Collect of Short Stories

13 Became 12

"I don't believe it." Murmured Valerie. "I don't...I can't...this—this is...what the hell?" She stared wide eyed at Maddison's grave which, despite all the quarrels she held with others, they all pitched into to make it look neat enough.
      Valerie, who stood nearest to the tombstone didn't get the chance to place down a set of purple flowers before bursting into heavy tears. Her hands shook violently as as her knees began to buckle from under her.
     Despite such a sorrow day, the sky shined down on the group brightly. Birds migrated happily with their family as the clouds drifted apart, only to come back together once more. A light breeze picked up, dancing their way through the trees and if Maven shut his eyes briefly, he could've sworn he heard Maddison speak to them.
     "I am so...so sorry! I didn't know...If only I..." her voice trailed off, unable to form any coherent sentences without being interrupted by loud hiccups. Surprisingly, Nico was the first to comfort her. He walked beside the female and placed red roses down before planting a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. It didn't lessen her cries but her shoulders relaxed at his touch.
     In spite of Maven being closer to Maddison than anyone else, he stood near the rear, watching others but mostly keeping an eye on the large dirt patch in the middle. It wasn't anyone's fault. Nobody directly caused her death, except for him.
     What he could've done was a question that will never be answered. He can ponder in it all he wants but that will only end in sleepless nights that'll slowly turn into lack of self care which will inevitably lead to depression.
     He glanced at Lyra. Though usually the person who held the most sour expression, sadness was the only emotion present on her face. Her bottom lip wavered occasionally and her body kept shivering even in the midst of the good weather. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
     Maven wanted to scold them all because he sure as hell knew each and everyone of them were blaming her death on themselves. And though it seems as though some such as Jill indirectly pushed her to the brink, Maven believes he was the ultimate choice maker. His actions were reflected onto what she did and clearly, he didn't do enough.
     Would an extra hug helped? Would a simple greeting just to acknowledge her steered her away from this ending? These will never be answered. And these unanswered questions will be all he will ever think about. They will plague his mind and eat him away until he will become a shell of a person he was once was.
     His face remained quite dry but a lump was beginning to form. He knew her better than anyone here but it wasn't enough. A single life ended in less than a second.
      He tore his eyes away from the grave and focused suddenly on Rafe who stood farthest to the right. The bags under his eyes has been deeper than the last time he saw him. Have they always been that dark?
     The tired male was staring off into the distance. Beyond the people beside him, beyond the tombstone, beyond the trees up ahead...just simply staring. He was the one who found the body. The first to experience both horror and regret, devastation and anger, self-loathing and pain. What could he possibly be thinking about? Maven didn't want to know.
     As Evelyn placed down a set of pink flowers, she kneeled down and said something. Her lips were moving but nothing could be heard. Whatever it was, her eyes grew puffy and it seemed as though she couldn't finish her thought before having to shut her mouth.
     She backed away, giving one last glance of the grave over her shoulder before tugging slightly on Maven's sleeve. He was last.
     He clutched the white flowers but no matter how tight he held it, it felt as though they were about to fall out of their grasp. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair. A sour feeling erupted in the back of his nose and he knew he was going to cry soon.
     He felt pairs of eyes burning into the back of his head but paid no attention to it. Instead, the real weight was the burden of knowing. He didn't need the others to pick up the pieces that were meant for him. No, let them go on with their lives and let him suffer. That is the correct punishment. A punishment he will gladly accept. That way, he'll take at least a bit of happiness to know he paid the price for being so neglectful.
     Lead replaced blood to the point where by the time he reached the edge of the dirt patch, his feet could no longer move. He molded his expression into something close to desperation. Hoping this is all some kind of sick joke and that she'll come out with a big smile and ask everybody if they wanted to hang out. Oh to speak to her one last time...
     But finally, he accepted the truth. She was dead. She was never coming back. They will never speak to her again.
     He knelt down and placed the flowers on top of so many others. Silence settled over the group and time seemed to slow.
     He spoke to her even though he knew he would never get to hear a response. What was the point of this? It's just wasting time. Why should you feel the need to communicate with someone who shot a bullet through their head? But he did it anyways.
     "I failed you. I didn't do enough. What I do will never be enough." The sadness inside him made room for anger.
     He placed his palms on the grassy field and clutched a handful of them if only to contain his immeasurable frustration. Tears washed over his eyes.
     "Why did you do it? Why did you get out a gun, put it beside your head pull the goddamn trigger!?" A dangerous hush fell over the group at his rising temper. But his mind couldn't bare to think about anything but Maddison and his failed attempt to save a life.
     He slumped his shoulders and tightened his jaw, narrowing his eyes at such a sight. Flowers of all different colors were piled high up. Red, orange, white, pink and purple were all perfectly placed.
     He felt a large but gentle hand being placed on his left shoulder. He didn't bother looking up. "It's not your fault, Maven." Gone is Wyatt's boisterous voice and his usual present sense of humor.
     It dulled itself into such a monotone voice which only added an extra layer of pain that settled on Maven's shoulder. Carefully, he stood up, not bothering to dust his pants before turning to face the rest of the group.
     Some stared back, others avoided his gaze but the most surprisingly thing of all was Jill coming over and wrapping her arms around him. Her embrace was so tight, it was like her life depended on it. She cried miserably into his shoulder blade and he let her.
     He couldn't care less if she ruined his attire, he just didn't. It wasn't her fault anyways.
     "T-this is all my fault! I'm s-so, so, so sorry! I  sh-shouldn't have said all those...s-stupid things..." her shrill voice trailed off as Maven slightly pushed her away, forcing her to stare at him.
     "Stop fucking blaming yourself. This," he gestured towards the grave. "Has nothing to do with you or may of you guys." Before she could object, he turned the other way, not keen of diving into a situation as to who was responsible for what. He already knew the answer.
     As time passed pay, one by one people left. It began with, Rafe. Besides Maven, his emotions were shocked in a way that was impossible to describe. He stumbled off, not bothering to say where he was going or when he'll be back.
     The group dispersed like pollen in the wind until all that was left was Maven and Lyra. Thunderclouds began to huddle overhead as light sprinkles of rain traveled down to the earth. Gone was the light.
     He had his knees up to his chest and he peeked over his arms, staring blankly at the grass below him. Lyra leaned against the grave, her eyes rested shut as if attempting to sleep.
     The 13 of them now became 12.