Was this how the rest of my life would be? The funeral was over, Beca was gone – that chapter was officially closed, and now life was supposed to just go on? I felt lost; my week before had been filled with different things to do – the funeral to help organise, my speech to write, photos to print. Now there was nothing to fill my days and I realised the magnitude of my loss without a distraction.

I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to sit and be miserable, but Aubrey had said I'd spent enough time moping. "Chlo, it's time to get on with it. Beca would want you to be happy!"

Was it so easy for them? I thought they had loved her too.

I forced myself to shower. I forced myself to choke down a breakfast that consisted of more than just coffee, the way Beca had liked hers. I forced myself to dress in something that wasn't sweat pants and an oversized hoodie. I forced myself to live, but was this really living? Or was I just existing?

The rest of the Bella's had returned to classes, and work, and for the first time in a week I was truly alone. There wasn't anyone fussing over me, there wasn't a household of people scurrying around. Just complete and utter silence. Just me and my thoughts.

I took a good look around the living room, taking my time to glance at the couch that had seen us through movie nights, parties and sleepovers. The dining room table that we'd eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner at, the table we'd covered with text books and notes the night before exams. The mantel covered in pictures of the Bella's over the past few years – Beca featuring in the background of most of them, a scowl present on her face as she was forced to take yet another picture. The memories were so real, I could almost see her sitting on the couch or at the dining room table, telling me off for 'staring', or 'distracting her'. God, I missed her voice.

Wait, there was a way I could hear it again. I pulled my phone out of my pocket so fast I fumbled and almost dropped it to the floor. I opened my recent call list, and pressed 'Beca Mitchell'. I knew it wouldn't ring, it had been smashed beyond repair when she'd died. Her voicemail picked up immediately; 'Hi, you've called Beca. Leave a message. Or just be super cool and text me because chances are I won't listen to this message!'

The tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks instantly. Her voice. I could hear her. I must have redialled a hundred times, just to listen to her. So many times I'd berated her for that sarcastic voicemail recording, but now I was so, so grateful for it. So thankful that the few words in the recording captured Beca in just the way she was in her life; sarcasm, wit and all.

I gathered the strength to do what I hadn't done in a week. I went upstairs to her bedroom.

The door was firmly closed, containing the very essence of Beca within four walls. I took a deep breath as I eased the door slowly open, not wanting any of her essence to escape. I wanted to savour this. The emotions hit me as I saw her rumpled pyjamas sitting on the end of her unmade bed. Her laptop open on her desk, study notes covering the remainder of the surface. A jacket thrown over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes by the door. Oh, Beca. You're still right here. I could smell her. I closed my eyes and imagined her lying on her bed listening to music, a position she'd be in thousands of times. I slowly made my way around her room, memorising every tiny detail. I climbed into her bed, covering myself with her comforter and buried my face in her pillow, soaking up the smell of her shampoo.

I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't want to be here. How could I live the next 60 years of my life like this? I couldn't imagine ever getting over this; it was the kind of grief that would last a life time. I didn't want to be that 40 year old, drinking alone in a bar, crying over someone who had been dead for nearly 20 years.

I knew what I had to do, and I had to make sure it happened before the girls came home. I knew they'd try and stop me. Aubrey would be especially disappointed that I hadn't taken her pep talk seriously; but really how could I be expected to go back to classes like nothing had happened? I couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled genuinely. I felt like a shell of myself; like Beca had taken all the best parts of me with her already. She'd taken half my heart; I would never be whole again.

I went down to the bathroom, gathering all the pain killers I could find. I raided Aubrey's , Ashley's and Lily's rooms respectively, then returned to my own where I dug through a drawer for the heavy duty meds the doctor gave me when I had my wisdom teeth removed.

I wasn't sure how many tablets I would need as I spilled the bottles out on to my desk, popping individual tablets from their foil packets. Was this going to be enough?

I also pulled out an almost full bottle of vodka from my stash.

I'd never contemplated suicide before, ever. I was probably the least likely person to do this. I made a point of looking for the silver lining in every single situation. There just wasn't one now. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't scared, I wasn't even uncertain. I knew that this would be the only way I could be with Beca, and that was oddly reassuring. I was at peace with my decision. I just hoped the other girls would understand, and that they would remember how much I loved each and every one of them.

How much time did I have? I estimated another couple of hours, at least. I knew what hurt the most with Beca was the lack of closure; I didn't think I could put any of the girls through that, and there was my family to think of too. I pulled out some paper and envelopes', writing a letter to each one of the Bella's; thanking them for everything they'd ever done for me, explaining my reasoning, apologising for not saying goodbye. I struggled through a letter to my parents, begging them to understand and telling them I loved them. My tears smudged the ink as I wrote a name on the front of each envelope and sealed it with a kiss. I would miss them, every single one of them.

The first few tablets, chased with vodka, were the hardest. Then I got into a rhythm. Chew, swallow. Chew, swallow. My body was starting to feel heavy; my eyes were struggling to stay open. My vision was blurring and I couldn't tell if I was drunk or tired. I couldn't hold my head up anymore.

I could see Beca. A smirk on her face, her eyes twinkling as she mouthed words that I couldn't hear. "I'm coming, Beca."

And everything went black.

A/N; this isn't the end of the story just yet. Please review.