The sinking feeling had returned. It always did when I came here.
I stared at the grass. It was fresh, clean, and probably had been cut earlier this morning. The small cross jutting out of the ground was not old, it looked brand new. That's because it was brand new.
This was where I had met her, it seemed only fair that...
Alex came up behind me, and wrapped her arms around my waist. I leaned back against her, welcoming her warmth. Her breath fell gently on my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
"You going to be okay?" She murmered.
I shook my head, not even trying to stifle the tears that left black tracks on my cheeks. My heart throbbed as I stared down at my best friend's tombstone.
"This is the spot she asked for." I finally choked out.
"It's okay, Mitchie. It's okay." She came around to my front so she could wrap me even tighter into an embrace. I put my head over her shoulder and sobbed.
The suicide note was still clutched in my hand. She had always said she hated herself, but we had laughed about it. She always said she hated her appearance. She had always said she hated her voice.
Why had I not seen the signs?
Alex stroked my hair and whispered nothings in my ear until my sobs stopped, but I was still crying. The problem was, I had no tears left to cry.
She had been sixteen, same age as Alex and I. Sixteen. That's too young to die. She had never been able to act on her dream of performing.
Why had I not seen the signs?
The world wasn't fair. She had always complained and said she was in pain, but never said how much she was hurting. And I had always thought it was physical pain. No, it had been the same pain my heart was enduring now. Deep, incredible suffering.
Why had I not seen the signs?
"It wasn't your fault." Alex whispered, as if reading my mind. But I knew she was wrong.
"Why had I not seen the signs?" I mumbled my thought outloud.
"It's hard to see a friend in pain when you want them to be happy." Alex reasoned. "It wasn't your fault."
I stepped away from her comforting warmth and turned so she couldn't see my face. "I might as well be dead, too. I deserve it."
Alex spun me around and looked me in the eye. "Mitchie, don't say that."
I looked away. Impossibly, more tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't trust myself with words. I didn't trust myself with anything anymore.
She had always loved to sing. She wasn't that great, but her eyes would shine and her face would light up. You could see she loved the music, but after each song, she would put herself down. I suck. My voice is horrible. I can't sing.
She had always been a little off key, but otherwise, it was a beautiful sound. Her family, and mine had always critisized her, but I kept to her side. I thought that would be enought, but apparently not.
Alex tried to hug me again, but I pulled away. I couldn't let myself melt into her embrace, I couldn't let myself be comforted. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deseve anything. I didn't deserve to live.
"Let's go home." Alex trudged off towards her car, leaving me to follow. I cast my eyes on the cross one more time, brushed the stone with my knuckles, then slowly walked away. I knew I would, against my own will, come back again tomorrow. I always came back.
I got in the vehicle and sat in silence while Alex drove me back to my house. My family was off on vacation. I was supposed to go, but after she died, I couldn't bring myself to leave. They would be back in a week, but until then, I was alone. So alone.
"Do you want me to stay the night?" Alex offered.
I shook my head and took the key out of my pocket. The car started again and was off, leaving me alone. So alone.
The house was cold and empty, just like me. A hollow shell, a miserable lonely structure.
l set the key on the table. The slight clink it triggered was the only sound in the building. The silence felt right to me, though, as if the house itself was mourning her loss. She had always loved my house, and said so multiple times. I had so many memories with her from this place.
I hated it here.
It was a simple reminder that she was gone. We would never see eachother again, or make more memories to treasure. It was over.
I walked into my room and lay on the bed. I'd promised myself I would never do this, but I let my eyes scan the suicide note for the fifth time, still not understanding why she would leave me.
Dear who ever reads this,
I'm sure by now you've found me. Dead. Hopefully I didn't
make too much of a bloody mess. I didn't want to do it with pills, I hate pills. But
anyways, I want to say, first, Mitchie? Don't blame yourself. I made this decision
based purely on my desire to stop living. You had nothing to do with it. Secondly,
I want to be buried where me and Mitch first met. It was the best thing, she's the
only one who's always stood by me. Also, donate all of my stuff to people who need
it. None of that keeping it forever and wasting it. I'm sure it'll be more use than it was
when I had it. I love you. I love you all. This had to happen, I'm sorry. Please, don't
mourn me. I'm happier now. Again, I love you. Forgive me.
Why? Why hadn't she thought of all the pain this would cause everyone? Of course we mourned. Of course I blamed myself. Of course we kept her stuff. Of course she would write as if the pain was nothing, of course she would think we would move on.
Moisture started building up again, but I wiped it away. I would try to be stronger. For her. For myself.
For Alex.
Alex. She had asked me out the same day I found the body. I had rushed to my best friend's house at once, of course, and bursting with joy. Her family wasn't home, for some reason, but I knew she's be. I had parked, and ran up to her door.
When no one answered my knocks, I walked in anways. Well, more like ran, and straight into her room.
The image will never leave my mind.
