Sky wasn't sure how many days had passed since Cody's death.
The flow of time meant nothing to her. Buried under the covers, the drapes of her bed shut, the curtains closed, it hardly mattered if it was day or night. She was like an insect trapped in a spider's web, unable to break free. She was stuck in her grief, stuck in time, stuck in the darkness, stuck in the gut-wrenching moment when she stepped into Cody's room and saw him dead on the bed, his blood coating the sheets, the floor, the wall.
Reliving that moment over and over again was taking its toll on her. Days passed, but she couldn't move on.
She couldn't eat. She couldn't drink. She couldn't sleep.
And she couldn't let anyone near. Wrapping herself in her misery, she shut out the whole fucking world, knowing she deserved this suffering, this loneliness. Cody was dead, his head was in pieces, his blood was on her hands, he was dead and it was her fault.
She didn't even know what had happened to him after— after she'd been dragged out of that room.
No one would tell her anything. People came and went, but no one said anything about what had happened to Cody's body, if there was going to be a funeral— and Sky had no words to ask.
A funeral—
That thought was a dagger through her heart. She knew she wouldn't have been welcome, even if there was one. And it would have been impossible to face Cody's family, his friends, his siblings— but still, the fact that she didn't even know if Cody was buried, or cremated, or if his stiff, lifeless body was stored in the morgue, where he was alone and cold and scared, alone in the dark, with no one to hold him and tell him it was okay, that he was loved, that he was safe— It haunted Sky day and night.
The pain was more than she could take. Cody— not him anymore, but just a broken, empty shell— his skin turning blue, his cheeks growing hollow, his scent disappearing under the smell of decay— Sky felt like her insides were carved out. Her ribs were cracking under the horrible weight of her guilt. She wouldn't survive this loss, she didn't even want to survive it.
If everyone else was dying, why couldn't she?
Cody had just wanted to be loved, and she had failed him. He had died scared and alone and he was gone forever, and Sky knew she deserved all the awful things that came to her.
She deserved her guilt-filled misery, and she deserved the messages on her phone, the anonymous messages calling her a whore, a bitch, a murderer. Telling her that she was a monster, that she should kill herself for what she had done, that Cody should have shot her instead of himself, should have put a bullet in her stupid head.
Sky didn't disagree. They were right. All of them. It should have been her, bleeding to death instead of Kat two years ago— and it should have been her head in pieces on the floor and the wall, instead of Cody's.
God, how she craved death. It was the only thing she wanted. The dark door was wide open once again, letting through the voices that called her name day and night, voices whispering into her ears that she should just do it— and then there would be peace, there would be silence.
But Dad wouldn't leave her out of his sight, he even slept in her room to make sure she was safe, as if she deserved his love, his care. He kept her alive - against her will - and Sky had no strength to fight him.
During the endless nights when she couldn't sleep, Sky kept reading the messages people had sent her, and not all of them were hateful. There were other kinds of messages too - words of kindness, of compassion - from Moon, Demetri, Miguel— and Sam.
That one hurt Sky more than all the others combined.
Sam's text was raw and honest. I'm sorry I haven't always been there for you. I'm sorry we argued. Just send me a word and I'll come. Whatever you need. I just want to help. Her words made Sky cry in the darkness of the night, they hurt like a knife in the heart. God, how she missed Sam, missed their friendship. She wished Sam was here, now, helping her, telling her it was all going to be okay, but—
Sky had no strength to even answer that message. And she sure as Hell didn't deserve anyone's kindness, anyone's care. Sam had been right about everything, about her being selfish and creating drama, about her only causing problems for everybody. She had been right to keep away and everyone should do the same.
Sky knew she was poison. She was getting innocent people killed, when the only one she should have killed was herself.
So days passed, but she didn't leave her bed.
She knew Dad was worried. She knew that Dad didn't deserve all the shit she put him through— but even that wasn't enough to get her out of her miserable state. There was no strength in her body, everything hurt, her very bones ached with sorrow. Somewhere outside of her bed, outside of her room, outside of this house, there was a world full of sunshine and birds and beaches and friends and parties and milkshakes and boys and music— but she wanted nothing to do with it. It wasn't for her. It only existed for other people now, people who could still live and laugh and love, people who still had a heart. She wasn't one of those people anymore. She was barely a person. The only thing she wanted was endless silence, but in every sound she heard the gunshot. It was trapped inside of her chest, just like she was trapped in her room, trapped in time unable to move on from the moment the gun had gone off.
Dad wasn't the only one who worried. Hawk visited every day, and Sky knew she was breaking his heart too, but there was nothing she could do about it. Even his love wasn't strong enough to free her from the prison she had built for herself.
He brought her drinks and snacks, which she didn't touch. He opened the curtains of her room to let in the sunlight, but as soon as he had left, Sky closed them as if sunlight was an insult, an enemy. But if that discouraged Hawk, he didn't let it show. For hours, he sat on the bed with her, giving her words of love, of comfort, sweet and kind and gentle words that she didn't want to hear, that she didn't deserve.
And she had no answers to give to him.
Her mouth was dry from dehydration, her throat raw from crying, and all the words she knew were gone. The black pit in her stomach had swallowed them, the same pit that had trapped her in this room, in this bed, it had swallowed her voice and tied it into a tight knot that squeezed the air out of her lungs. She couldn't have spoken even if she wanted to.
That didn't stop Hawk from talking to her. During the hours and days he spent in her room, he told her what was going on in the outside world. He told her that everyone missed her (which she didn't believe) that they were worried (which made her feel even worse), that even the senseis had sent their condolences and hoped she would soon come back to training (which she would never do). He told her of the mountain of flowers and cards in front of Cody's locker in the school, and of the candlelight memorial Cody's friends had organized for him - to which Sky hadn't been invited.
