained, miserable attempts at smiles. More than anything else, it was a depressing sight, but she knew what they were doing. They were just looking to find some relief from the tragedy by being positive. But there was just no way of looking at the situation that would render the glass half full. It was no one's fault.
She got up and wandered down a long, clearly marked "Staff Only" hallway, looking to work through her restlessness somewhere that wouldn't require her to interact with anyone. As she stood outside a closed door, she overheard two of the directors talking. They said the family was lucky. Lucky. That most of the time when these things happened, it had to be closed casket. It sounded heartless, but she knew what they were doing. They were just businessmen who were trying to make the best arrangements they could for their clients. Years of experience had dulled down the shock everyone else was feeling. But that was to be expected in this industry. It was no one's fault.
Oliver appeared, the next in line in the ranks of people they were sending out to her. He asked if she wanted to get out, go for a walk, maybe get some coffee. It seemed cold of him to ask her to ignore it all, but she knew what he was doing. He was looking to distract her, even if only for a little bit. He wanted to make her feel better, but he just didn't know how. It was no one's fault.
She sat back down on the floor and twisted the diamond ring around her middle finger. It was too big for the finger it belonged on, but he didn't know any better when he had gotten it for her. After all, he had never bought an engagement ring before. It was no one's fault.
Kevin had given it to her last night, because he never got a chance to. She tried once more to remind herself…
It was no one's fault.
End intro. Okay, I'll be the first to admit that it was written a bit oddly, but it was intentional and meant to feel repetitious and almost versed. So… yeah!
If you found this incredibly offensive, please refer to the author's note below. If not, thank you very much for reading! And I do love reviews if you wouldn't mind leaving one:o)
An open letter to the person who left me an angry message before this was even written, and to those sharing the same sentiment:
Don't you dare tell me what I know, what I've been through, and what I am allowed to write about. You're right; it is none of your business. But I'm not ashamed of it, so I'll share anyway. I HAVE depression. I've been dealing with it for damn near 10 years. (Since before I was even a teenager.) It's a very chemically based case, so psychotherapy does very little. I am also prone to building up tolerances against my medications, and I am currently on my SIXTH med. It's something I have to live with every single day, whether I'm doing great or not-so-great. Even if I have my symptoms under control, it's always there and always will be. So don't tell me that I don't know what it feels like. Don't presume that you know everything about me, because you don't.
-Charlotte