Learning Purpose [Unus Annus Fanfiction]

Part 10- Broken Grief

(Pic Credit: https://www.redbubble.com/shop/unus+annus+clocks)

(TW: Depression, Anxiety, Bullying, Grief, Gore, Mental Breakdowns, Mild Suicidal Thoughts. Thought I should put this here since this is a different TW than in the description. If you can't tell this is a fairly depressing chapter.)

-Amy

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, something I find myself doing frequently as of late. I lay in the middle of the bed, and although the covers suffocate me, I'm still cold. Numb, in fact.

The realization comes in waves. One moment I'll be crying and sobbing on the bathroom floor wanting to die, the next I'll be laughing at something on the TV, not a memory in mind. It's a never ending cycle that I would give anything to get out of.

He's gone.

He's really gone.

A tear glides down my cheek, but I can barely feel it until it touches my ear. I close my eyes. I'll be okay...

Right?

I can't stop the overflow of memories that occur with the waves of emotion as I picture Mark dressed up in his silly costumes dancing around the living room, or Mark waiting excitedly for me to come down the stairs and proudly serve breakfast, or Mark and I sitting watching the sun set around us, sitting in comfortable silence that just seems to add to the magic of the moment.

He's gone now. Just gone.

I roll over to my side as my phone rings, and I contemplate picking it up. Deep down there's still hope that Mark is on the other end of that call, but the rest of me knows not to get my hopes up. I simply press a pillow against my other ear and sigh, waiting for the ringing to subside. It seems to take forever, but it finally stops. I relax.

Then it starts ringing again. In utter annoyance and undirected anger, I twist on the bed to pick up the stupid phone. Without looking at the caller ID, I press "talk."

"Hello?" I didn't realize how puffy and broken I sounded until hearing it out loud. My voice cracks a little but I don't try to stop my emotions, it's too much energy that I don't have.

"Amy?" Bob's voice comes over the speaker wobbly. "Are you here yet?"

I lay to face the ceiling again, silently cursing my memory. I was supposed to pick up Bob and Wade from the airport probably 30 minutes ago.

"No, sorry." I say bluntly. It sounds meaner than I intend it to. "I'll head there now."

"Take your time." Bob's voice sounds calm, and I almost despise him for his relaxed composure. How can he be ok when one of his closest friends just died?

I hang up and slowly roll out of bed, still in my pajamas. Away from the covers and the safety of my bed, the room is cold, frigid even. I shiver as I dress in decent clothing. I've barely been out of that bed in at least a week, so it takes a minute before my legs stop swaying and my vision clears from lack of iron.

I keep my eyes on the ground as I move about the house, not wanting to trigger an unwanted memory or be reminded of my painful existence and Mark's lack thereof.

When I get into the kitchen, Chica and Henry sit by the table, waiting patiently. They always used to eat food from our plates when we weren't looking, and I guess they've missed that over the past few days that I've hardly eaten.

I sigh and pat Chica on the head. She whimpers softly and looks towards the door. I can see it in her face that she's waiting for Mark to come through it and give her the love he always did.