I let my now limp, purposeless body fall back onto my mattress. Staring up blindly at the ceiling, at the words it bore. I don't know how long I stayed there transfixed. I stayed long enough to hear my call for dinner and ignore it; long enough to notice my mother's presence in the doorway taking in my drenched, puffy face, dead eyes and limp position. Long enough to see her walk away wordlessly. Some mother, eh?
As anyone who has loved and lost would tell you it would have been far easier to cope if you'd never have loved at all. Contractually few would choose to of had that reality instead, not wanting to forget, needing the memories; love does that to you; it makes you go against your better judgement. In my case said person is my mother. My mother is the most beautiful, intelligent, caring woman that I know, she is also the worst. The person that my hatred for far surpasses my hatred for any other living being. Yet the person I love the most. It's a hard contradictory line to walk, I am vulnerable to her, my raw feelings exposed for her to abuse as she sees fit. It's a quiet kind of pain; a pain that you forget even exists until she strikes again. And strikes again she does; oh how she strikes. As a child I was naïve, blindly trusting her judgement, loving unconditionally. I can't shake that view that I had of her even though I've seen her transform into this evil being. Around her it's like I have amnesia, in those moments where she doesn't show her hate in all its blatant glory I see her through the eyes of a younger me.
I don't remember much of Rachel's funeral, apart from that what I did see was distorted with tears. I felt very much like I was drowning; my eyes submerged in tears, my lungs catching desperate breaths, my mind in a haze. It hurt.
I don't remember much about the days that past since, apart from that everything was painfully clear, with the soft edges that the tears gave had gone. My eyes feeling dry and hollow, stinging for the moisture my body no longer held.
I let a soft wordless melody wisp from between my numb lips to merge with the thick fog surrounding Rachel's head stone, caressing it as if it were so fragile that it may shatter with a gust of wind. In reality it was me that might break at any given moment but alas I would rather a gust of wind hit me than Rachel's stone even when such damage would only be fatal to me.
I had sat on this rough ground sixty four times since Rachel's funeral; I had lain on this ground six times -those were the worst days, the days I gave up on humanity altogether-. Long enough to watch the flowers decay until they disappeared, long enough to see the bouquets stop coming altogether. It takes approximately three months for people to stop thinking about a death that I'll never forget.
I don't know what made today different but I didn't like it; didn't deserve the relief. Looking around I noticed the other graves that I'd never really looked at before, blind to anything that didn't relate to Rachel. My eyes welled up at the thought of her name. Why has this affected me so much? I didn't see anyone else spending hours at her grave, they were just quietly grieving, getting on with their lives. But I had no life to get on with, perhaps that was the difference.
Just then a headstone moved.
I sat stock still, every muscle in my body tense. Blinking my eyes furiously I managed to ride them of their unshed tears. Was that even a headstone? I stood up, aching knees protesting profusely and stumbled over to the movement. In those moments I genuinely believed that I was insane.
"I'm sorry"
The unexpected voice made me jump, stumbling from my already precarious balance,
"I didn't mean to spy on you, I promise"
A figure in a dark rain coat emerged from between the headstones, his amber eyes looking up beneath his hood at me sorrowfully. He was beautiful, the most beautiful boy I'd ever set my eyes on.
"Who are you?" I asked more to myself than him.
"My names Blaine, I was visiting my mother's grave, well sitting by it."
"Sitting by it" My voice sounded more curious than I'd heard it in months.
"I, well I used to sit here and read, its quiet… it's away from my day."
He stumbled over his words so adorably, his eyes widening in honesty that he seemed more puppy than boy. But I didn't miss the word 'used'. Putting the information about his father aside to examine later when my head didn't feel like it was swimming I marched on,
"You 'used' to, so what are you doing now?"
I know from his sudden red flush that I'd caught him out.
"You're so sad" It was a statement.
What a strange boy. What an interesting boy.
"I can see it in your eyes, the way you move. You loved her didn't you? The girl in the grace."
I felt the stinging return to my eyes at the mention of her. I don't cry anymore, though I do have a constant pricking in my eyes, I think my body's on survival mode, trying to stop myself from dehydration.
"Rachel" Her name fell from my lips
"Rachel" he repeated me softly
"You've been watching me" It was a statement not a question.
"For a while"
"Why" I pursued, trying to understand him.
He didn't answer; instead he slowly started walking towards Rachel's grave.
"Was she beautiful?"
"Yes" I silently added 'the prettiest girl I've ever met'. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought back to prom. He sat down in front of her stone and gently traced out the words engraved.
"I imagined so."
I didn't know what to say to this mysterious boy so I stood shifting my weight onto each foot.
"I need to go, good bye"
And with that he was gone. Blaine was gone. As I watched him gracefully slip out of the cemetery I felt the air grow dense, making it harder to breathe.
I woke up with an intense feeling of longing. Questions filled my mind; the most important of which being will I ever see Blaine again? The day past dismally sluggishly, I found a sense of frustration with every word anyone one said to me as though they were solely responsible for this drawn out day. It was surprisingly easy for me to slip back into my previous routine, the dry eyes, stiff hands and talent for fake smiling had all fallen back into place. Only the undercurrent of pain was just that much more deep, the waves that much more furious. My tsunami had past, but had left sadness and destruction in its wake.
It seems however that my drawn out day was in vain, no figures lingered between the gravestones today apart from me and my tears. I lay down my sobs growing too physically painful to stay upright, I don't know how my encounter with that mysterious boy had affected me so, but it had and that seemed thoroughly irreversible. I lay there until my dry broken sobs became but an echo of their former selves, until the distant street lights sent out their glow reminding me that there was some where warm and somewhat more inviting than this cold, empty graveyard that held memories of nothing but grief, reminding me that I was still alive no matter how much like the corpses laying beneath me I felt. Instead of responding to the distant call from humanity I let the darkness envelop me, embracing the choking sensation in my throat.
