Guilt

By VivaGlam

*Frown* I'd originally wanted to do a Blade and Laetitia vignette, just 'cuz they promise so much fun, but really, I couldn't remember it for the life of me. Then this gorgeous little black Porsche Boxster pulled up beside me, and I went nuts. Thus forgetting about whatever wicked idea I was trying to remember. Darn it. So Phoenix it will be. She does have some interesting issues to explore.

* * * *

It's today. The day when Shilo …left. As the years go by, it doesn't feel any better. It doesn't feel any worse, either. The empty place inside me that can't stop gaping, like an open wound that strangely enough, doesn't hurt. Not anymore. But maybe that's the worst thing of all- it seems like it'll never heal. And because there's no pain, I can't tell if the hurt's getting better, or if it's getting worse.

It just feels farther away. And much more faint with each passing day. Which is the worst thing of all. I'd rather feel some pain than forget how it is to feel pain. I don't want to have it fade away. It's not right- I feel like I'm betraying Shilo, by not feeling any pain from his death. But it's been so long that… that I can't really feel the hurt anymore, you know? So I feel like it's my duty now. To feel some pain in order to remember. Because it's the only way I know how to.

I'll never forget it. The pain of my brother dying. Of the only person who really mattered leaving so suddenly, without even giving me a chance to say goodbye. I hated him for that. Leaving so suddenly. And leaving me alone in the world, without anybody to guide me, and comfort me, like he always did.

I never liked to admit it, but deep down inside, I knew the truth. He cared when nobody else did. And that mattered more than anything. To a teenager who never fit in, whom everybody treated like the cold bitch who could never have a friend. I hated it, but there was nothing I could've done, and so I ran with the idiot rumors. Looked tough, acted tough, was the school bitch. I made them all hate me, because I hated them, too. There wasn't ever any doubt about that.

But it hurt. To be different, and to be shunned like that. I'm different, but I can't deny what I am, and I'm a teenager, first and foremost. They always say that teenagers need acceptance and love. And you know what? As sad and clichéd as that sounds, it's true. I would know. How? Because I craved it so much. I knew that Shilo accepted me for who I was, and that was my saving grace more times than I would've liked to count.

* * * *

I told Laetitia about it, one day. While we were sitting in the room together. It was Shilo's birthday, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't even remember what he looked like without looking at a photo of him. And I can't remember what flavor of ice cream he used to like, because he liked so many.

I told her about how guilty I felt. For nearly forgetting him. For no longer feeling the pain of losing him, just a dull emptiness where he used to be. For picking up a gun. For forgetting his favorite flavor of ice cream. For all of this shit.

"How could I do that? I hate myself. And I'm never going to forgive myself." I said.

She just laughed. "When haven't you stopped forgiving yourself?" Laetitia asked.

* * * *

You know what's the worst thing of all? I'm moving on. I don't want to move on. They all say, 'Oh, moving on's a good thing. It shows that you're coping with the loss.' Well, I don't want to cope. Moving on and coping means that I'd forget. Forget what it was like to have Shilo threaten those idiot bitches for not leaving me alone. And to forget how he taught me to breakdance. Or how he taught me to play basketball just as well as all the other guys. If I wasn't a mutant, I might even have made it into college basketball, and maybe even the WNBA.

But then Shilo had to go die. And I had to be a damn mutant. And… and everything just went downhill from there. I will not cry. I will NOT cry! But I want to so badly, and…

Laetitia says that crying helps. I really wouldn't know. Even after I let myself cry, I just feel even worse afterwards. I feel weak, and ashamed. I hate being weak and ashamed. She tells me that I'm not weak for crying, but what the fuck does she know? She's damn well fucking invincible. Just like Shilo.

You know what's the worst thing? I think she's replacing him. I'm trading Shilo for Laetitia. Using one to replace the gap left by the other. Slowly, bit by bit. And that's the real reason for the guilt.

Not because I'm forgetting Shilo. I'll never forget Shilo. Not unless some idiot telepath like Ryan goes and does some mind trick on me and wipes my mind. No, I'll never forget Shilo. Not what he did for me, or what he meant to me. I might forget what flavor of ice cream he liked, or what pair of shoes he wanted, but then again, those were never important, were they?

And despite my not wanting to move on, I actually am. I'm coping, and growing and becoming stronger and surviving. Because that's what I do. Survive. And I suppose that since I've always needed somebody to help and guide me, I've found myself somebody.

She's so different from Shilo. They're so different, but so much the same, too. I think that to a certain extent, she scares me. The things that she does, sometimes, or that look she gets in her eyes when the prospect of a fight comes up. Its like she enjoys the killing, and the blood, and the fighting. But she's always around when I'm in trouble, and she's always there to say the right words. Not the words to make me feel better, because feeling better isn't what life is about. Shilo said that. He was full of wisdom like that.

And Laetitia's like that, too.

She knows me so well, it's frightening. It's like she can read my mind. Because she's always right, somehow. Like how Shilo always was right. And when she hugs me, its like I can feel Shilo hugging me, too. They're so alike, and yet so different.

And I feel guilty. Because on the anniversary of my brother's death, I'm thinking about the woman who's taken his place, filled the void that he's left.

I feel like I'm cheating on him, and there's guilt, but yet it doesn't stop me from coming back to Laetitia for her love and acceptance.

It sickens me.

And it warms my heart, too.

I hate myself.

* * * *

The End

* * * *

Well… that was… weird. I suppose I shouldn't ever read it again, because I'd hate it. This is dedicated to all those people who've lost someone close to them, and the pain that they go through. I'm probably entirely off the mark when it comes to how you feel, but, well, I don't know what to think. I should go to sleep, now. Before I lose my mind and write even more dark, depressing stuff.