Flight Through Darkness

Guilt Trip

The phone rings.

"Hello?"

I'm in my room, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It's been a day since I got back from the hospital, but it feels like years since I had that dream about Aerith's death. Even saying it out loud sounds strange. But it doesn't make it any less real. I still can't quite believe it that such a major part of my life is gone, just like that.

Mum appears in my doorway holding the phone. I don't even bother to sit up on my bed and merely wait, staring at my mother, who's now talking in hushed tones to whoever's on the other side.

"Yes, yes, I'm so sorry..."

She listens and wipes her eyes once with her sleeve.

"I know. She was...a dear sweet girl."

She checks the watch on her wrist.

"I see. 1pm. We'll be there. My condolences for your loss."

She hangs up the phone.

I sit there and wait. Mum shrugs at me, eyes still red-rimmed like my own from hours of hard crying. Neither of us really says anything. She exhales softly and murmurs, "Change, get ready to go in fifteen minutes." She doesn't need to say where we're going.

The door shuts.

For the first few seconds, I don't move. Then I sigh. Tossing my blanket off, I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, wincing as my joints protest. I feel like some old lady who hasn't been out of bed for too long. The last part is true, in my case. My room is messier than usual, so it takes me a full ten minutes to find a set of non-crumpled clothes, and even longer to find a set that's black.

My hands land on the dark blue dress that I bought with Aerith and Tifa just last Saturday. It's funny, how such events can make you feel as if everything else that happened was so long ago. I stare at it blankly, seeing not the dress, but that day when we were laughing, goofing off with each other and picking out clothes for each other. I don't even realize I'm shaking until cool hands pry my tightened fingers off the dress.

"You know, you don't have to go if you...if you can't handle it."

No, I can't handle it. I can't handle it at all. Her friends, her relatives, everyone who ever loved her, they'll be there. And I did this. I pushed her into that bear. Even though everyone says I'm not to blame, I know I am. This wouldn't have happened if I'd just made them stay in the cabin that night, if I'd just looked over my shoulder to check who was behind me that moment in the forest.

My mother's soft voice continues, "but you should at least see her one last time. Do you want to always remember the last time you saw her as bloody and mutilated?"

I hear myself replying with a voice that isn't my own. "No, I...she'll be all sewed up..it..it just won't be...

It won't be Aerith any more."

I hear a faint sigh, then minute rustling as my mother stands up, placing one hand on my shoulder. "If you're sure..."

"I am. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "Don't be."

I don't look up as she walks out of my room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Don't look out the window as she heads past our house, to the church. Don't watch the flood of people, all clad in mourning black, all streaming the same direction. Aerith was always a local favorite in our town.

I don't want to look, because I feel that I'm unclean, unholy, a killer.

You did this to her. What makes you think you deserve to go to her funeral when you caused it?

No, shut up, she was your friend, she wouldn't want you to regret things! She would have wanted to see you there. It's what Aerith would have wanted, right?

Oh yes, nice going with the guilt trip, there. But facts are facts. You shoved her to her death. She died. Your fault. Simple.

"Stop it..."

Ah, this ringing in my ears...the screams...the endless voices...why won't they stop?

Why won't the blood wash off my fingers? Why won't I stop seeing the look in her eyes when she died? Why can't I stop blaming myself? Why do I always mess up? Why did it have to be Aerith? Why couldn't it be someone else who died?

Why wasn't it me who died, instead of her?

Author's Note:

Well. I finally updated. Its been a month, I know, don't kill me, please! Writer's block plus school plus social problems plus stuff at home does NOT make for a very inspiration-inducing environment. Trust me. Exams are very near for me, and the Writer's block has been paying me visits. I just don't feel that spark when I write this story much anymore. I'm not sure why myself. I'm sorry to all readers. I'll try my best. That's all I can really say.