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//chapter twenty-one • lonely grief (mature)
THERE WAS A gaping hole in Andrew's life. A hole made in the spaces of his life where his step-sister used to be. Those gaping holes were all he had left of her.
Somedays felt it helpless, like he'd wake up and just be breathing. Other days felt long and painful without her. The house was too lonely and hostile for him to be in alone. Some days he felt nothing and wouldn't even get out of bed. But it kept getting worse. Everyday something new would remind him of Sarah. It kept getting harder.
The worst day wasn't the first day without her, it was all the days after that. All the days that got worse and worse the longer he didn't have her around.
That was the rest of his summer.
Sarah and John B were dead. That was the official statement from the police. They were declared dead. Not gone, not missing, they were just dead. Turtled in a storm they couldn't have survived. The reality of it hit Andrew like a fucking bus.
When John B died, no one held a funeral for him. No one in the community acknowledged his death as a sad thing, just a relief that the sheriff killer was dead. Sarah got a funeral, and Andrew attended despite how hard he was trying to avoid everyone he literally lived with.
The Pogues had to do John B's funeral.
They shaved off a heart shape in the side of a tree that over looked the dock and JJ used a blow torch to head a screwdriver end and burned John B's name into the tree. Kiara gathered a small box of things that used to be John B's or things that reminded the group of them. The others added various things before JJ finished the tree grave.
They all stood back to look at it, staring at the words 'JOHN B ROUTLEDGE 2003-2020 P4L'. The grave was a solidification that he was gone. That John B Routledge was dead and they was not coming back to them. An everyday reminder.
"To John B." JJ stated, holding up his beer bottle and everyone else raised a drink.
"And to Sarah." Kiara added, glancing over at Andrew who's eyes were focused on the ground. They drank before Kiara set the box down in the hole dug below the tree. They buried it and tried to bury an memory of them with it.
It didn't work.
Ward Cameron had so much influence on Kildare. No one listened to a word that The Pogues said, not a word that Andrew━ an eye witness━ said. And Andrew really tried, only to find his efforts ignored. Shoupe didn't not believe him. Most because Andrew was diagnosed as concussed. Because his fucking step-brother slammed his head into a wall. They didn't listen to that either. By the end of the month, Andrew had lost all faith in his step-brother, his step-father and his own mom. Andrew had lost all faith in the police.
