Melanie

Nine

It had been twenty-four hours since Amy was killed. As my chest became heavier, this had a significant influence on me and the school. I couldn't stop sobbing and refused to talk to anyone because I remained alone in my room. That night, officers arrived on campus and took her body to the hospital. In the press, they revealed that the gunshot struck her heart, causing her death. I couldn't stop grieving in my dark room with no lights on while watching television. Everything on television was about her. She was just seventeen at the time of her death, but authorities and media were still trying to figure out who the suspect was because of a lack of evidence, camera footage, or eyewitnesses.

It shattered me into a million pieces. I wasn't getting out of bed when Mom asked for food, and I refused to eat or be with anyone. I was completely lost, and Dart Mount High decided to close for a week, but who was the suspect, and who was the alias? Who assassinated my ex-girlfriend? Unbelievable...

"Dax.." Mom pushed open the door.

"Please leave me alone, Mom," I pleaded. I wasn't acting like myself at all. They filled me with rage, despair, and other conflicting feelings. Amy's last words to me were the "L" word, which I reciprocated, but our love was gone after that. I gestured towards my mother, who had been asked to leave the room. I didn't want anyone to talk to me for a week. I was exhausted and heartbroken.

I grabbed the remote and continued to change the channels. Until another news surfaced, a male reporter said Amanda Marie Keens while her parents broke their silence over losing their only daughter and the only kid they had after her mother went through menopause. Mrs. Keens was cringing in an interview as I was listening to her. She had no idea how it happened to her daughter, but she said she went on a homecoming date with her boyfriend. She was referring to me. I was at a loss for words. I could see the agony in her eyes. Her eyes were red and saddened.

Mr. Keens, on the other hand, appeared to be filled with wrath, as if he was desperate to know who had shot his only daughter to death. She had a bright future and had always wanted to go to Stanford, and her father stated they had recently got confirmation from Stanford that she had been accepted into that enrollment. Amy's aspirations were collapsing, but she still had a life ahead of her.

Mom scowled and closed the door quietly. She was attempting to be helpful, but I declined because I had just lost my girlfriend. I'm now lying in bed by myself. Amy passed away as a virgin. I felt terrible for her parents. I couldn't even confront them when I needed to. This was not my fault.

Amy's family and the school paid Amy Marie Keen's funeral tribute three days later. They encouraged every student to attend the funeral service. Mom poked me on the shoulder and jolted me awake. I saw the sadness in her eyes as I gazed at her. While I gazed at her, she placed her hands on my side hips.

"Son, today is Amanda's funeral, and we must all go, so please get yourself ready," mom said softly and seriously.

"Mom, I wanted to apologize for my recent acts since it has devastated me since losing her. It doesn't feel the same," I said quietly. These were perhaps the first words I'd uttered in three days without speaking to anyone. I received several phone calls, but I declined them all. People couldn't seem to leave me alone. I needed time to recover from my mental health issues and to care for myself. I was extremely confused after finding Amy dead with blood all over her clothes and the bathroom floor. I kept thinking about it.

"Don't worry, son. I felt the same way you did when we lost your father," she muttered. "I was very disoriented and refused to speak to anyone but you. When I needed a light, you were there." I cherished hearing Mom talk about Dad. I really missed him, but he didn't deserve what he got after what he did with his life. When I attempted to hug her, she sneered, but hugged me back. We hugged for a long time, then we started crying at each other. Mom massaged the curls in my hair. She fixed her gaze on me.