As It Was (COMPLETED) (wattys2023)

Closest To Heaven

Two Weeks After Shooting

A ray of light snuck through the dark clouds overcasting the sky and illuminated the blown-up Senior photo of Miles sitting adjacent to the mahogany casket. I wished with every ounce of my being that the goofy, crooked smile he wore in the photograph was the boy I saw every time I closed my eyes. I had spent over a week in the hospital grasping onto the little hope I had left.

The hope that it wasn't too late for me to join my boyfriend.

It didn't matter how hard I cried or how long I remained silent, my parents pretended as though nothing had happened. They went about their daily routines as if our home wasn't being egged and splattered with crimson paint, rocks and bricks thrown through windows every couple hour. Mom continued the drive to work though reporters and rioters crowded around her car and threatening her life. By the time I'd been discharged from the hospital, my mom had already moved all necessities to a hotel and put the house on the market.

It hadn't been much of a fight to come to the funeral this afternoon. Mom was on the phone with her lawyer and Dad had been staring blankly at the news as he had been for the few days I'd been home and the entire time he'd visited in the hospital. There had been a small part of me that had expected that they'd at least come with to pay respects, but I suppose I understood why they couldn't. It was easier for me to hide myself as I hadn't been thrusted into the forefront of all media outlets as my parents and brothers had. I had been shown on occasion as one of the victims and mentioned on one article online as the younger sister of the Rodgers Twins.

It wasn't until most of the people fled after the end of the service and Miles was six feet under that I caught sight of Naomi Chao. She was standing back against a tree, wearing a oversized black sweater and black leggings. Her hair was tucked securely under a beanie and though I could barely see her from where I stood, it was an easy assumption that she was as much of a mess as Hilary and myself. She lifted her head slowly, but it was as if the moment she saw me, she snapped like a rubber band back into reality and she quickly spun on her heel and disappeared back out to the parking lot.

I started to limp forward but a quick movement in my peripheral stopped my own motion. I stood frozen in place when I saw who that it was the sophomore basketball player that had saved me in the hallway. His right arm was in a sling, his left lifted in a half wave seeing that I was looking at him. I knew I should force my way over and thank him, but he seemed to read my mind as he nodded with a small, sad smile before walking away and disappearing into the mass of people that Naomi had moments prior.

With everyone gone outside of Hilary and Father Monroe, I finally maneuvered my way around a few other headstones and lowered myself to the groan with a hiss of pain.

My mother had been asking how I was healing, but I had no desire to utter a word to her, or anyone for that matter. The pain I was feeling was only a fraction of what those that had lost loved ones were.

It was only right I suffered in silence.

There wasn't much in front of the grave yet. A small photo of Miles from his championship game last year, his baseball mitt and an old, dirty ball. I gently set the rose between my index finger and thumb down in front of the photograph, blinking as tears continued to fall silently. I dug my nails into the dirt beside the ball, trying my best to steady my trembling hand.

Roses had always been our love language. The afternoon he'd asked me out in the cafeteria freshman year, he'd had a fake rose with one of those cute little teddy bears attached and all but got down on one knee to ask me out for dinner. From that moment forward, he made sure to shower me in the beautiful flower on every special occasion, and even randomly through the two and a half years we were together.