Thank You

Aftermath

"... in complete shock when Detective Andrew Upton shot his pregnant wife in front of his children. Mary Collins, a neighbor, caught him on camera and probably saved the life of seventeen-year-old Diana..."

"Turn it off."

The screen goes back to black and silent. My mother is staring at me, the remote still in her hand, and her face just tells me she wants to talk to me but doesn't know what to say or where to start.

"You don't have to go back to school, Diana. You can just take the classes online for the end of the year."

"I need to see Ash."

They tried to call me dozens of times, and all I could say to them was that I was physically alive, and that I would talk to them face to face when the time would be right. But that was nearly three weeks ago. Almost three whole weeks since that faithful night.

"You can see her outside of school. Them. Them, sorry. You can see them without going back."

"Didn't you tell me I needed to go back to normal life ?"

"Diana. I understand that you went through something very traumatic. I didn't agree with this thing you had with that woman, but I understand that you lost someone close in a horrible way. I understand if you need more time."

"Well, that's new."

Everything about that one night three weeks ago is blurry. Everything – or most things – I know about what happened is what I read in the papers or heard on the radio. I know I could probably remember if I tried, but I don't want to. I know all I would feel is more guilt, and I feel guilty enough to make me want to die already. I have flashes. They come to me at any time of the day, at random times. They sting. They hurt. It is more pain than a person can handle.

"Diana, stop. I just said it might help not to be locked inside your room all day. Not that you had to go back to living like nothing happened."

I can't recall what happened, but I know chaos was all there was. While I was holding Cate's body close to my heart, this one neighbor started filming the scene on her phone. For a while I was at her for doing so. Whatever I said to Cate that night was private, but then, if Mary Collins had not been there, he would probably be roaming free. I don't know how he spotted that neighbor, but he dropped the gun and started running off, in vain. He was found less than twenty-four hours later in an old, abandoned factory he closed down himself.

Everything was simply chaos around me as I held Cate's body in my arms, but the lights changed, they started flickering as the ambulance and the police cars rushed toward us. I could hear the voices like they were very far away ; mere echoes of what truly was going on around me. I could feel the touches, the hands trying to pull me apart from my one and only true love. I can remember how I screamed. How I screamed in pain and anger. I can remember the pain when they finally succeeded in separating me from Cate's inanimate body. How it felt like my soul had been ripped off my half-living body.

"Yeah, right."

"Diana, stop, I am not a monster. I do understand."

I still wish he had had time to pull the trigger a second time to kill me too. I would very much rather be dead than to be in that much pain. I may act like I can function, but the truth is I could collapse at any moment. The pain is unlike anything I have ever felt before. I don't even think it was that painful when dad and Ro died in front of my very eyes. Cate was someone I just could not bear seeing die. It was just too much. Can't anybody I love more than my own life stay alive ?

"You can't understand."

"Do you seriously think it did nothing to me ? Your dad and Romeo... dying ? Do you think you're the only one who's suffered because of that ? I do understand, Diana !"

"It's not the same fucking thing !"

The words come out as a yell. I wish they did not, but I just couldn't help it.

"You're not the only one who feels pain, Diana. I know you lived through horrible things, but it does not allow you to invalidate other people's feelings and experiences."

I know she is right, but my brain cannot register any information since that night three weeks ago. I don't know what happened – I said it already – but I found myself in my own house very quickly. Far away from Cate. I have flashed of images of my mother rushing to me to touch me and talk to me to make sure I wasn't hurt. I wasn't physically hurt. But inside... I can't remember if I replied to any of her questions, but I think I probably just stayed silent and collapsed on my bed.

My entire life for a few days is a blur. I cannot remember anything but pain. Terrible pain. And then I just woke up and walked to the kitchen to get myself some food. I don't know how I could do it. Most probably because Cate's voice was ringing in my head, telling me she wanted me to live for her. And as cliché as it sounds, and as difficult as it sounds, I did try to live again, mere days after that one night.

So here I am, standing outside my room, hearing words I have heard too many times already. But how could I blame people, really ? Husbands do not murder their wives everyday in our small city. I wish they did not know, but it seems I will never have control over this entire night. Any aspect of it.

"I'm gonna go see them now, then."

"Are you going back to school, then ?"

"I don't know. Not today."

You can try to live life as it was, but such traumatic event cannot be put aside and forgotten. It is quite obvious that it leaves a mark, and that anybody going through that kind of life experience comes out changed, different. It isn't just a random story you tell your friends about, after all. It is the kind you wish nobody would know about, because the only reaction to death that people know is pity, and who doesn't hate pity ?

"Are you coming back, Diana ?"

"What ?"

"Are you coming back home ?"

I wish I could erase every memory. I wish I could take it all back from the start. Then, everything could be so beautiful. Life could be beautiful. But here, every single thing brings back an image linked to suffering in a way or another. Here, everything is made to bring me back to the times I wish I could leave behind me.

"I don't know."

I don't have to look at her to feel my mother's tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Diana."

"It's okay."

"I am sorry."

"You didn't really do anything."

"I could've helped you."

"No. No, you couldn't have. I have to help myself. I have to find myself."

Her eyes are shining with tears, and flashes of Cate's ocean gaze filling up with cries rises in my brain.

"You're right. I'm gonna go. I'm gonna pack a bag, walk out the door like I'm coming back in a few hours, but I'm not gonna come back."

What dreadful words to hear.

"I will come back, mom. I don't know when, but I will. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

She's trying not to let me see her body shaking. I want to touch her, hug her, but it would only make it harder.

"Go. Heal. And live. Please start living. You've wasted enough time surviving only."

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i am writing these words half drunk and crying, so i'm sorry if some shit doesn't make sense, i actually might change a few things when i sober up, we'll see. i should probably stop writing and drinking at the same time.