her words.

I watch solemnly as the cream casket is lowered into the ground.

one foot under.

two feet under.

three feet under...

I watch as my best friend is slowly lowered six feet under.

I look and see her mother, sister and step-father standing next to her grave.

Eddy, her step father, is emotionless as always; her mother and sister are crying hysterically.

Congrats, Aimee. Look what you've done, I think sarcastically to her in my head. I thought you hated seeing your mother cry.

The casket is finally lowered into the ground and the crowd slowly thins out as they pay their last respects.

Individuals console Aimee's family as they filter out. Stopping to give a hug or saying one last "I'm sorry for your loss", even though they are probably empty sorry's.

I slowly make my way over too. Mrs. Christiano's eyes seem to brighten as she sees me.

"Celeste.", She manages to choke out through her tears. "S-she was our daughter but I know this is hitting you just as hard."

She sighs a long, wistful sigh and she rummages through her purse. She pulls out something that I know all too well.

Aimee's journal.

"Here.", says her mother as she hands me the notebook. "She wanted you to have this."

Without saying another word she wipes away the mascara and tears that are running down her face, gathers up what's left of her broken family, and turns to leave.

I run my hand over the lock and watch as a piece of paper slips out from the diary and falls to the ground. I slowly bend down to pick it up and read the words that were scrawled in Aimee's familiar handwriting:

"Remember that key I gave you a year ago? Use it."

~