The Devil's Gift/The Bloody Handed

6

(Atlantis by Seafret I'd recommend or Memories by Conan Gray)

Dear Eddie Munson,

This is day 43 without you.

This is stupid to be writing this. I'm slowly losing my mind. And I'm slowly losing myself. They were never able to recover your body. They never found it. We held a small funeral that I couldn't even attend. I spent it in your room trying to play your guitar. I'm left to create memories of you being eaten down to nothing. You promised me forever, but you gave up on me. You gave up, and let me go. And here I am, sitting at your makeshift grave and a cross made of two sticks tied together with string. I found your Polaroid pictures you were so proud of. I still can't even look at them. Your smile haunts me. Everyday gets harder without you. I don't have your lips to touch, or your embrace to comfort me. I don't have your funny remarks or your flirty ones. I don't get to see your smile. You even died smiling. Most of all, I don't have you. I cry myself to sleep every night. I live in your trailer alone. Your uncle must have left. I go to bed staring at that beer bottle that was now full of wilted "flowers." I smell the weed, cigarettes, and cheap cologne on your pillow every night. They're drenched with salty tears and nightmares. I wear your handkerchief around my head or my wrist everyday. I keep having dreams- nightmares, if you will. Nightmares of how good it used to be. Those times we laid in the fields. The time at lunch when I first met you. The times you gave me silly lessons. The time we played tag and sung and danced together. The time we made our first fire together. The time we argued and you finally asked me to be yours. The time you held me when I saw Mom and Dad die- they would have loved you. The way you comforted me, loved me. The time I woke up and you were the first person I saw. The time you and I smoked weed together and the way you laughed at me. I need you here. I don't know if I can go another day without you. I'd do anything for five more
minutes with you. Everyone tries to be here for me, but I can't accept the help. I don't have my person anymore. I wanted to die with you. And you should have let me. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas.. they're all devastated. Especially Dustin. He's handling it just as bad as I am. Max is awake and well now. But I can't seem to celebrate without you here.

This was supposed to be our year, Eddie Munson. And the moment you folded that handkerchief around my hand I knew that wasn't going to be the case. I know you can't see or read this, but I failed you. And I'm sorry. You may be dead, but I'm just as dead.

- Sincerely, Clary.

Tears burn in my eyes as I place the letter under a rock. I lightly trace the carved stone. My heart broke. Just like Eddie described, it felt as if a million pieces shattered. An unsolvable puzzle that no one could put together. I wipe my eyes and look down. I was wearing a shirt of his. It was all I had left. It smelled of him, it was the closest I could get to him. I reach over and pluck a small yellow dandelion and set it in front of the stone and under the rock. I close my eyes. I knew I shouldn't have expected a happy ending. I'm Clary Gregerson. I'm Absinthe Kreel. Whoever the fuck I was, I didn't deserve life.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the slow moving clouds. It was cloudy, gloomy. Hawkins was still recovering. Everything and everyone was in despair. I was utterly numb.

"Hey, Clary.." I look up to see Robin and Steve standing over me. I quickly sit up, and purse my lips.

"Hey.. what are you guys doing here?"

"Checking on you." Steve says, kneeling. He looks over at the grave and sighs. "You're here for hours a day. You need to take care of yourself sometime soon."

Robin kneels down and nods. "Steve is right. You're alone. You're grieving. We get that.. we all are in our own way. But please let us take care of you."

I shake my head. "I'm fine. I'm not moving an inch away from the trailer."

"This isn't good for healing, Clary.. you need people to talk to." Robin pleads.

"No, I don't. I need to be by him. Just in case he comes back." I look up and my lips start to tremble.

"I know you want him back, Clary. But he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself." Steve frowns.

"Steve is right. We have let you on your own for too long; we both know Eddie wouldn't want you to sit in isolation all day." Robin puts a hand on my shoulder.

I look to Eddie's grave. "This is all I have left.." I touch the handkerchief wrapped around my wrist stained in blood and dirt. I pull the Polaroid pictures out of my pocket, still flipped backwards.

I feel tears well up in my eyes, burning my cheeks as they slide down. I throw my face into my jacket sleeves and hold my breath trying not to cry profusely. I feel arms wrap around me, and the breath releases, a loud sob coming from my throat. "I miss him. I miss him so much." I shake my head and look at the dead grass which was clouded in my vision.

"Go ahead and carry her, Steve." Robin says. I feel my body hoist up into the air. I bring my head up and reach my arm out towards the grave. The paper blows up, the stone holding it down with the dandelion.

Eddie... what did I do to deserve this?