Already Gone

5

george

It was nearing 9 pm as I pulled on my fluffy socks. [they definitely weren't baby blue with cute white clouds on them no way]

I didn't lie to Dream, I had tried to sleep, but of course, he was right, my sleep schedule was in the wrong timezone to be able to drift off casually at eight in the evening. Thoughts were too busy bothering me, all tangled up like a ball of yarn. 

No wonder she's dead, with a son like that.

At least an apology would have been nice. 

She didn't even want you in the first place.

Even though she's dead, you still managed to disappoint her.

I couldn't help myself from feeling bad about the smashing of the pot. It made my head busy with guilt as if I needed to apologize. 

So that's what I decided to do.

I continued to stuff my feet into some old trainers, not really caring what I looked like.

It was dark out, but it didn't surprise me - it's always like this midway through December.

Not much surprised me anymore, everything felt expected.

My feet were uncomfortable, feeling trapped in my shoes, as were my thoughts. I wished that I didn't have to be on my way to a graveyard at 9 pm, I wished harder than anything - but nobody granted it.

What was only a drizzle when I first left the house had turned into full-on rainfall, hammering down onto my back. 

Whilst it probably wasn't that heavy, it felt like it was beating me to death. Apparently, I wasn't only losing the battle with myself.

The gates of the graveyard were peeling black paint, beneath revealing textured rusty metal.

They were wide closed, jammed shut. It looked like nobody had been here for more than a little while - which would comfort me normally, but instead creeped me out.

I shoved my whole body against the gates, as hard as I could, but they didn't budge. I knew I was fairly weak, but I assumed that launching my full body weight against the gate would create some sort of impact.

Instead of trying again, I decided on the next best thing and hoisted myself up and over the gate.

The cemetery was largely shaded by silver birch trees, each one bleeding sap; they shadowed over the graves. The gravestones were all old - moss climbing over all of them, so much so that you could barely see the names. They stuck out of the ground like rotten teeth.

Luckily, I knew where my mother's grave was, even though my memory was a little hazy. It had been years since I had last visited in person, visiting only resurfaced memories. Memories I knew I could never relive in the same way I first experienced.

Somehow, her stone seemed grittier than the rest, more aged. It looked unloved, forgotten, which forced an unswallowable amount of guilt into me. If only I had visited more often, maybe it wouldn't look rustier than the rest.

Out of impulse I reached out with a pawed hand and began to scrape away at the grime that had accumulated over the years it had been deprived, revealing the engraved information about her.

I wished I didn't have to be here, but I did, and it was well owed. 

"Hi, Mama." I shook out, deciding it was about time that I got it over and done with.

"I broke something. I broke something important. I didn't mean to. It was an accident. But it's the sort of thing that can't be fixed." I didn't really know what to say.

I came here to apologize, but now I was here I wasn't sure what else to say other than own up and apologies.

"I'm sorry..."

Usually, my advice for myself would be 'let it come from the heart', but I already tried that.

There was nothing there. Instead, I went by what was left of my instincts.

"...I'm so sorry. Not only for the pot. I should have visited you more, been there for you. Apologized sooner. Not only that, I should have helped you before you felt like you only had one option left. Before I lost you. I miss you. I miss you." each time I repeated it, it tasted blander on my tongue. Less meaningful. It meant less. So I said it more.

"I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you."

I said it over and over again as if I thought that if I said it enough it would bring her back. As if the only forgiveness I'd take was getting her back.

But unsurprisingly, she didn't come back. She didn't tap on my back and draw me into a sturdy hug, make me feel safe. Take me home and curl up on the sofa together.

Because she couldn't.

A buzz in my back pocket made my thoughts drop immediately.

It was Dream.

Of course, it was Dream,

Begrudgingly, I swiped right and accepted the call. He almost immediately started talking.

"George, I'm sorry that this probably isn't a good time, but I've got myself in the mindset now and I need to say this."

WORD COUNT: 871

Okay, enough of the whole side stories - trust me I'm here for the DNF too. I didn't fully edit this chapter so sorry for any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I spent so long brainstorming this chapter and I'm not fully content with it.

Anyways more DNF next chapter - but Idk if I want it good or bad.

I love you.

VOTTTTEEEEE o-o