Bad News

Chapter 7 - Unbeliavable

The day I've been dreading is finally here. Sandra's funeral. I always thought my mother and father will be gone first. It's not like I want them to, I just always imagined Sandra will be there for me when they were gone.

But as I stand up to give an eulogy, it hit me. Sandra is not here anymore. She will never know about the poem I've made for her. She also will not sitting in the front row at my graduation a few years from now. There are so many things she never got to experience.

She passed away at such a young age. The world doesn't even know her talent in writing yet. Sandra never got the chance to live her dream, to be an excellent author.

I choked back tears as I open a paper in my hand which contains my poem I've made two days ago in school. "Hey, everyone," I said quietly. "I was planning to read my poem, it's about my sister. But I just changed my mind." People are giving me smiles out of pity. "Sandra was a genius writer. I need to tell you that because she never got to tell you. I'm forever grateful for her presence in my life." A few tears escaped, falling down right to the wooden floor. "She always knew how to make my days better. I love her so much and I'm gutted to not be able see her again."

My father rushes to me right before I broke down in tears. Suddenly I hate everything. The way people stare at me as if I were a lost puppy. All fake tears from Sandra's schoolmates. The ugly casket. And I hate the fact that my sister is already gone.

"It's alright, darling. It's okay. We will be okay."

My father is wrong. It's not okay and it will never be. We have lost a family member, an important one. But all can do is sobbing loudly in his arms, crying out Sandra's name in agony when her casket is being buried.

(September 21st, 2014)

My head is pounding as I try to open my eyes. I groan at the sudden brightness. This is why I don't really like getting drunk. Having a hangover is not so good to start the day.

As my consciousness slowly make its way, I started to look around my surrounding. I'm currently laying down on a double-size bed in a spacious room. I don't remember my dorm being this big. Am I imagining things? Shit, what the hell did I drink last night?

I didn't even get to finish off my thoughts when Harry got out from what I assume as bathroom. He goes straight to the closet, unaware of my awake state.

Shit.

"Oh, hi Grace. I didn't know you were awake," he said after putting on a white T-shirt. "You okay?" My response was only a loud groan. He chuckled before went into the bathroom. "Here's some ibuprofen to help your head."

"Thanks," I muttered quietly.

There are so many questions playing on my mind but I still need to get the headache gone first. About thirty minutes later, I finally got the energy to get up from bed to the bathroom. Harry had told me about a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and kindly gave me a clean towel.

As usual, shower helps me to think about all the things I didn't even think before. How in the hell did I end up here? Did I have sex with Harry last night? Because to be honest I'm not the world's best when it comes to remember things. Add alcohol into the mix and boom, there is nothing to remember from my hopeless brain.

After spending a good thirty minutes in the bathroom, I finally got out. Although I'm not a big fan of wearing my outfit from the night before, it's the only piece of clothes I have. The smell of frying bacon greeted me when I stepped out the bedroom.

"Hi, I made breakfast. Do you want some?" Harry asked me.

"That would be nice, thank you."

People will think it will be easier to talk to your friend when you're sober after getting wasted the night before. When in fact, it is not. The tension is so obvious. I really want to ask him a question that's been bugging me ever since I woke up this morning in his room. But on the other hand, I don't want to make this even more awkward than it already is. I like Harry and I don't want to ruin our friendship because of the stupid version of me decided to shag him last night.