Of all of the things that had happened that year, the worst had to have occurred when Holly J was completely alone. Recently, Anya had become distant, even moreso than she already had been. Usually when Anya withdrew, it was due to something malevolent Holly J had done, or harsh words that had hit too close to home. But this time, she couldn't think of a single thing she had done for Anya to avoid her. It's not like she was the only one that was affected, either. Even Owen had approached her one day, wondering why Anya was being like this; had she told Holly J anything? Of course, she had not. In the rare occasions where Anya did speak to her, it was never more than five words at a time, and she seemed to find great fascination with inanimate objects around her.
Then there was Fiona. Since the fashion-show incident, they had made amends. Or rather, they had pretended nothing had ever happened; Holly J did so because acknowledging it had happened would mean acknowledging that she had, indeed, noticed it, and was bothered by it. She didn't know why Fiona had done it, but she did suspect it was due to Charlie telling her that she should, for whatever reason. But despite their relationship being more or less patched up and thrown back together with a sloppy bandage, they still hadn't had another movie night, and when they saw each other outside of school, almost all of the time it was at The Dot. They hadn't even talked on the phone in god knows how long; whatever length of time it had been, it must be abnormal for them.
Chantay damn near useless. Aside from making peppy and not at all comforting remarks such as, 'Cheer up', 'It'll be alright!' or even 'I'm so sorry', the only thing she was good for was giving Holly J fashion advice on the shrinking number of occasions she left the house. But all the same, there she was, inhabiting the space in her life that was normally reserved for Fiona or Anya, buzzing about like a fly that just won't land so you can crush it with a swatter.
She had even contacted Declan once via video chat. Needless to say, it had been one of the most awkward experiences of Holly J's young- and slowly ending- life. He had answered after twenty seconds. Five was normal, ten was hesitant, and thirty was 'I was thinking about pretending I'm not here'. And so, twenty was the allotted 'Hey, ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/best friend' time. Then came the simple greeting, a hello. Nothing more, nothing less. It was curt, friendly, and businesslike. She greeted him back, and they talked for a while. Small talk for rich folk, really. Instead of queries about families, it was a discussion on the stock market. Instead of discussing the weather, it was questions about the newest fashions by the most famous designers. Then, the real reason for the talk reared it's ugly head, and as a result, she had to tell him why she wasn't talking to Fiona about this.
He was sweet, kind, and empathetic, and it made Holly J feel sick.
Finally she hung up, and fell face first into her comforter. Some comfort it brought. Her mind was a jumbled mess of worry and depressed thoughts and even one that though she refused to acknowledge yet, still nagged in the back of her head, just waiting for the day, the time where Holly J finally caved and let it jump right into the spotlight of her mind.
Holly Jeanette Sinclair was dying.
And she would die alone.