Sinner's Place {h.s}

sixty-nine.

Standing in the corridor, the sounds of people's light chatter filled the room ahead of me. Soft condolences and made up small talk. Things that people didn't know what to say, or what to talk about. When I passed a couple, they spoke lightly about the garden that's coming along nicely, but it died in their voice when they met my gaze.

What do people really ever talk about at funerals? Half of these people didn't know my mother like I did, not that I would let any of them near her to begin with, they were all misfits when she was around, and I think at heart; they still were.

It wasn't like I had any good memories to talk about with people anyway, they were all clouded in a haze of my pilled out sessions that lasted longer than it needed too; or longer than I wanted. I could remember the bits and pieces, but the memories fade after a while and become nothing but dust in the wind.

I'd been standing in the corridor alone for the last half hour, thinking to myself. Palms were sweaty, shaking even; dare to even say that my escapade with the hidden secrets in my glove compartment were now open to my friend group. Flushed down the toilet, knowing that there was nothing to fall back onto, just for reassurance, made it much worse for me than anyone could imagine.

I felt like I was withdrawing, yet nothing had even entered my system.

"Harry?"

There was a thin layer of sweat above my brow as it perked up, turning my head to Anna who was dressed in a black dress with a light cardigan over it. She picked at her nails nervously.

"Are you going to join us?" Her voice was light, careful not to shatter me.

"Yeah, uh..." I trailed off, wiping the sweat above my brow bone with my thumb, shakily, "I just needed a second."

Anna nodded, pressing her lips tightly together as she approached me. She put her head on my shoulder and a hand on my arm.

"I need a second too." Anna breathed through the thick air.

We hadn't spoken about that since last night. I tossed and turned all night, while Anna laid sound asleep. The guilt ate at me as if I had taken them. When I first stole the bottle, I didn't think that it was a big deal. As long as I didn't touch it, right?

But the night that Anna made me pour my tequila down the drain made me feel indifferent. It was not that I didn't feel guilty, it was that I did. My realization was that when I hurt, others do. Being in a relationship showed me that, but I was still trying to steer my way through this; this was the first real relationship that I've really ever had.

I had to come to the terms that if I didn't act accordingly, others would suffer at the hands of my actions.

"It's heavy, isn't it?" I brushed my hand over hers as if she was the one who lost someone, not me, "The feeling?"

Anna pinched her face, softening, then sighed.

"How many more funerals will we have to attend?" She said softly.