Carved
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Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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A/N: AH MA GAHD!! PEOPLZ LIKE IT THEYZ REALLY LIKZ IT!!
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Austins funeral had been scheduled for a week later.
Mitchie had already received a flood of emails, phone calls, everything.
There was even someone who came to the house to see her.
She felt like screaming.
All she did was date him for 6 months.
She wasnt family.
She wasnt planning on playing the distraught girlfriend.
But the only reaction she did have was staring at those messages.
The ones stating to her.
"Mitchie we are so sorry. We knew how much you guys liked eachother."
And at least 3 our of 4 people cried as they stated a message like that.
She simply deleted every single one.
Every single text message.
Every single phone call.
Every single email.
He was gone.
She couldnt change that.
It had happened.
They were officially over.
And she thought she had come to terms with that.
But really.
She never did.
Every night as she tried to fall asleep all she could see was his face purple.
In pain.
Begging her silently.
Guilt covered her like a blanket.
She should have done more than just sit there looking dumb.
She should have tried to save him.
But all she did was sit there and watch.
As he silently begged her.
Some nights she would fall back to sleep after hours of troubled thoughts.
And some nights.
Silent tears would roll down her cheeks knowing it was all her fault.
And she would sit there.
Staring out a window.
Or a wall.
Or anything.
Some nights she would stare at a mirror.
And look at herself.
She would see the dark circles under her eyes and her scrawny face that made her cheekbones appear sharp.
She saw how white she was.
Just like Austin as he lay there.
And she knew she deserved it.
It was punishment.
For watching him writhe and die.
As she looked in the mirror she would lightly run a finger along her thin lips.
Push back her stringy hair.
And stare at herself big eyed.
Punishment was being served.
This is what she deserved.
She earned it.
It was her fault.
Her fault.
Her fault.
Those two words reverberated off the back of her skull.
Bouncing in her head.
And as she stared at herself in the mirror one morning a soft meek knock landed on her door.
She didnt respond.
"Mitchie?"
No response.
She continued to softly trace her sharp edges.
Her chin.
Her cheeks.
Her nose.
Everything.
"Mitchie. Austins funeral is in 3 hours. Are you going?"
She could already see her mother standing outside the door holding a simple black dress.
All that erupted slowly from Mitchie was a quiet mouselike no.
But it was heard.
Because her mom went away.
Leaving Mitchie to enjoy her own self destruction.