The sharp pain that thought caused was almost unbearable. She would have wanted to go, oh so very badly— she would have wanted to go and cry and light a candle—
But all his friends fucking hated her for what she had done. Who would invite a murderer to someone's memorial? Sky knew she had no right to even mourn Cody. Without her, he would still be alive, without her his friends would still have him, and that was a fact.
Sky didn't let Hawk see how badly that thought hurt. She buried her face against the filthy, blood-stained pillow, and after waiting for her answer for a short while in vain, Hawk gave up and moved on to the next topic, telling her that Counselor Blatt had been fired.
That might have been the only positive outcome of Cody's death.
Apparently, Blatt had broken several protocols handling Cody's case, and the school board held her responsible. They're saying it's her fault he did it— Hawk told Sky. She pushed him way too hard, and then just let him run away from his office to kill himself. So if it's anyone's fault, it's Blatt's. And— of course that asshole's who tipped off that Cody was selling.
There was a video, Hawk continued, a video that showed Cody giving pills to some girl in the hallway. Everyone was talking about it in school, trying to figure out who had filmed it, who had given it to Blatt— and if it was the same person who had also leaked the video to social media. I– I'm not sure who it was— Could be anyone. I mean, a deal gone sour or something— I guess Cody had some enemies, Hawk said, but Sky knew better.
She had seen that video too, during the dark hours of the night when she couldn't sleep, and the laughter in the background was way too familiar for her to ignore.
Kyler.
Sky knew Kyler had hated Cody ever since he had beaten him up—
But blaming Kyler didn't change anything.
It might have been Kyler wanting to get revenge, who sent the video to Blatt. And it might have been Blatt who had pushed Cody too hard and threatened him instead of reaching out to help. But Kyler had only been out for Cody's blood because Sky had told him what Kyler had done—
So it all came back to her, no matter what Hawk or anyone else said or thought.
Had Cody never fallen in love with her, he would still be alive. The last time they had spoken, he had said Don't apologize for what was the happiest time of my life, but that was a lie, it was a dagger through her heart, for Sky knew she had brought him nothing but pain, misery, and death. Don't be sad, he had said, it's not your fault, but it was her fault, her above everyone else, and it was too much, too much to take, too much to endure. This pain was worse than anything she had ever felt.
When Kat had died, at least it had happened so fast that she hadn't probably even realized it, she had been happy 'till the moment the bullet went through her heart. And Luke— he had been high and in bliss when he died. But Cody—
Cody had known what he was about to do. He had known it already when talking to her in the parking lot, and she had done nothing to stop him. She had just let him walk away, and he had died alone and scared, thinking that no one loved him, that no one cared, and for that Sky could never forgive herself.
Her only wish was that she would die too.
Two or three days after Cody's death, the doctor came to see her again. She had been here a couple of times already, but this time her face was serious when she stepped into her room.
Sky had no energy to even pretend she noticed her presence.
She knew she looked like crap, no matter that Dad had wiped her hands and her face with a wet towel and brushed her hair. Her skin was still stained with dried blood and the clean T-shirt Dad had forced her to change into the day before, did little good as she had refused to shower. Underneath that clean, soft cotton, she was still filthy. Her hair was greasy and matted, glued to her scalp and she knew she smelled like the sewer.
She knew that she looked awful, but she didn't care. She just wanted that lady to go, to leave with her stupid instruments and her stupid questions. To leave and stop looking at her with her kind eyes and stop asking questions she didn't want to, could not answer. She just wanted to pull the covers back over her head, to go back to not eating, not drinking, not sleeping, to go back to dying.
But the doctor talked with Dad in the hallway for a long, long time, and even if Sky couldn't make out the words, she heard how serious they were, how stern and she heard the tremor in Dad's voice, the one she knew meant he was holding back tears. When the doctor finally came back to Sky's room, she gave her a shot. Sky was too tired to resist, her words were too far gone to be brought back, to even ask what it was that she was given—
The warmth spread into her body quickly, melting away the pain, the sorrow, the ache, snapping the tight band around her lungs. No. God, no— She didn't want this. She didn't want to feel better, to breathe, to sleep. She didn't deserve to feel better, didn't deserve to have a moment of peace. No. No. No—
But Dad was there on the bed next to her, and he took her head into his lap, and his fingers were running through her hair again and again and again. His love felt like warm wings that wrapped around her body, so soft, so comforting, and she was so, so tired—
For the first time in days, sleep washed over her in a wave, pulling her into the darkness.
Some hours later, Sky woke up.
It was the middle of the night, the room was dark and silent. Dad must have opened the curtains at some point, as the pale moonlight entered through the windows painting the room with black and white and silver. Dad wasn't on the bed with her anymore, but Sky could hear his soft, even breathing from where the mattress was on the floor.
The ache in Sky's chest was gone, the air flowed easily into her lungs, and her body was soft, light, weightless, as if it wasn't made of flesh but of moonlight. She felt like she had slept for a year, and all the tiredness, the fog of her mind, was gone. Her thoughts were clear, sharp, her senses alert.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Sky sat up.
She wasn't alone.
The whispering shadows had gathered around the tall, slender figure who was leaning on the wall next to the window, dressed in black. The pale, moving patches of moonlight danced on the sharp cheekbones, but the shadows hid her eyes from Sky.
It didn't matter. She knew who it was, like someone knows her own name, her own heart, her own soul.
"We need to talk," Kat said and stepped out of the shadows.