Response || Malum || (Sequel to Reaction)

Epilogue Part 2- The Final Piece

Calum's POV

People say loss is unimaginable, and it is. This kind of loss is beyond unimaginable, it's debilitating. It's like a part of me has died, and it has. My body has been broken down and attacked by grief for the past seven days.

2:33 am

By some sick and twisted act of the universe, I've been awakened at this exact moment for seven days. My eyes flutter open to focus on the same white ceiling as I slide my hand across the sheets to pretend he's asleep beside me. I haven't changed the sheets in seven days and until the smell of him leaves the linen, I won't change them. I closed my eyes tightly again and take in slow deep breaths to try to extinguish the pain in my chest. The pain of this loss is physical, it hurts everywhere. Behind my closed eyes bits of images from the past week flood my brain.

I pretended not to see them whisper and watch me while I sat alone in silence. My hands gripped the porcelain cup that contained warm tea and I stared at it, trying to tune out the voices. Everyone is dressed in black with tear stained cheeks but I can't bring myself to cry. I've cried so much already I think I'm incapable of crying anymore. I watch our family and friends talk around me, about me but no one bears to disturb me. I'm a bomb that could detonate any moment. I sink further and further into the couch wishing there was a way for me to just disappear. The pain is too much for me to bear and if I stay in this room filled to the brim with sympathy and grief the tea cup will shatter in my hands.

I gasp for air and sit up straight in bed just trying to escape the memory of the funeral. Funerals are ineffective. They are supposed to be a time to grieve and rejoice in the life lost but somehow they get lost under the black clothing and tissues. Trust me there is nothing comforting about watching your whole world being lowered into the ground in a casket. It's paralyzing. All it does is remind you that your life as you know it is over and when you go home everything will have changed. After all the guest had left I was left to figure out how to fall asleep alone for the first time in at least 20 years. I'll spend the rest of my life in grief the funeral was no special time to release it.

For the next four hours I lie awake just staring at the ceiling secretly hoping to hear Michael's voice somehow. I've been telling myself for the past week that I would be fine if I just heard his voice one more time, but I know it isn't true. If I heard his voice I'd just want to hold him and if I held him I'd never be able to let him go. Existing without Michael will be the most painful thing I ever have to do.

Once the sun was finally up, I slung the sheets from my body and climbed from the bed. My joints ached and my chest was tight as I tried to gather myself. My head always spun a little when I first stood up, I think it's from all the crying. The room finally stopped spinning and I headed for the shower. I stood in naked silence as I waited for the water to heat up. I tried to focus on my reflection in the mirror but I just kept searching for his face in the glass. When my face started to disappear under the steam I finally found my way behind the shower curtain and into the water. I closed my eyes as I washed my body and swore I could feel Michael's hands brush over my skin like they had a million times before. I'll never get used to being alone. Before I could break down into tears, I pulled myself from the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist to go in search of something to wear. Sophie and Logan were supposed to be coming by today before they both went back home for good. Having the kids around has helped me from completely breaking down. It's impossible not to see him in each of their faces.

I pulled on some clean boxers and headed for the closet to find something to wear. His clothes were still hanging next to mine in our closet. Getting rid of them is not an option. I let my hands reach out to touch the fabric of his shirts and I breathed in deeply. Shirt by shirt I moved through his clothes until I found a familiar sweater. It was black and white stripes and Michael has had it since we first started the band. His mum bought it for him for his birthday I'm almost positive and he wore it all the time. Once I slid the soft material onto my skin my mind drifted back again.