Last Goodbye

Silent

*this is based on a nightmare I had*

The news came to me late at night as I was staring numbly at the white screen of my mobile, praying for any news - any at all – of how she was doing, but when I got the call I wished I had never answered. Her face showed up on the screen, smiling and happy and healthy; the face of a young girl with big plans for the future and dreams of marrying the perfect guy. I had clicked on the 'answer' button with shaking fingers, remembering the last time we had spoken.

 ~

"It's just a bad day, nothing serious." She assured me, brown hair falling from her ponytail and bright blue eyes watery with the tears of a hard day at school. "I'll be fine, you don't have to speak to me like I'm three."

"I just worry." I murmured, feeling slightly hurt by her words, but we were best friends; nothing she said would make me want to run from her. "You look like you want to cry." I pointed out dumbly, unsure of what to say. I wasn't good at advice – heck, I wasn't good at many things.

"Yeah, like I didn't know that." Her voice was rising slightly in annoyance. I shut my mouth and continued to walk beside her, rubbing my tired eyes: the result of a sleepless night. "Your house isn't this way." She told me sharply.

"I know, but it's dark and –"

"Will you just stop?" She halted suddenly, pulling me with her. I stared into her stone cold eyes and braced myself for the tears, but instead she narrowed them and pointed one trembling finger at me. "You act like I can't take care of myself! You treat me like I'm a hormonal teenager that needs to take a chill pill, but I'm not! I'm genuinely upset and angry and I just want to be left alone! So, I'll repeat myself. Your house isn't this way." And she spun around, the tears finally spilling onto her cheeks, and I stood there in shock for a short minute before slowly walking away, heart thumping, guilt pulling on my ankles. I looked back for a short second to see her standing still in the middle of the path, head turned my way slightly, but when she saw me looking she immediately turned and walked away, and little did I know that that would be the last time I ever saw her.

~

Now, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling with tears brewing in my eyes my heart heavy in my chest. I felt like all of a sudden a bomb has dropped next to me and there was absolutely nothing I could do to escape; no matter what I did I would fail. Because that is what I was: a failure. And now I was lonely in this world. I mean, I'd seen people in films and on the news mourning the death of a loved one, but I'd never truly understood just how painful it could be. I had never truly understood the dagger-like feeling in your chest every second you thought of them, nor the ache deep, deep down that evolved into a monster with claws that tore up your insides, making you want to throw up. I had never truly understood how one could blame themselves for a death, but now I did, and now every part of me wished I could turn back time just to prevent the argument; prevent everything that happened on that day.

When my mum saw me sobbing early that morning, she rushed to my side and held me for what seemed like hours, stroking my hair away from my face and whispering 'I love you' into my ear, but nothing worked. Nothing she did would bring her back. Nothing she did would remove the guilt destroying me piece by piece. And when she finally let me go, I wiped my eyes and bit my lip to stop any emotions from flooding out. I told her I'd get ready for school – little did she know that school would never be school; it will always be the place that held most of our memories together, and when I sit down to eat my lunch I will look over at her empty seat and I will cry because that seat will be empty for as long as I sat on that table.

But when I arrived at school, all eyes were on me, and I felt my knees quiver in fear. It had always been my best friend to make sure I was occupied during school, but today I had no one; no arm to grip onto nor face to smile at or voice to listen to. Everything hurt and no one was there to comfort me. During the day I had my friends try to cheer me up, but I barely registered a word they were saying. All I could hear were echoes and the sound of my own heart pounding in my chest. On the way home I cried, and when I opened the door my mum wrapped her arms around me, asking me over and over why I hadn't told her what had happened. I cried and cried and cried but in the end what was the point? Crying wasn't going to bring her back. Nothing was going to bring her back. And suddenly it dawned on me that I'd never have someone to make funny faces to in class; I'd have no one to gossip about other people to; I'd have no one to look at me as if I was their everything. Once upon a time, I had taken her love for granted, but now I wished I had admitted everything to her: the love, the gratefulness and how much I would miss her if she went.

A week later was the funeral. It was full of sobbing family members and friends of the family, but I was the only one standing there with not a tear in my eyes and my head bent towards the ground, watching the wind ruffle each individual blade of grass until I flattened them as I approached the place where everyone was gathering around the big black coffin, tissues pressed to their miserable faces. I barely listened to the speeches given, and when I was asked to do one, I shook my head quickly. If I went up there and spoke to everyone about just how amazing my best friend was, I'd be lying. I'd never be able to talk about the fact that every time we fought, I'd only make up because I didn't want to be alone. I'd never be able to talk about the fact that every time she came crying to me about something that upset her, I'd brush it off as a bad day and try and give her the best advice I could, but really I wouldn't worry. And I'd never be able to talk about the fact that since she died, I've only just discovered how much I loved her, and how much I missed her, and how much I wanted her by my side, hugging me and telling me it wasn't my fault. But it was my fault; everything was my fault.

When I got home I curled into a ball and refused to see anybody. I closed my eyes and slept and slept and slept. And then I woke up. Reality hit me and I fell into the black abyss that I had been clinging onto the edge of forever, and I screamed until my lungs hurt and my throat went dry, and when I had finished I pulled on my shoes and I crept out of my door, our of my house, got on the bus and got out at the graveyard. There, I knelt down and brushed my fingers over the damp flower petals resting against her gravestone. I squinted at her name engraved into the rock, clenching my teeth together until they began to hurt, before planting myself on the damp grass and crossing my legs, letting the silence wash over us in waves. I had my head in my hands, nails making crescent shapes in my cheeks and teeth biting off the last of the nails my thumbs had. Silence.

"I'm so sorry." I croaked. It felt like the only word I had spoken in a long, long time; my throat only succeeded in making it sound pathetic and tiny, nothing like how I wanted to say it. I wanted it to sound like I was actually sorry, because I was. I was so unbelievably sorry it was agonising. Yet no amount of words could truly express it, and that's what hurt the most. "I'm sorry." I tried again, but it still didn't feel like enough. I rocked back and forth on the ground, thinking of a better way to say it, but nothing came to mind, and in the end I just remained sat in silence, not a single tear running down my cheek, because that's how it would be from now on. Silent. Lonely. Empty.