delicate

13

The three days that followed were quiet. Except for crying and arguing between some people. The only sound I made was crying.

My phone was buzzing every two minutes. Twenty percent of the messages and calls were from Kai. I wanted to smash my phone. I repressed the urge. The only thing I've felt is sadness. I ran out of tears a few hours ago.

I ran out of thoughts yesterday. The concept of time is beginning to feel unreal.

Caroline cried for the first day. It feels like she's moved on already. She's been calling and emailing to make funeral arrangements. It's set for two weeks from now. January 5th. I didn't bother asking why she chose to make it two weeks away. She has her reasons, and I'm too drained to hear them.

I think the planning was a distraction, though. If she hadn't distracted herself, she would be just as lost as I am.

She's only allowed a few people past the front door. She made them leave their condolences on the porch and not carry them in and tell her sorry every five minutes. I've refused to speak to them if they talk. I don't want to talk. I don't want to see anybody either, which is why I've stayed in my room most of the time.

"Are you sure you don't want to get out for a while? You haven't left the house."

I ignore her and stare at the wall as I hug my pillow.

She's been nagging me about getting out for the past three hours.

I listen as the door closes behind her. I close my eyes again and force myself to go back to sleep to avoid thinking about this.

...

My pity party was over the minute she decided to go to the bar four days ago. It was her next distraction, and it was impossible for me to keep her away from it. I didn't try, and I feel a sense of guilt, but it's not my responsibility to watch her every minute.

She's lying face down on the couch. Her dress is practically a shirt at this point. She looks like a mess.

It's nine in the morning, and she's plastered. I remember hearing her come in six hours ago. I don't know how to handle her.

I looked around at the empty bottles of alcohol that I've been meaning to pick up but haven't felt motivated enough to. It looks unlivable. I uncrossed my arm before tackling the task. There were several beer bottles on the table and a few wine bottles in the kitchen. The two empty vodka bottles on the floor by the couch are my next target. Before I can get to it, there's a knock on the door.

I walked to the front door, holding the bag tightly. I pulled it open. Stefan's eyes darted to the bag, then back to me.

"Hey."

"Hi." I furrowed my brows. "What are you doing here?"

He took a breath, "I wanted to check on you and Caroline. She hasn't answered my calls or anything." He glanced at the bag again. "What is that?" He looked back at my face.

I stepped back and let him walk inside. "She hasn't answered you because she's spent the last four days drunk. This is just her mess that she left." I walked over to the last few bottles and put them in the bag. I left it by the couch in case she needed something to puke into. I turned to him, taking a few steps closer.

"What about you?"

I shrugged, "What about me?"

He stepped closer. "How do you feel?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. I feel a lot of things."

He waited for me to expand on it. I heard Caroline groan. I turned to her. She was rolling to her back. She moved her hands to her face. "It's too bright in here."