Follow The Rain

Six

The idea came upon me as I was helping my mom clear out some of Camryn's things from her room. Despite my concern, my mother decided that it was time to get rid of the items that she thought she wouldn't miss. Things like the clothes she never wore or books she never read; my mother wanted to give these to charity. The thought of other people using a dead person's items slightly, if not completely, freaked me out. But nonetheless, I agreed to help my mom since I was bored out of my mind.

I was busy pulling clothes out of her closet for my mom to sort through when the thought struck me that Camryn had kept a diary. I knew this because she always told me not to touch it if I ever went so much as a step closer to its hiding place by mistake. Finding that diary just might be the key to finding out more about Camryn's thoughts before she left.

"Kayla, did she ever wear a bright pink lacy shirt?" my mom questioned from across the room. I nodded quickly, distinctly remembering the shirt my sister wore in a Halloween costume two years before. She had dressed up as a bunny, although I knew it wasn't so much for the fun as it was for the amount of skin it had revealed.

"Wow, she has a lot more clothes than I expected," my mom commented behind me as I rummaged through more garments and items in her closet. It felt invasive, like at any moment she'd storm into the room and shout at me for looking through her stuff. Not that I ever used to do that...

"If you look harder, you might see things of mine thrown into the mix," I replied. I smiled at the memory of how Camryn and I fought over clothes. At the time I had wanted to strangle her when she took my favourite pair of jeans but now, it was a memory close to the heart.

I continued through the cupboard, finding items made of soft silk to cotton to something that felt and smelt like leather. On one end of the closet, behind the hanging items, I came across something odd on its wooden back. A rectangular shelf jutted out behind the hanging rail, but instead of an ordinary shelf, it seemed more like a box attached to the wall of the closet.

"Mom, come take a look at this." I felt around but found no opening in the box-like structure. I stepped aside for my mom to see and asked, "What is it?"

I heard fingers tracing wood and dust reached my nose. "It's almost like some sort of safe. It's locked."

It was locked which meant there had to be a key.

"Hang on," she was still inside the closet and I heard a scraping on metal then a soft click. "I opened it."

"How?" I tried to join her but she suddenly grew silent. "Mom?"

"Oh," she seemed distracted. "Hair pin. Old trick. Kayla, this is her diary."

My heart quickened with both excitement and fear at this fact. Was this actually happening? Could I be one step closer to the truth? "Well, what are you waiting for?" I said, already pushing my mom aside.

"Are you saying you want to read this?" my mom seemed horrified at the idea and if I wasn't mistaken, a little scared too.

"Don't you?"

"Kayla, this is invasion of privacy," my mom protested, closing the closet doors.

"As if we're not already invading Camryn's privacy by going through her stuff? What's so different about her diary?" My mom flinched when I said her name and I shook my head in disbelief. "Yes, I said her name. I can't believe you think you can get rid of her stuff when you can't even say her name yet. I don't think you're ready for this mom, but I am. You don't want to read her diary? Fine, I will. If you won't tell me the truth, I'll find out for myself." I opened the closet doors again.

"I kept that note a secret to protect you, Kayla!"

"Don't say my name!" I exclaimed loudly, pausing to retrieve the book from inside the compartment. It was heavier than I expected and bound in a leather cover. "You don't get to say my name until you can say Camryn's," I whispered but I made sure my mother heard me. Then I found my way out of Camryn's room and into my own, trying to ignore the headache that I knew was beginning.

Ever since I was young, I always had the last word when it came to arguing. I made sure of it. It was also particularly easy to do so with my mother; she wasn't strong. Not like my father.

I clutched the book in my hands, realising the flaw in my plan. After all that, I wouldn't even be able to read it myself. Frustration boiled inside me and I tightened my grip on the leather, sinking slowly deeper into the mattress of my bed. Just three weeks ago, I suffered a blow to my head causing me to become permanently blind. I hadn't been able to recall the reason for this event but now it all dawned on me.

I had hurt myself because of grief over Camryn. I'd suffered both emotional and physical pain because of Camryn. I'd become blind because of what she did and it angered me to the bone.

I threw her diary down onto the floor and kicked it across the room, listening for the thump as it hit the wall.

Camryn didn't have to do this, she didn't have to go and kill herself. It was a choice, but she still did it. She decided to mess everything up and I hated her for it. She got the easy way out and now we had to deal with the effects. I hated her for it.

I picked up the nearest object next to me, which happened to be my alarm clock, and threw it as hard as I could. I heard the crack of plastic and the shatter of glass but I didn't care. My fists clenched in anger and I grabbed another object. I slammed it onto the ground over and over and over, relishing the sound of tearing and splintering. Over and over I catapulted my anger and frustration into the throw. I tossed objects, anything I could get my hands on; breaking them, smashing them, destroying them. Over and over and over, as much as Camryn had broken me.

My fingers enclosed around the bottle I kept beside my bed and I let it sail through the air with as much force as I could muster. I swore loudly when I heard the scatter of pills and realised the lid had come off of the bottle. I dropped to the floor, frantically fumbling for the painkillers that now covered my floor. I clawed at the wooden floor, my nails catching on rifts in the planks. I desperately and tirelessly grabbed a hold of a handful only to drop them in my effort to stand up.

"Damn you, Camryn!" I screamed, not caring if someone on the moon could've heard me. I gripped my now messy hair tightly, slowly sliding down to the ground in despair and crying out hysterically. My voice was raw when the tears stopped and my limbs finally stopped shaking. But I remained sprawled on my bedroom floor with the remnants of my anger and pain around me, waiting to be cleaned up.

"Kayla?"

I lifted my weary head at the familiar voice sounding from the doorway. I took a breath in through my mouth and winced as I tasted blood from where I'd cut my lip on a piece of glass beneath me. My hair hung wildly over my face and eyes but there was no use moving it out of the way.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I flinched at Matthew's hand on my shoulder. I wrung my hands together, going for my usual response to the question but stopped myself. After a moment I slowly shook my head and I felt myself trembling again. I didn't need to hide.

"No," I whispered, barely audible. I ran a hand down my face and rested a finger on the still-bleeding cut.

Matthew said nothing, instead opened my clenched fist, spreading my fingers out. Then he lifted my hand to my chest and placed it over my heart. I felt the pounding through my shirt, loud in touch and hot like fire.

"You feel that?" He said softly and I nodded. Then he put a cool hand on my chin and raised my head to face him. "Your heart never stops beating for you. You're going to be okay."

I nodded again and swallowed hard. I sat still, waiting for calm before sitting up. "Matthew?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you read something to me?"