"Waking up without you, it doesn't feel right. To sleep with only memories is harder every night.
And sometimes I think I can feel you breathing on my neck."

Alone In This Bed; Framing Hanley

-e-

I slowly tipped the almost-empty beer bottle, letting it settle on the side of its flat bottom. I nonchalantly twisted it, letting it roll to the left then back to the right. I repeated this as I stared blindly at the brown surface of the bar top, thinking about the words that were stuck in my head and wouldn't cease to disappear.

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.

I wasn't sure who said that exactly, all I knew was that it was stuck in my thought process – like an annoying pop song that you couldn't help but to sing too as it jumped into your mind at random moments in time. It was ridiculous. It was a nuisance. I just wanted to seriously jam something through my head in order to make it stop. But that would make me stop thinking all together.

I wanted to die, just not because of a fucking quote was bouncing in my head. I let out a breath and blinked my eyes for the first time in five minutes, letting the dryness quickly get moist. I finished the rest of my Bud and set it down hard, a pinging noise muffled by the loud noise around me made me realized that this was my seventh beer. I already had a slight buzz, was I wanting to get fully wasted? I gazed around me, staring at strangers. I had come alone, planning to have a beer or two and go home to an empty bed.

One more wouldn't hurt, I thought to myself, and singled the bartender for another Bud Light. She smiled at me, a hopeful look in her eyes. She waltzed over to me, her large breasts bouncing in her small fitted black shirt. I was disgusted, yet slightly turn on. It's been fucking centuries since I got laid, I told myself. I shook my head mentally. No. I wouldn't go there. No matter how attractive the black haired, tanned skin, and large boobed woman was.

"Ready for another, honey?" she purred, grazing my fingers with her own as she removed the empty bottle. I pulled away from it, letting her take it away.

"Sure am," I replied. She walked away momentarily, her hips swinging and her ass pleasantly showing off – mocking me; as if saying "I know you want this, but you won't get it…loser!" How right that ass was. I wanted it. I wanted sex, but I wasn't going to get it. I only wanted it from one person, one Goddess whose body I worshiped like a temple. The woman returned, her nametag read 'Leah'- a pretty name if I do say so myself.

"Here ya go, hun. Anything else I can get ya?" she asked me, leaning over the counter. It looked like her boobs were going to burst out. I stared at them, realizing that I shouldn't and I turned my sight to her chocolate eyes.

I shook my head. "Nah. I'm good, thanks though."

She smiled at me. "Are you sure?" I groaned mentally and lifted up my left hand, flashing the silver on my third finger. I felt sort of low using my wedding ring to ward off woman, but it seemed to work – most the time anyways. She frowned and walked away, her hips rocking as she spotted another guy sitting by himself. He looked up and smiled at her, flirting.

I snorted. "When one door closes, another one opens." I took a large gulp from the brown bottle, stopping once it was almost empty. I clucked my tongue and held the bottle in the palms of my hand, agonizing over the fact that the label was beginning to blur. We understand death for the first time – the words suddenly hit me, making me smack my fist against the hard top. This was getting very annoying. I finished the bottle off in a very angry swallow and stood up, reaching in my pocket for my wallet. I fished out fifty bucks, thinking that bar beer was way too expensive for my budget.

I paid my tab and left the bar, only a little wobbly. Lucky for me I hadn't driven here, I walked straight from work. Surely Sam was going to have my head for cutting work early, but he'd forgive me. That guy had some sort of soft spot for me – maybe because I saved his son in fire, maybe because I had been his bestfriend since we were kids, or maybe it was because I was the only guy who hasn't tried to get in his wife's pants.

I only lived about ten blocks away from the bar. I figured that I'd make it before I puked or passed out or hell, before I decided to play ding-dong-ditch. When I was buzzed I had a tendency to do shit I hadn't done since I was teenager. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets, ignoring the cool air that breezed by. I was glad it was fall, but I was also upset that it was here. In fact, thinking about it made me pissed. I kicked a tin garbage can and it fell over.

I laughed at the trash that settled in the gutter and on the curb. I walked around it, trying to keep my laughs quiet. An empty can of pees made me pull some form of football move. I swung myself around, tripping over air and landed on the lawn of someone's yard. I laughed for what felt like forever. That's when I realized I was drunk, not buzzed. The thought made me giggle like a little girl who was being tickled. But those laughs soon faded and turned into sobs – horrible, wracking sobs. I pulled myself up to my feet, not bothering to brush of the grass or dirt. I pulled my arms around my stomach, holding in the pain that throbbed there.

I stumbled as I walked, my shoes getting caught on cracks and busted sidewalk blocks. I wiped at my hot tears that rolled off my cheeks. It was dark outside and having blurred eyes didn't help much, not to mention that tears didn't help any. I spotted to me what looked like a bench and lunged for it, sitting on it as I let out more broken sobs. When he puts his hand upon one whom we love. I screamed at the words that appeared quietly into my shaky thought process. I threw my face into my large, scarred palms – aware that the pain had not completely disappeared like I thought.

It had been nearly two months since she'd left me. Since her life had been taken away. It's been six weeks since my beautiful Rose had lost all her petals and began to wilt until she was no longer blossoming. Rosalie was dead and there was nothing I could do about except cry out for her. I knew that she couldn't hear me, but I hoped. I lowered myself onto the body of the bench, lounging on it as I stared at the bright dots in the sky as tears spilt out of my slits of my eyes. I let my arms rest lazily by my sides, one of them folding over my large build.

