cursed (2022)

prolouge

"Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also."

-

All of my friends showed to Billy's funeral, but I dared not speak a word to any of them. The mood was nothing short of gloomy. Billy's dad and my mom had barely made eye contact the entire time. They hadn't been on actual speaking terms for what felt like forever, leaving Billy's dad to plan most of the funeral by himself. My mom still attended, but not all that willingly.

My parents had been fighting a lot. Stupid fights, serious fights. Fights about me and Billy. The fighting got so bad and ended in divorce, so mom and I are going to be moving to a trailer park.

For a while, I would stay with my friends whenever it got too bad- mostly Will and Eleven or Lucas. I never told them why I was over so much, so maybe they just assumed that I only wanted to spend more time with the people I love before Will and El moved away. I stopped coming over when I realized there was no use in running.

Before I came to the church, I had bought Billy an assortment of different flowers. No two were alike. I don't really know why, I guess I think he deserves as many different flowers as I can get my hands on. Even then it's not enough.

I wouldn't tell anyone, but I feel bad about what had happened. Not in the way everyone else feels. I feel guilty, like it was my fault. I mean, is it not? I could've done something. I could've pulled him away, or I could've jumped in front of him, let him be selfish and shield himself, only that time I wouldn't have cared, because I wouldn't be overcome with the guilt I'm feeling right now.

I'm always reminiscing over the event as if I can change it- as if I can turn back time and change what happened, but I can't. God knows I stood there and I watched in horror as that monster killed Billy. It's set in stone, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

Everyone is always asking if I'm was okay, or if I'm feeling alright. Anytime anyone asks, I simply lie and brush it off. I wish people would stop. It didn't matter. Pity and weak attempts to comfort me isn't enough to rid of this feeling. It'd only be a matter of time before everyone forgot, anyway. A week after the funeral, people stop caring.

The priest fixed his tie, "Today, we gather to honor and grieve William Hargrove."

I spaced out for a lot of the service. I didn't want to listen to a bunch of bullshit lies the entire time.

"Billy died in a mall fire"

"His life was taken because of the fire along with Jim's"

"His death is not in vain"

I also didn't want to listen to his father's speech where he claimed to love Billy, but only ever hurt him. I just felt terrible the entire time. I had always wished that Billy would die because of the hell he put me through. But I never thought it'd actually happen.

Not that much later, it was my turn to view the body. I picked out one of the flowers from the bouquet at random and laid it in his casket. I couldn't even bring herself to touch him. Hell, it was difficult to even look at him. His cold, dead body. I wouldn't touch him, I couldn't. How could I?

I could only stare. I didn't say anything to him. No meaningful words, no apology. If I spoke even a word, I think I'd break.

Shortly after the viewing, I took a seat by my mom who squeezed my hand. She knew I'd been cooped up in my room. Out of everyone in that house, I think I'm taking his death the worst right now, and I don't know if it's because I saw it with my own two eyes, or if it's because of the guilt it brought upon me, or maybe even because I can't tell anyone how he really died. Maybe it's for all of those reasons.

I'm always in my bed just to never sleep. So many sleepless nights, so many tear stains on my pillow. My mom feels bad, she had talked to me the previous night.

"Baby, it gets worse before it gets better."

"I know,"

I'm really counting on my mother's words. I'm praying to every God that there is that the guilt will stop dragging me down one day. Everything was changing now, and not at a pace I'm content with.