June's P.O.V
Broken.
That’s all I feel now.
People keep trying to comfort me. Kayla. My parents. Strangers. All saying that it’s ‘Okay! She’s in a better place.’ How would they know? They’re not the one who’s are dead.
I can’t get the image of her broken body out of my head. Her broken, lifeless body lying on the tarmac, being lifted into the ambulance. Lying in the coffin.
I cast my mind back to the funeral, me in a sleek black coat, covering her t-shirt. Brooke’s t-shirt. Her parents trying to convince me it wasn’t my fault, there was nothing anyone could have done. I remember standing by the grave as she was slowly lowered in, Kayla crying into my shoulder. I remember realising I had to get out. Leave Bristol. There were too many memories of her there. I had to go to London, the one place she wanted to live, the attractive lull of the city luring her in.
Kayla decided to come with me. We shoes a tiny flat with a huge rent and moved as soon as we could. Our parents, of course, were sad, but respected our decision. They knew how close we were.
People used to call us ‘’The Triplets’’, being all the same age and never going anywhere without the other two. We knew each other better better than we knew ourselves.
Past tense.
I feel a sharp stab of pain in my chest and roll over to try and avoid it all.
I hear a noise from the sparsely furnished kitchen. Kayla must be getting up. I look at the alarm clock on the floor beside my mattress. 1:30. My stomach rumbled, but I didn’t have any enery to get up. I looked around my bedroom. It didn’t feel like my bedroom. It was quite a big room, with a huge window complete with window seat. There were slide robes going the length of one wall; completely empty. My double mattress lay on the floor opposite the wardrobe. The floor was just plain wooden floorboards. There were different sized boxes everywhere, all my stuff that I didn’t have the energy to unpack.
They were all closed, sealed tight with duct tape. Only one was open, beside me mattress near my head. In it a stack of CD’s, all by my favourite bands. Books. The Perks Of Being A Wallflower. The Faults In Our Stars. Will Grayson, Will Grayson. Harry Potter, of course. Books that had gotten me through a lot of tough times.
Some underwear. A few clean tops. There was a photo of Brooke on the floor beside my clock.
I hear footsteps outside then a soft knock on the door.
When I don’t reply, I hear the door opening quietly, and Kayla tiptoes in. I hear her sigh. I haven’t left the room in days. The sunlight is glaring in at me through the curtainless window, hurting my eyes. A few birds cheep outside. Take away cartons and empty pizza boxes lie abandoned on the streets outside, and on the cold floorboards around me. We haven’t fixed the heating yet. A half empty can of flat Coca Cola stands precariously on the floor beside me alongside an empty bottle of wine.
‘’June?’’ Kayla says nervously, stepping over my dead phone.
‘’I brought you tea.’’ She says, sitting down cross legged on the mattress, a mug of steaming hot tea in her hands.
I sit up slowly, feeling like my blood is lead instead of liquid, my bones cracking like an old lady’s.
I take the mug from her silently. My fingers curl around the hot ceramic. Our fingers brush briefly in the handover, and Kay flinches at how cold my hands are.
The mug is white and curved inwards at the bottom, with colourful corrugated words sticking out of in in jumbled letters. ‘Time for Tea!’ It reads brightly. It’s my favourite mug. Brooke bought it for me.
Kayla doesn’t know that and I try not to show the sudden constricting in my chest.
I take a deep gulp of tea. The scalding hot liquid burns my throat and I hardly notice.
‘’How are you feeling?’’
Terrible.
‘’Fine. You?’’ I try to make the words sound upbeat, but they come out heavy as stone, dead as the girl that caused them.
‘’Not too bad!’’ Kayla replies with what I guess is bright smile, but it looks more like a grimace. She’s trying to sound animated too, she does a much better job than I do, but her voice cracks halfway through the sentence and tears spring to her eyes, ruining the illusion.
Silence. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Or a car.
‘’I was thinking... Maybe we could do something nice today? You haven’t been out of the apartment since we got here.’’
She sounds worried. I tense up, and my grip tightens around my mug. Kayla senses my anxiety.
‘’Or! Or maybe you could just go on your laptop for a bit. Tumblr. That’s not too scary, is it?’’
Tumblr. It doesn’t sound to appealing, in fact, the thought fills me with dread, but Kayla is looking at me with such hope and worry in her eyes that I can’t bring myself to say no.
Babysteps.
‘’Okay.’’
‘’Okay?’’
‘’Okay.’’ I confirm, nodding once.
‘’And maybe we can unpack some boxes!’’ Kayla chirps, pulling one towards her.
I stay silent, not trusting myself to speak.
She struggles with the tape for a few seconds, before digging a nail into it, dragging it across the top.
She prises open the cardboard with an ominous tearing noise. We both watch expectantly as the flaps fall open to reveal the boxes contents.
It’s full of Brooke’s stuff. Presents she gave me. Clothes and books she left in my room at some of the thousands of sleepovers we had. Pictures of her, laughing, smiling, full of life.
We both freeze, Brooke’s smell is almost overpowering. A fragment of her is in this box, untouched by the world, untouched by the cruel turn of events that ripped her smile from her face, that ripped her away from us.
There are some old diaries, that I couldn’t bear to leave alone in her room, collecting dust. Some random books, Ulysses, by James Joyce, her favourite book. I had tried to read it once, but left it halfway through, daunted by the old language, it was like trying to read Latin. She had loved it though, never going anywhere without her battered, red leather bound copy.
There were some CD’s too. I had always been scornful of her music taste. I love All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, Pierce The Veil... To name but a few. She had always prefered The Beach Boys, The Beatles and John Denver. I had always playfully slagged her for it. I was going to miss that. All I wanted to do now was listen to all her crappy music. I knew all the lyrics, she always sang them.
I dragged my eyes away to look at Kayla, my eyes wide, lips trembling.
Kayla’s face was wet. I realised she had been crying. She slowly turned her head to look at me. I felt my eyes prickle and a solitary tear slid down my cheek. We stare at eachother for a second, before Kay breaks the silence.
‘’I miss her.’’ She croaks.
‘’I know.’’ I whisper. ‘’I miss her too.’’
And suddenly we’re hugging, sobbing into each others shoulders, shaking with noisy tears, both of us caught up in our own thoughts of our best friend. It is only when Kayla leaves that I notice the tea is spilt on the floor, my favourite mug shattered.
Yeah I know, Ima terrible person. Whoops. Sorry Sarah! Ily <3
The song for this is Flower Pills by Coma Cinema. It makes me cry and I love it. The YouTube link wouldn't work, but look it up. It's fantastic.
Outro
