~*~
Spoiler! :
Rated for strong language.
Reviews and likes are greatly appreciated.
~*~
After the funeral, after everyone was gone, the mourners, the caterers, the cleaners and all that was left was a immaculately clean house and a sickening sense of emptiness, I realized I couldn't stay.
I stood from the corner where I was sitting, hunched up, my arms wrapped around my knees and walked up the stairs to my room. It looked the same as always, a dirty shirt on my the floor, my English essay, half-written, on my computer desk.
The clothes I was wearing, not the same from the night I died, but the clothes they put me in at the hospital, after I was officially announced dead, were perfectly fine and I had a feeling I didn't really need to, or maybe I couldn't really change ever again. I grabbed my tote bag and walked over to my corkboard, swallowing hard as I stared at the dozens of pictures, a collage, all of them overlapping each other.
The first one I took down was the only family portrait I had, the one we took when I was 14, old enough to want freedom but young enough to be afraid of it. My father had his arm around my mom and her hand rested on his back. I was leaned into my mom, hugging Lucy to my side and my father had his hand resting on her shoulder. We were all laughing, not at the stupid joke the photographer had said but at the fact that we were taking Christmas pictures in July and the snow was really pieces of foam some guy on a ladder above us was not-so-gently dropping. I had loved us then.
The second was of Angelina, at her singing recital, looking breath-taking, sending chills up my spine as she reached the highest note in the song. She was wearing this simple but sophisticated green dress and flats, tippy-toeing with her arms out-stretched, looking like the prettiest thing in the world. It was a very classy event and not exactly the most fun place for a pair of sixteen year old's so, me and her had snuck up to the roof to get some air. We had lay on our backs, whispering and giggling about stupid things, our pinkys laced together. I had loved her then.
The third was of me and Aiden, on our way to prom, looking more like the adults we were going to be than the silly teenagers we were that would get drunk and have sex later on that night. I hated my dress, this long hour-glass black thing, that clashed with my hair and made me look like I was on my way to a funeral. Aiden looked amazing as usual, his chestnut hair floppily falling into his face as he pushed my chin up and kissed me softy, murmering that I looked beautiful in whatever I wore. I kissed him back until my father cleared his throat and we all blushed and laughed like we were in a 50's TV show. Later, when we met up with the others, Tyler and Nina walking along with Daniel and his boyfriend James, I had a strange feeling that this was the last time we'd all be happy. Throughout the night, Aiden never let go of my hand, his eyes bright as he kissed me at random times, as if to let me know always that he was mine. I had loved him then.
The fourth was of me and Nina, kind of tipsy at Julia Lycrowski's Sweet 16. We were on the court, so our dresses were identical baby pink with these ridiculous glittery star things on them. The party was nice and family-friendly until her parents called it a night and left. After that, everyone shed the ugly pink dresses and awkwardly formal suits, switched the pink lemonade with vodka and the atmosphere changing faster than the speed of light, so quick, you could blink and miss it. Daniel had taken the picture but we had refused to talk or dance with any of the guys, allowing them to watch us dance, watch us laugh, watch us love but never allowing them to touch. I had loved her then.
And finally, I took the corkboard off the wall and turned it over, peeling off the final picture I would take. It was my fifteenth birthday party and my mom was sneaking up to take a picture, her face clear of stress lines and her eyes still full of tears that haven't spilled quite yet. We were in the basement and Tyler was on the couch next to me, telling me something that was so incredibly hilarious then but I can't remember now. Aiden and Nina were playing spit on the floor and Daniel was watching a soccer game on the tiny black TV we had with Montag and Adam. I was laughing so hard, my head tilted back a little and my hand over his. Tyler had this little smile on his face and I loved him so much it hurt. Later that night, I got my first kiss. I had loved him then.
I put the pictures in my bag with my journal, my camera and my phone, slightly shaking. There was a knot in my throat as I went to my drawer and took out the small black box I had been given on my fifteenth birthday, after I had been kissed. The necklace was simple, a silver chain and a little charm, a sideways eight- infinity. My fingers trembling as I took it out of the box, my fingers brushing against the velvet lining, taking out my necklace corpse from it's coffin and slipped it on, unable to clip it together for a good five minutes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that it should be impossible for me to touch things, to take things, but I supposed the universe worked in strange ways and nobody would notice the photographs or my necklace gone.
I left and went to Lucy's room, where she lay on her bed, dried tears making tracks down her face, her eyes closed in sleep. I pushed her golden strands of hair off her face and kissed her forehead gently.
"Sleep well," I whispered and for a moment, I believed she heard me as she rolled over and her face relaxed.
My parents were separate but together, in the same bed but miles apart. My mother looked like a ghost, with her dark hair down, surrounding her pale face. Her make-up had smudged all over, creating black circles around her eyes. She looked haunted and ghastly and so tired that I couldn't even move towards her, couldn't disrupt whatever sleep she had managed to get. I turned towards my father, walking close to se-
"Chloe?"
I froze.
"Chloe? Is that you? Are you here?" My father's voice was gruff and cracked with grief as he said my name.
I swallowed hard and moved closer to him.
His hair was ruppled and he looked insane, with bright, wide eyes staring into space, staring at no one, at nothing. He didn't really hear me because I made no sound, didn't really see me because I wasn't there. It was like I was in a different dimension, on a different plane, able to see people and touch things while dead but I was invisible to the living.
"Chloe, please don't, please, forgive me. I'm sorry, Chloe. I didn't- I shouldn't, I can't have you be mad at me anymore. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry."
I knew my father was speaking to himself, attempting to forgive himself but I still ran from the room, running down the stairs two at a time. There were tears dancing down my face as I reached the front door, opened it and slammed it shut, leaving behind guilt that wasn't mine and apologies I didn't want.
~*~
Spoiler! :
Gender:
Points: 805
Reviews: 336