What If He Didn't Die?

Chapter 52: Grief

Denial.

The first stage of grief. Which is soon followed by anger, bargaining, and depression, to finally reach acceptance.

Or at least that's how it should work. But for me, grief came just like everything else. Like havoc. In a drastically haphazard manner.

Following no chain, no system, no rules.

I witnessed myself going from anger to depression to bargain to depression to anger to bargain, back to anger then depression and bargain. The chain was wicked but one thing stayed constant.

Denial.

It never passed.

Until today.

And that's the cruellest part of denial, you don't know you're going through it until it ends.

And the worst part isn't when you're actually in denial. It rather begins when it ends and you realise what a fool you were to not see what was right in front of your eyes. When you realise how you've been making yourself suffer all this time for nothing but your own hollow comfort.

And it hurts, to say the least.

With my hands wrapped around Robert's stiff torso and my face resting lifelessly on his back, I sit on the backseat of his bike as it goes cutting down the same silent roads.

He doesn't make any remarks and nor do I roll my eyes, even once the entire drive. He hasn't said anything since we left Kempshire. A part of me, for a second there, expected him to say just the right thing, like always. But the hope died.

When we reach my place I get off quietly and without looking up, I take my helmet off and extend it towards him.

He somehow understands my state and his hand reaches out to get it. Almost like an electric shock, his skin touches mine as he grabs on my hand, making me look up at him.

His blue eyes are distant and indecisive. Not their usual shining self at all. I try to find warmth in them but I fail and it pains me to realise that it's also because of me and my stupid phase of never-ending denial, that the sparkle of his eyes is lost.

I gulp at the heavy realisation and start finding it difficult to look at him any longer.

"Easter-" He mutters telling me to not steal my eyes away. "I know it's not okay. I can't say it is. But it will be." He says squeezing my hand. "I promise you, it will be. Just give it time"

His words act as a tiny spark for my cold soul and I find myself nodding in agreement. He lets go of my hand and I don't wait. Turning around on my heels I make way to the front porch of my house.

I don't hear him starting the bike until I'm safely locked behind the front door.

I guess he's right. That's exactly what I'm supposed to do.

Give it time.

I don't even have anything else to do for now.

Of course, time won't heal any of my wounds. It never does. It's a hollow concept. But time will fade it. It will fade the pain. It will make me forget it. And that is still better than this suffering although it's next to impossible for me to believe it. I can't bring myself to agree that this grief can ever die. But a girl can try.

What else can I do?

Time is my only option.

And so, I start keeping track of time. Watching it pass part by part. Seconds, minutes, hours and days. Going to school with Robert, coming home with him, having lunch at school with Bella, having breakfast and dinner with Eric every day and night, smiling.