September 22
Dead. The one word seems to repeat itself over and over though its already escaped mom’s lips. He can’t be. My body feels like it’s frozen and my soul feels empty. Grant. The one person who loved me, understood me, is dead. How? Is his mom ok? When did this happen? Do the others know? Mom seems to realize what I’m thinking, and she answers me.
“Emma, he shot himself this morning.” For the twentieth time, she bursts into tears. “Michelle went home for her lunch break and saw him there. Lying on the floor. Dead.” But I wasn’t listening anymore; my body shut down. Suicide? I know Grant, and he’s not like that. And I even if he was, he’d never do something that gruesome. He’s not like that.
Suddenly, my eyes open, and I see mom is gone. Her sobs can be heard through the house. Almost robotically, my body begins to shift and move. The warm and safe feelings that normally surround me when I enter my room have disappeared.
On my nightstand, my phone repeatedly vibrates. I stare at the screen for a while, just zoning out. Twelve new text messages. Probably all about the same thing. Grant. I finally force myself to open it and begin responding. The majority of the messages are from Rachel, Natalie, Emmet, and Sunshine. Most of them say the same thing.
Did you hear? Numbly, my thumbs press every letter.
Yeah. Short and sweet, that’s how I like it
Can you believe it?
No. I’ll never be able to.
I’m so sorry, Em. I know how much you cared about him.
Yeah. Even though my replies are short, I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just…I’m in shock I guess. So, I tell everyone I gotta go, and I just lay there. On my bed. Staring at the ceiling. My phone vibrates with five new texts from random numbers I have. Word travels fast around here. Another vibrate. I can’t take it. I’m about to shut it off when one new message pops onto my screen. It’s from Rosalie.
What happened to Grant? No one will tell me…
It takes me a while to respond. Not because I’m avoiding her, I’m avoiding telling her. But I suck it up and get some courage cause that’s what Grant would tell me to. Actually, I don’t know he’d want me to do this. But what the hell, I’ll have to assume from now on.
He’s dead. But before she can respond, I turn off my phone.
Dead like I’m barley gripping it.
Dead like never coming back.
Dead like one less person with me.
He’s dead.
My best friend is dead.
I’ll never hear his voice.
I’ll never see his face.
He’s dead.
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken
RomanceEmma is a normal fifteen year old girl with normal fifteen year old problems. She likes boys, she loves to dance, she wans to go to the parties, you know? She wants to be the popular girl. It's kinda hard when you can't talk.
