Not altogether happy with this chapter, so watch for a revision of some point. Actually, I plan to revise them all. Just this one more than the rest.
Chapter III
'Student Dead after School Shooting.' 'One Dead, One Seriously Injured in Academic Tragedy.' 'Student Hero Saves Lives.' The headlines were still screaming at them early Monday morning, reminding them of that which hadn't for a moment left their heads. Only one reporter dared bother them, and Ellie dismissed her with a trademark comment, guiding Sean into the school.
Classes had been cancelled in favor of counselling--the whole school was in a state of terror, despite the fact that Rick was long dead (or, at least, what generally constitutes long in adolescent measurement). It was, of course, time to play blame. The pessimists blamed themselves. The optimists blamed Rick, and the administration and anyone else they could think of. Ellie and Sean were silent, not even allowing themselves the privelage of blame.
Ellie managed to drag Sean to one of the groups. She doubted it would be much help for either of them, but she was clueless as to what would be of assistance. She later accused Sean of not even making an effort, conveniently forgetting the fact that she had done even less.
They arrived at Wasaga Beach before Ellie had even had a chance to figure out what had happened. One minute, Sean was calm, the next he was smashing computer monitors, intent on confronting his parents. Of course, plans never work that easily, and the parents, wonderful alcoholic specimens that they were, had slammed the door in their son's face. Ellie tried not to long for her own mother, hoping, as she did each day, that the rehab would be successful.
Sean knew he was falling apart, and it didn't take long to show--nor did it take long for him to return to his parents' house and make amends. Ellie knew, as he rounded the corner away from her sight, that he would break down in front of them. She only dared hope that they would have in them what he needed.
He returned quicker than she'd expected and she knew he wasn't going back to Toronto, and she tried to spirit him away before he realised it for himself, but he'd known it already. She voiced it, finally, knowing he couldn't, and he nodded.
"But... Sean, I love you." I need you, she wanted to say, but she knew it would only be the kiss of death, and it would tear him to pieces. Because she loved him, she kept it to herself.
"I love you too, but..." She didn't hear anything else. That last word, the horrible, most hated of words, echoed in her mind. The preceding phrase could be no comfort when that horrible 'but' lingered on. He tried to reach out to her, she later thought, although she wasn't one hundred percent certain, but she knew that if he did, she had jerked away. And she hated herself for her anger, but there it was.
He knew it would hurt her, and he wanted more than anything to take back his words, but he couldn't. If he returned, he would find his salvation in theft, and in the arms of girls he'd known for five minutes. He knew that she wouldn't have left him, no matter how much sex he used to fill the void, and it was that which stopped him from falling on his knees and begging her forgiveness.