So This Is Love ~~~~ R.P.

iii. The Five Stages of Grief

It's been two months since the boys died. 

I still refuse to believe it. 

My best friends, gone just like that. 

We didn't perform that night. Or any night afterward. 

Bobby and I felt that it wasn't right to continue the band without them, especially Luke. This was his dream. Bobby and I remained freinds, but nothing more. We were both devastated of the loss, obviously, but we couldn't bring it to ourselves to play again. At least, I couldn't. I never picked up my guitar, much less sang, since that night. I knew Luke would want me to at least try to continue music, but I just couldn't do it. 

My ceiling has three cracks in it. How have I not noticed this before? My head pounds as I press it against my pillow. 

"Jaiden, breakfast!" Beatrice yells. 

I didn't want to go down, but I've been in my room all week. I couldn't starve myself. 

Reluctantly, I slid out of bed. As I stood up, I looked around my room. Tissues overflowed my trashcan. Pages from my song book were torn and scattered across the floor. My light blue electric guitar sat in my closet. They boys had written on it, their signatures forever marked. I walked over and slammed my closet door shut. I rested my head on the door, letting out a strained sigh. My eyes burning. I took a deep breath and left my bedroom. 

It felt weird to walk around my house again. Probably because It had too many memories of the boys. Luke and I sliding down the banister when we were nine. Alex coming over to have boy talk. Reggie accidently breaking a flower pot the first time he came over. I smile, think of the memories. As I walk down the hallway, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is frizzy, I haven't brushed it in weeks. My eye bags have gotten bigger, darker too. Some mascara stains are still visible on my cheeks. My eyes bloodshot red from crying. My nose red too, for the constant rubbing of tissues. I try to fix my hair, but it's proven to be difficult. 

As round the corner to the kitchen. My sister sits on the island and my mother cooking something on the stove. Beatrice gives me a smile when she sees me. For the first time in a month, I smiled back. A genuine one. But my smile fades as my mother looks at me. Her face of pure disgust. I subconciously wipe my eyes and go to sit next to Beatrice. 

"Hey Jay! I missed you." Beatrice smiled. 

"I missed you too, Bea." I reply, grabbing an apple.

"That's all you're going to eat, Jaiden? Honestly..." My mother muttered. 

"Mom." Beatrice said sternly.

My mother then faced me, "You know, you ought to clean yourself up. Take a shower, put on clean clothes. You can't let this affect you so much. It's been, what, a month? Honestly Jaiden, it's in the past." 

I gaped at my mom, in utter shock. "Are you kidding me? My best friends died. How do you expect me to react? One day they were here, the next day they weren't. They liked me for who I was and now they're gone. I know you never liked them, but can't you respect them a human beings? Do you know how hard we worked? Oh wait, you never cared! So don't tell me how to feel when you have never experienced anything like this!" I yell, storming out of the house. 

"Jaiden, wait!"

I didn't listen. I just ran. Tears blurred my vision as my hair was forcefully pushed back by the wind. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going until I arrived to a certain garage. 

I stood at the bottom of a driveway, panting. Slowly, I approached the garage door. My hand shakily grasp the knob, closing my eyes. Turning it, I push open the door, a gust on air hitting me. It felt filling, it felt right. It took me a while to start walking around. Memories kept flooding back. The boys' instruments were still here. Luke's guitar, Reggie's bass, Alex's drums. Luke's songbook was missing from it's usual spot on the coffee table. I looked everywhere and I could find it. The sound of an opened door stopped me from my search, and I turned to see a familiar face.