There she was, stretched across her double bed, a knife in her heart and a note in her hand.
I stood there, not moving, just staring, until her family came back. They noticed I had left the door open, and thought it was some kind of robbery. They rushed in and came up behind me. I remember a blood chilling screech coming from someone's mouth, thought I'm not sure who's. It could've even been mine as their arrival shocked me out of my state.
At first, they thought I had murdered her. It took me a while, three days, actually, before I could speak. Then it all had come out in a rush. I'm suprised they understood.
Next week will mean two months. Two months of life without her, which was, in reality, not living at all. Simply moving around, breathing, eating and surviving.
When she died, if felt like she had ripped out my soul to take with her.
The doorbell rang, and I jumped. I shoved the note in a drawer with a sudden burst of energy. Then I walked to the door and opened it. It was Alex. She had a backpack on, and a sleeping bag tucked under her arm. Her face was grim.
"I'm staying with you tonight, whether you like it or not." I shook my head, but let her pass.
She set all her stuff down in my room. I followed, and sat on the bed, watching her silently.
A quick glance was all it took for her to understand what I was feeling. "Oh, Mitchie."
I ducked my head and stared at my lap. And she just stood there, watching me. I could feel the burn of her gaze. It was painful, but comforting, as if she was reassuring me but disapproving of my misery at the same time.
She shook her head. "You need something. And I'm going to figure out what."
The words slipped before I could stop them. "I need my best friend back."
Alex's eyebrows raised, but she said nothing else. Silence returned, and the heat of her stare fell away. She walked to my dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the suicide note. She knows me too well.
I hadn't let her read it, she knew only as much as my family had told her. She knew that I had been told not to be blamed, and where the grave was to be. That was all.
Now she scanned it, her face stoic, her eyes the only thing that moved as she read the paper. Unlike all the other times, I didn't try to stop her. I no longer had the energy.
"Mitchie." She repeated, and our eyes met. She folded the note and placed it back where it belonged, and sat beside me on the bed. "You are alright."
"It's all my fault." My voice was rusty and sounded robotic.
"No."
"It's all my fault." I said again, in the same tone. "It's all my fault."
Alex took my hand in hers, and the warmth spread up my arm and to my heart. It was like a small candle had been lit inside me, not enought to brighten my spirits, but a flicker that could be used to look around.
But the wind of sadness blew my candle out, and my soul was dark once again.
I looked across the room, anything to avoid Alex's gaze. The mirror leaned against my wall caught my attention.
My reflection stared back at me. My eyes had a dull look in them, the usual sparkle was gone. My hair was lying limply on my head, and I looked dead.
Good. Because inside, I was.
Alex frowned as she saw where I was looking. "You're beautiful, Mitch. You just need to accept..."
"Accept what?" I heard the viciousness in my voice. "That my best friend is dead and everyone is set on moving on? What if I don't want to move on? What if I actually cared about this person who no longer breathes?"
"Calm down." She put her hand on my shoulder, and the physical contact soothed me.
"Sorry..." I couldn't speak anymore. My throat closed up, and it was all I could do to breathe.
"Are you okay?" Her eyes were full of concern. Black was closing in, and I thought, why should I keep breathing?
So I held my breath. And held it. Until I couldnt' see anything anymore.
"Mitchie? Mitchie? Mitchie!"
Alex's voice was still echoing in my head. I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) and saw her looming over me.
Her face was full of relief. "Oh, thank god. I thought I'd lost you."
I wish you had.
But that was selfish. Selfish to think of dying. Because where would that leave Alex? She would be going through the same thing. No, that wasn't fair to anyone.
"I'm sorry, Alex." I said, turning away. "I just don't think I can handle this ache anymore."
Her concern returned, and when I looked into her eyes, I saw fear hiding behind them. "Please, Mitchie. Don't say that. Don't even think that. You're going to be alright."
"No. No I'm not." I still sounded robotic, but that was okay. I didn't need to sound like I had feelings if I didn't. Only the deep, throbbing pain that wouldn't let go of my heart.
Alex looked up at me with beautiful chocolate brown eyes, and I thought, she deserves someone more than me.
And then her lips were pressed against mine, and the candle flickered again, turning into a flame which burned brighter and brighter until my insides were melting with the glow of her love, the love she was communicating through the kiss.
I was crying again, but so was she. We were sobbing into eachother, but our lips still moved against the others, desperate.
The ache faded, but the light stayed, even when she pulled away. Salty tears stained those soft cheeks, and I brushed them away with the pad of my thumb.
"I love you." I whispered.
"I love you, too."
She sniffled, and I couldn't help but think that she was adorable.
That kiss had made me realize that there was still a life for me. My best friend had made her choices, and I made mine. I was going to live.
And I still go back to that gravestone every day. With my girlfriend's hand in mine, we mourn the loss of life. I'm still sad, but I am not empty. I'm a warrior.