I couldn't sleep. How could I? The one I loved most was gone. And for what? To steal shit? Just for fun? There was no telling. But there was nothing to soothe the hurt.
I laid still in bed between Will and Sarah the whole night, my mind replaying what happened over and over again, until six in the morning rolled around.
Will had just switched from nights back to days and I needed to keep myself busy. As long as I focused on some kind of work I wouldn't have time to process the loss or the pain, at least until after everything was said and done.
I ended up making a full breakfast for the two of them and took care of my dog with enough time to clean up the mess before either of them woke, but I still needed to keep my hands busy.
When Sarah and Will awoke to me scrubbing the kitchen top to bottom, not a word was spoken.
They both knew my history. Will and I had both gone through so much tragedy and trauma, some of it together, so I knew he understood better than most. There was still so much to handle after last night and all I needed to do was keep it together until all the affairs were settled. He knew that.
Maybe I had become jaded from the years of E.M.S. too. There's only so many times that you can walk in on a decayed body or scraped up some poor sap off of the road before it all becomes your norm. Death and grief were never foreign concepts to me.
There were still no words spoken until the evening. By that point I had deep cleaned almost the entirety of the downstairs, but it was only Sarah forcing me to sit and eat.
I had seen stab wounds and the aftermath of a man versus a semi truck and even dealt with the smell of necrosis and G.I. bleeds and always was ready for the next meal. But this? There was no appetite to be found. I may not have allowed myself to cry, but I couldn't bring myself to eat.
It continued like this for almost a week before I was able to suppress my grief enough to act human again. During this time Will and Sarah just kept me company the best they could while still going about their lives and taking care of their child and their jobs.
I was able to at least survive the entire time and keep my head down and take care of what needed to be done.
When the weekend had rolled back around I was finally able to find my voice again. Like all previous nights I didn't sleep much and found myself preparing another breakfast before Will went to work.
He got up early on that morning and finally decided to sit me down at the table for coffee and to talk.
"I know you've had...well probably the worst week of your life. I know you're trying to keep going until you can't and that's fine, I won't stop you, but I do normally host a kick back on the last day of my work week."
The was a pause and he shifted from his
"I don't know if you'd prefer to have some kind of normalcy or not, but I can absolutely cancel it tonight. The guys know something's up and to be frank they can suck it up and drink their own alcohol at home for once. I don't care either way, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable."
I shrugged. "Host it. Worst case is I have to step away and go to bed. Hell, maybe some socialization might do me some good." There was no point in taking his social life away all because of my issues, especially when he and Sarah had dedicated every scrap of their barely-there free time to doting on me since it happened.
He took a sip of his coffee and chewed the inside of his lip, apparently anxious about whatever had to be discussed next. "So," he started gingerly,"how are you really holding up?" There it is.
