Two Weeks and Two Days

Grievance.

​🇦​​🇱​​🇦​​🇳​​🇦​.

It's been two weeks and two days since my best friend Lucy died. I've been zoning out for hours at a time and jolting harshly back to reality. I remember the phone calls so vividly, although the night itself seemed hazy and unclear. The sound of my ringtone I gave her – a guitar cover she did of Seven Nation Army which I never thought would make me cry. She'd stayed late at her band practice and was going to walk home in the dark but I felt concerned, understandably of course. After all, a teenage girl walking home in the dark alone was something we were all warned about not doing since we were children, yet Lucy was a 'risk-taker' and didn't seem to care, despite my worries. It was only a horror story and 'most walks home were fine, right?' I had told her to be safe, to message me when she got home... but nothing ever came. 

It was May 30th but I only found out at the beginning of June. My family has always been extremely healthy and we usually stay out of trouble, so when the police showed up at my doorstep I couldn't even imagine what had happened. I thought it would be something small. Maybe the neighbour's house had been broken into; although our part of town was known for being safer compared to the area Lucy lived in. I suppose there was a small, tiny part of my mind that knew something had happened to her. They were coming to interview me for her death. I knew they were going to come to me at some point, of course. I am — was? — her best friend and everyone knew it. It was something out of my nightmares.

My parents weren't that bothered. I usually adored them despite their strictness but their reaction to Lucy's death has torn us apart. They saw it as more of an opportunity for me and took almost no pity. They never liked her because she was always a bit troublesome but that's what always made me amazed to be her friend. She was a rebel, a risk-taker. I could never be like that, but that's what drew me to her. She gave me confidence, the things my parents had taken away.

Lucy had two other close friends, Jesse and Tyler. I didn't talk to Jesse, who was one of her close friends because he seemed distant to me, but you could tell he was struggling with the news and the attention wasn't helping at all. I hadn't seen Tyler, Lucy's bandmate, around at all. He was the last witness to see her alive before she called me, so he's probably having an even harder time than either of us. Not only did the police interview him constantly, but the public eye was also glued to him. From what Lucy had told me, Tyler wasn't the most confident of people, so I couldn't imagine how nervous he was.

It's surprising how much stuff reminds me of her. Simple things. Of course, the clothes and gifts she gave to me are the most sentimental, but things like stickers. She constantly collected them and placed them on everything, especially her laptop and guitar. The patches she layered on her comfort jacket, of bands she liked or funny cats. Or even the pull tabs from cans that she would break off and collect. It all made me think of her.

Speaking of things she loved, as I lay in bed daydreaming about the past week, one of my cats came and hopped onto the bed, meowing softly in hopes of food. I have two lovely cats and they've been there for me for so long that when I heard the news, they stayed in my room and cuddled on my bed with me for days, sensing I was mourning. Pudge, my chubby ginger cat, circled my bed, attempting to get my attention as I began to open my eyes. They also loved Lucy, adoring her with all of their tiny feline hearts. Purring whenever she came into the house, especially Fudge, my ragdoll calico, who would suffocate her in her sleep by lying lovingly on her face. Recently, they've begun to lay on her old shirts all the time as if they knew she was gone. It is said that cats could see dead people, but the thought sent a shiver down my spine. 

"Morning Pudgey. Are you hungry?"

He was always hungry. I asked anyway, my voice slightly gravelled from my long sleep, and Fudge responded with a large yawn and soft meow as she jumped onto the bed and rubbed herself against me in a very cute attempt to get me up. I gently rubbed her stomach before I lazily sat up on the edge of my bed and looked around my room. Although things were beginning to get a little easier, I was still in the phase of feeling numb and wanting to stay in bed. The last thing I wanted to do was face my parents and go to college, I was already missing a lot of lessons and I needed to do something to distract myself. At least the cats were in good spirits – they're such lifesavers.