J is for Joke

It was all a joke; a sick, cruel, twisted joke.

Any minute, Marissa would come walking through the bathroom that had connected their rooms, sit down on her bed, and they would have a good laugh over the joke.

Marissa wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead.

She needed her too much.

It was all just a nightmare; a figure of her imagination. Ryan wouldn't let Marissa die.

But the joke was on her.

Marissa was dead. Ryan let her die.

And she was angry. She was livid. She was destroyed.

Marissa had been her best friend since the 5th grade. They had done everything together, been through everything together. If it hadn't been for Ryan showing up, none of this would have happened.

She and Marissa would be going off to college together, somewhere sunny; Hawaii perhaps.

She would not be here, preparing for a funeral for the best friend she had ever had.

A light knock shocked her out of her thoughts. Wiping the last few tears from her face, she went and unlocked the door. She didn't open it. If it wasn't Marissa, she didn't care.

The door slowly opened, and a blonde boy walked in.

It was not who she was expecting, and the last person she wanted to see.

"You." She said, barely able to talk.

"Summer." He said quietly, taking a step further into the room.

"This is all your fault!" She screamed. Or at least she tried to scream. It came out hardly louder then a whisper.

"I know." He said, looking directly at her.

She was not expecting him to take the blame.

Deep down, she knew it wasn't really his fault. She knew it was Volchok who had run them off the road. She knew that Ryan would have done everything in his power to save Marissa. That's what Ryan did. He saved Marissa.

"No, you don't know. She was my best friend. And you killed her!" This time her voice was a little louder, a little stronger.

She was being irrational, but she didn't care. She needed someone to blame.

He didn't say anything to her. He looked away. And that pissed her off even more.

"If it wasn't for you, this never would have happened. And it would be Marissa in hear instead of you." She continued, her voice growing louder.

The tears welled again behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

He still refused to look at her, choosing instead to stare into the open room that used to be hers.

"You should have died in that accident, not her."

That wasn't true.

At that point he looked up at her. She could see the unshed tears glistening behind his blue eyes.

The tears he never shed.

She had cried so much that she couldn't believe she still had more to release. But he hadn't cried at all. She could see it in his face. She could see the guilt, the sadness, the misery. And it enraged her even more.

"Do you even care? Do you even care that she's dead?"

She took another step closer to him. At this point, she was standing less then 6 inches away from him. And all she wanted to do was hit him.

And she did.

The force of her hand caused his head to snap to the side.

She was angry. She was hurt. She was devastated. And she wanted him to feel it too.

"Of course I care." He said softly. So softly, she barely heard him. "I care more then you know."

The tears were threatening to fall again, and she had little energy to stop them.

Before she knew what she was doing, she flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as the sobs racked her body.

She barely noticed his arms wrapping around her shoulders, his head resting on top of hers.

And she felt tears. Not just her own, which were steadily flowing down her cheeks, but the little drops that were falling on top of her head.

She felt his body start to shake as he finally gave into the emotions he had been bottling up inside since the accident.

And she knew it wasn't a joke.

Marissa was really gone.