Lost in Hollywood

Moonlight

Sky wasn't sure how many days had passed since Cody's death.

The flow of time meant nothing to her. Buried under the covers, the drapes of her bed shut, the curtains closed, it hardly mattered if it was day or night. She was like an insect trapped in a spider's web, unable to break free. She was stuck in her grief, stuck in time, stuck in the darkness, stuck in the gut-wrenching moment when she stepped into Cody's room and saw him dead on the bed, his blood coating the sheets, the floor, the wall.

Reliving that moment over and over again was taking its toll on her. Days passed, but she couldn't move on.

She couldn't eat. She couldn't drink. She couldn't sleep.

And she couldn't let anyone near. Wrapping herself in her misery, she shut out the whole fucking world, knowing she deserved this suffering, this loneliness. Cody was dead, his head was in pieces, his blood was on her hands, he was dead and it was her fault.

She didn't even know what had happened to him after— after she'd been dragged out of that room. 

No one would tell her anything. People came and went, but no one said anything about what had happened to Cody's body, if there was going to be a funeral— and Sky had no words to ask.

A funeral—

That thought was a dagger through her heart. She knew she wouldn't have been welcome, even if there was one. And it would have been impossible to face Cody's family, his friends, his siblings— but still, the fact that she didn't even know if Cody was buried, or cremated, or if his stiff, lifeless body was stored in the morgue, where he was alone and cold and scared, alone in the dark, with no one to hold him and tell him it was okay, that he was loved, that he was safe— It haunted Sky day and night.

The pain was more than she could take. Cody— not him anymore, but just a broken, empty shell— his skin turning blue, his cheeks growing hollow, his scent disappearing under the smell of decay— Sky felt like her insides were carved out. Her ribs were cracking under the horrible weight of her guilt. She wouldn't survive this loss, she didn't even want to survive it.

If everyone else was dying, why couldn't she?

Cody had just wanted to be loved, and she had failed him. He had died scared and alone and he was gone forever, and Sky knew she deserved all the awful things that came to her.

She deserved her guilt-filled misery, and she deserved the messages on her phone, the anonymous messages calling her a whore, a bitch, a murderer. Telling her that she was a monster, that she should kill herself for what she had done, that Cody should have shot her instead of himself, should have put a bullet in her stupid head.

Sky didn't disagree. They were right. All of them. It should have been her, bleeding to death instead of Kat two years ago— and it should have been her head in pieces on the floor and the wall, instead of Cody's.

God, how she craved death. It was the only thing she wanted. The dark door was wide open once again, letting through the voices that called her name day and night, voices whispering into her ears that she should just do it— and then there would be peace, there would be silence.

But Dad wouldn't leave her out of his sight, he even slept in her room to make sure she was safe, as if she deserved his love, his care. He kept her alive - against her will - and Sky had no strength to fight him.

During the endless nights when she couldn't sleep, Sky kept reading the messages people had sent her, and not all of them were hateful. There were other kinds of messages too - words of kindness, of compassion - from Moon, Demetri, Miguel— and Sam.