𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 ~ | 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤

~ Epilogue ~

Warning : Ouch

 1 Year Later 

Nothing prepares you for the goodbye you never thought you'd have to say.

The loss you never thought you'd have to face. The sadness you thought you'd never have to feel.

Death changes everything. Time changes nothing. Because the truth is it doesn't matter if it's an hour or a month without her, the pain is still the same. I still miss her just as much as the day she left.

After a month, the shock had past. And all we were left with was the cold emptiness of her absence. I had finally accepted she was gone.

It was the fact she was never coming back that hurt.

Max was holding it together in a way that I couldn't. He had been distant and quiet, but he was standing. This only made me even more worried, because I knew he would crack one day. And today he did. Exactly one month, to the day.

I went over as much as I could to try to help him with Clem and just be there. I didn't want to leave him alone. He hardly spoke. Sometimes he hardly moved at all. But I stayed with him because I knew he was alone. When I broke down, I had someone to hold me, someone to tell me it would be okay.

But Max had no one.

So for the fourth time in three days, both me and Charles were going over to Max's house. We were bringing dinner again. Max had barely eaten anything since the funeral, and I was worried about him.

"You okay?" Charles asked me softly as I looked for the keys.

"I have to be." I replied.

Giving up my search, I tried the door, only to find it unlocked. I glanced at Charles, who looked just as concerned as I felt, before pushing it open. The moment we stepped inside, the scent of alcohol hit us, thick and cloying.

The house always looked a little more grey to me now. Like the color had faded ever so slightly. Like the joy had been sucked right out of it.

When we entered the living room, the sight of Max was more than I could bear.

"Heyyy, look who's here!" Max slurred, his eyes glossed over. He was sitting on the couch, an almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. His hair was messy, his shirt wrinkled, and he looked... numb.

My heart sank.

"Max..." I breathed, my eyes filling with tears as I took in the scene before us.

He looked up, his gaze unfocused, and attempted a sloppy smile. "That's me. Max."

"Where's Clem?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Max gestured vaguely towards the hallway. "Asleep. Didn't want her to see me like this."

I couldn't blame him. Clem was too young to understand, but she wasn't too young to feel it. And she certainly wasn't too young to pick up on the sadness that clung to her father like a shroud.

Charles's hand brushed against my back as he moved past me. "I'll go check on her," he murmured, giving me a sad smile before disappearing down the hallway.

I tried to gather myself, pushing down the lump in my throat. "Max," I began gently, "You don't have to pretend for us."

He took a long swig from the bottle, his hand shaking. "Pretend?" He laughed, a hollow sound. "Why would I pretend? I'm just having a good time, aren't I?"