Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Wishing you were somehow here again.
I just wanted to thank all of you who have left me nice reviews. I'm sorry I kind of went a little crazy, but there really is no excuse for flat out bashing like that. Especially when the people bashing haven't even read the entire story! AH! Ok, enough of that. Here's the next chapter!
Christine gazed out of her window to the street below, the sun shining over the happy world which brought forth all of the blissful neighbors into their yards, brightening their spirits as they watched their children play games in the porches and conversed with the other happy residents. She watched them carefully, memorizing every little detail about them, hoping that one of them might give her a clue on how to simply enjoy life.
She sighed, deserting her post and pulling the heavy deep red curtains to block out the sunlight.
It had been a few days since the announcement in the newspaper…and what seemed a lifetime since she had spoken to Erik. Her thoughts drifted back many times to that silent car ride home from Andre's house, almost exactly the same as the night Raoul had said it was over. Except this time, there were no tears to shed.
Drunk driving had been the cause of his death, something which seemed to go hand in hand with prom night, but never seems a reality until it comes right up to your door as a sick surprise.
Christine had escaped the world, exiting her dark sanctuary only to eat occasionally and go to school were she talked to no one as the choice topic of conversation was Raoul's death, rumors spreading like wild fire as to what exactly happened that night.
From what she could gather, it seemed that Raoul was taking Carlotta home, both very smashed and involved in a potentially violent argument. Raoul had pulled one of his infamous angry driving stunts that Christine knew all too well, and had disregarded the red light, the other car demolishing the driver's side. Raoul had died on impact while Carlotta, with both her legs and several other bones broken, had survived to remember the accident with grief. Even now she was in the hospital, apparently still in shock, mumbling only bits and pieces of the accident to those who retold the story to the entire school.
Christine retreated to the corner of the dark room, in one of those extremely bored moods when you probably shouldn't be left alone, and slumped down to the ground, placing her head in her hands.
'What now?' she asked herself, drawing her knees closer to her chest and hugging them to her.
She shivered, not from the cold, but from the empty feeling that seemed to suck all emotion from her, turning all possible emotions into nothing. What was it that was making her feel so lifeless?
A few days later came Raoul's funeral, which had taken place Friday evening before sunset. It was a large funeral, most of the students of Cabot High in attendance. Christine showed up in a short black dress she had once bought in Florida and day dreamed of wearing on a romantic date with Raoul. The circumstances were immensely different as she slowly walked into the funeral parlor, much to the surprise of her old "friends". Despite their glares and angry words, she held her head high and clutched her black rose, determined to pay her respects.
The casket was closed, Christine involuntarily cringing as she imagined the state of the face she knew so well.
'Probably worse than Erik's…' she had thought sadly.
As tempted as she was to lift the casket lid to see for herself, Christine caught the sound of Raoul's mother sobbing bitterly, and decided it would be wrong to cause her even more pain.
"I can't believe you had the nerve to show up!"
Christine's stomach clenched as she recognized the voice of her accuser. She turned around to see Devon there, his arms crossed.
"I came here for closure, Devon," she sighed heavily, "nothing more, nothing less."
Devon seemed not to have heard her as he walked towards her eye to eye.
"You're lucky Carlotta isn't here to see you," he spat angrily, "she probably would've had a relapse."
Christine stared him down, eager to prove that she wasn't afraid of him or anyone anymore.
"Well, Carlotta would just have to deal; Raoul and I were together for a much longer time than she with him."
Devon laughed mockingly and shook his head.
"Don't you think she knows that? Don't you think that's the main reason she is so upset? That you got to spend so much time with him when you both seemed to hate each other so much at the end, and she so little?"
Christine frowned at him, her temper boiling at his words. She clenched her fists, her eyes widening as she finally let go of all that had been plaguing her since the breakup.
"Don't you dare accuse me of hating him!" she screamed, not giving a damn about the weeping crowd that glared furiously at her, "he's the one that let me down! He's the one that never told me why he didn't love me anymore! I WAS THE ONE THAT WAS USED!"
Devon stammered as she pushed past him, anxious to leave this place of anger and contempt. Christine practically flew past the inquisitive stares of the mourners, out the double French doors to the peaceful graveyard, just feet away from the funeral home.
It was a very peaceful graveyard in the nighttime, as the sun had long since set, the glorious full moon peeking over the rustling trees which surrounded the property. Christine, her previous anger alleviated, began to stroll among the gravestones, her black rose twirled around her fingers, the moonlight illuminating the words inscribed eternally. She let her eyes wander over these mysterious names and dates, most unknown to her, but one making her stop in her tracks.
"Daddy…"
Christine kneeled in front of her father's grave, which stood at the edge of the cemetery, beside the grave of her grandfather, who she could sometimes barely remember.
'It's not fair…' she thought sadly as she rearranged the simple lilies that her grandmother had undoubtedly left days before in the weak light.
Gary Michael Day, her father, had been deceased for only two years at the most, a victim of lung cancer from years and years of smoking. Perhaps he was the reason she opposed smoking so much, or maybe it was because her grandfather had died of the same disease when she was only in the fifth grade.
Her parents had divorced shortly after the death of her grandfather, her father still heartbroken from the loss. Maybe he had lost his will to live as he prompted his fate.
Christine sighed as she touched each headstone, memories flooding her mind as she did so, and as she thought of her grandmother who seemed unable to pull herself from the past.
You were once
My one companion . . .
You were all
That mattered . . .
You were once
A friend and father -
Then my world
Was shattered . . .
"Daddy, I wish you were here again, you always used to tell me what to do. Why can't I say goodbye to Raoul?"
Wishing you were
Somehow here again . . .
Wishing you were
Somehow near . . .
Sometimes it seemed
If I just dreamed,
Somehow you would
Be here . . .
Wishing I could
Hear your voice again . . .
Knowing that I
Never would . . .
Dreaming of you
Won't help me to do
All that you dreamed
I could . . .
Christine stood up, brushing the few pieces of grass off her bare knees, circling her father's gravestone. He would have known what to do. What wisdom did she miss out on when she was too young to understand the tribulations of the heart?
Passing bells
And sculpted angels,
Cold and monumental,
Seem, for you,
The wrong companions -
You were warm and gentle . . .
Tears of anger and frustration stung her eyes and threatened to fall as her mind seemed fit to burst under the strain of uncertainty. What made Raoul not love her anymore? What exactly was the argument that led to the accident? Did he realize that he loved her once more and wanted to be with her again, to the great dislike of Carlotta?
Too many years
Fighting back tears . . .
Why can't the past
Just die . . .?
Wishing you were
Somehow here again . . .
Knowing we must
Say goodbye . . .
Try to forgive . . .
Teach me to live . . .
Give me the strength
To try . . .
"NO!"
Christine threw her arms up to the starlight heavens, screaming for release. It was over! No more pathetic longing for Raoul, he was dead and gone. He didn't love her, he never did! It was all a dream!
No more memories,
No more silent tears . . .
No more gazing across
The wasted years . . .
Help me say
Goodbye.
She hear the mournful cries of a bag pipe playing "Amazing Grace," and decided it was time to let her past die.
Christine ran across the moonlit strewn graveyard to the ceremony, just as Raoul's coffin lowered slowly six feet under. She glanced down at the black rose she was still holding, the very rose she had started carrying because of him and tossed it into his eternal resting place.
Help me say
Goodbye…
'Goodbye, Raoul. Maybe I can be at peace with your memory at last.'
Ok, I'm sorry about the delay and I hope this chapter was to your liking. Please review! Love and Peace! Kupo!