Take me to the skies

Chapter 11 - There are no do-overs

"He doesn't want me around" 

I stared into the distance, the hollowing night sky that was lit dimly by street lights. Chris was limp next to me, his body slumped onto the bench we were on. He turned his head slightly towards me, and shared a surge of emotion that ran through me.  It was sadness and acceptance - I gave him a look, knowing what he was trying to say. "I know I have to complete this task - I know I know, I can't upgrade or go into the afterlife, or get reborn, or anything at all. And the pain will just worsen - YES I KNOW. But it doesn't change the fact that I STILL do NOT know how to do this. Yea, maybe Miles being able to see me will change things and 'make it easier' or so you say, for me, but you KNOW what he did. Chris looked straight ahead, and the coldness of sorrow filled my stomach. 

"He still loves you, you know."

"Since when did love hurt?" I scoffed at Chris. "You will continue to find the reason of your seperation tomorrow. If not, I'll have no choice but to deport you." My eyes widened as I looked at him. "DEPORT ME? TO WHERE?" He glanced up at me, who was now standing still, frozen in place. 

"To Hell."

Day 23

Uhm, okay, but what the actual f-

I was strolling the grounds of our college and stopped in front of a mural. MY mural. My face was plastered at the front, my smile radiant, lighting up the tiny marble stone my name was engraved on. My smile was wide, my eyes squinted into upside-down crescents. It was my high school graduation photo. I gulped and stared at the mural. Little clusters of flowers were gathered around it, some big bunches of red roses, some little bunches of yellow flowers. Cards scattered the front of the mural, many placed delicately against the mural, while others looked like they were carelessly strewn onto the marble stone. I kneeled down and took my time investigating the flowers. Looking at the similar brown paper wrapped around the bouquets I picked one up and read the label. "The Flower Garden". My mind racked for this familiar smell, familiar flowers, I've definitely seen these before... looking back down at the flowers, I examined the pastel colours blurring my eyesight. I nearly scoffed to myself. Some of the flowers were from people I have barely spoken to- this fake sentiment, fake empathy - I wondered how they were doing now. I set the bouquet back into the bunch and took one last look at the flowers - until my eyes landed on one bouquet. Rimmed with white lace, the bouquet was wrapped differently, like it was handwrapped, not done professionally. It was a tiny bunch, but there were many flowers nonetheless. It was full of daisies. Perfect, little, pristine white little daisies. Tied together with baby pink satin ribbon, and a little card stuck to the back of the bouquet. It didn't take a genius to guess who it was from - I could tell that the flowers were handpicked. Handpicked from our little garden

I ran like my feet was carrying me - like my body was flying, like it was a caged bird - it was finally free. Happy and free

Happy

and

free.

(reference - chapter 6 ~ Daisies)

The memories clashed like waves during a high tide within my head. I shook the little thoughts away  - nothing mattered now. What was important right now is to try and find the reason Miles and I fell apart. I slowly stood up, carefully leaving the bouqeuts exactly where they were . Just when I was about to walk away, the familiar squelch of rainboots flooded the grim atmosphere. I froze in place, my feet stuck solid onto the ground. Could it be? No it couldn't be - I turned around slowly and came face to face with the person I missed the most but hadn't seen yet. Crystal. Her eyes were downcast and souless. Her blond hair wasn't combed, it was stuck to the side of her face. She didn't bother to open the umbrella she was holding to shield herself from the rain, causing her to be drenched from head to toe, her hoodie scrunched and stuck to her back. Her face was expressionless as she knelt down and wiped the raindrops from her face with her hoodie sleeve. I watched with a broken heart as she rearranged the flowers in front of my mural, her lips quivering slightly more vigrously when she took out a wet tissue and wiped my picture and my name that was engraved in the marble. She twisted her body around as if she was looking for something - and my eyes landed on the umbrella under her feet. She picked it up and opened it, carefully placing it behind my mural and the flowers, blocking my mural from the downpour. She kissed her finger and slowly placed in on top of my picture. I could see her eyes turning red and red spots started appearing on her face. I knew that reaction anywhere - she had an allergic reaction to overwhelming reaction to emotion, like how she was starting to tear up now. I suddenly understood - she never wanted the umbrella - she wanted the rain to wash away her own tears.