I thought about her then; her blonde curls that never seemed to go straight. Her bright blue eyes that always twinkled when she smiled at me. Her perfectly tanned skin and the way her fingers trembled over my body when we would make love. My Rose was perfect; she was everything I'd always wanted in a woman. She was…gone. The single word caused me to be hit with a wrecking ball of pain, anger and disbelief. Whenever I thought about her being dead feelings I had never felt struck me in sudden blows; shocking me.

At some point during my childish sobs – I passed out.

I dreamt of my Rose though, of a time in our lives that I could never forget. The sun was setting yet the warmth ceased to leave. It was our honeymoon. We couldn't afford much so we decided to go to Florida; a place much hotter and more humid then our familiar San Francesco. We had fun though. We spent time at the beach on most days but would sometimes stay in the hotel for a dinner and a movie. We'd often spend most our time making love, but it was our first time being together physically. Rosalie had wanted to wait till we were married – I agreed.

I hadn't been a virgin when I met her, but she had. I felt honored to be her first..and her only. I saw her in my mind as I lay unconscious. She seemed so real, she seemed as if she were right beside me. But even asleep I knew that it wasn't possible. I could only wish and hope. My mind shut down then; letting me rest, letting me forget.

-:-

I had awoken to rain drops falling on my face, to something walking back and forth on my chest, to nausea rising from my throat. I sat up and moved to the side (a bird flew away at the motion), vomiting on the ground below me. After I was finished the pang rushed to my head, alerting me that I would not be going into work today. I peeled my eyes open, their weight begging to be dropped. The first question that popped into my head was where am I? I spotted a house; it had a red door and had white tiles. It belonged to the Copes - an elderly couple that I would sometimes do outside chores for.

Mine and Rose's small house was about four down. In fact, I could see it from this very spot. Our house matched the Cope's; it was just smaller and had a black door. It was a cute place, cottage-like. It was our home – we'd spent all of our money we could make on it. It was always worth it though. I wiped my mouth with the back of my jacket sleeve and headed hope, aware the rain was picking up and glad that I didn't have far to go.

--

Once inside the somewhat warmth of my house, I felt a sudden weight sink down on me. It was in my chest - tugging at my heart. I un-zipped my jacket and let it fall to the ground, my eyebrows scrunched up as I stared at the brown floorboards. I kicked my sneakers off and pulled everything out of my pockets – throwing the objects on the table as I made my way to the bathroom. I downed two Tylenols and stripped down into my boxers before crashing on the large king sized bed that was now better fit for a queen. I passed out before I could even get under the covers.

The sound of the phone ringing woke me up, causing me to curse and groan. Before I knew it I had the phone in my hands, greeting the person on the other line.

"Hello?" I muttered.

"Is this Emmett McCarty?" A man asked.

"Yes it is and may ask who is calling?" This made me wonder – why did everyone act so proper and well mannered when strangers called?

"This is Ben Cheney, Rosalie's boss." He seemed unsure of the title. "The workers have put together a memorial for those who had died in the shooting. It would mean so much if you'd come. This is as much for you as it is for the others who had lost someone."

Silence.

"I'll have to see if I'm not busy. My job takes up plenty of time that I'm not sure I can spare, even for this." Lies. It was all a lie, but I wasn't ready for a second goodbye. Not yet.

"I understand. I sent you a letter though, of the time and address. Just in case you can make it."

"Thank you," I replied. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mr. McCarty."

Before I could even get a chance to put the phone down it rang again. I pressed the talk button and brought it to my ear.

"Yeah?" I coughed.

"What happened to you?" Sam's voice asked.

"What do you mean?" I retorted.

"You cut out of work early and then today you don't show up. What's going on? And it better be a real excuse not the 'oh, I'm so depressed' excuse I've heard from you."

I chuckled without humor. "Wow, Sam. Glad to see you have a heart."

He growled. "I'm serious, Emmett. If you keep pulling the wool over my eyes, I'm going to have to fire you."

I laughed again. "Firing the lead fire man."

"Just get the fuck over it and do your job, Em. We've all put up with this shit, but not anymore. She's gone and you need to realize this. It's time to let go, put your big boy panties on and get your ass moving!"

I frowned deeply. "Thanks, Sam. Not only has the love of my life given up on me but you have too."

He began to protest, but I hung the phone up on him, fighting back tears. I escaped in the shower, letting the hot water wash away all my anger until all that was left was the familiar sadness the never seemed to go away. In fact, this time, the sadness didn't have the echo of anger or grief but this time it came with something unfamiliar but not forgettable.

It was the sudden feeling of hope and happiness that had me wiping away my tears that mixed with the hot drops of water.

It was the feeling of joy that had me getting dressed into my uniform.

It was the fact that Sam was right that had me going to work with a smile.

But before I could get into the Jeep that I rarely used nowadays I stopped at the mail box – pulling out the bills and junk mail that had gathered. I tossed through the mail, looking for the letter that I needed. That we needed. This invite was a ticket to my freedom, a ticket to my closure.

"Six o'clock – November 15th." I read out loud, smiling to myself. I would go to this memorial – after all it wasn't just for those who had gotten their lives taken away from them by being murdered; it was for those who'd really suffered from the shooting. Like I was with my Rosalie.

I set the mail inside before locking the door and heading to work where I would slowly yet surely make my life back go the way it was.

She was gone. Hope was all I had left.

And I hoped to fucking God that I'd get over this. I needed to move on – for me, for her, and for the ones who loved me. I needed to find my silver lining.

Z/N: Well, this was the last daily update. :) Our updates will happen every Thursday. You all probably still have questions and they will be answered soon enough.

We really appreciate your support - feel free to leave more. Thanks to TRDancer for beta'ing this for me. She's awesomesauce.
Also, on my profile (for now) pictures and fun stuff for this story can be found.

Till next time!