Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

Chapter Twenty Seven

Rose's POV

Rose woke up with a pounding headache.  Her mouth was dry and her foot was throbbing with pain.  She rubbed her eyes violently before opening them.  It took a minute for them to adjust, and when they were fully adjusted, she almost screamed.

She was in her bed and on the floor next to her was a sleeping Andrew.  When did he get here? Rose thought.  She tried to remember the events that happened yesterday and sadness washed over her.  Memories flooded back into her mind of her almost overdosing on pain killers.  She was so close, and would've done it had Andrew not been there.  Rose couldn't believe she was about to commit suicide.

Thinking about it now, Rose knew it wasn't the answer.  But she still couldn't shake that small voice in the back of her head saying it was the right answer.  

Rose placed her hands to her head as she closed her eyes tight.  She couldn't think of this now.  She needed to focus on the fact that today was her aunt's funeral.  Panic filled Rose as she looked at the clock.  She let out a breath of relief when she found it was only six thirty.

Rose pulled the covers off of her and examined her foot.  Andrew must have bandaged it up for her, because it was neatly wrapped.  She looked down at him and gave a small smile.  He looked super cute laying on the floor.  His blond hair was all over the place and his face was soft and relaxed.  He looked peaceful.

Rose quietly crept past him and grabbed clean clothes.  She tip toed to the bathroom and locked the door.  When she looked in the mirror she gasped.  Rose looked awful.  Her eyes were puffy and her hair was all matted down.  Her face was pale and her lips were dry.  She looked fragile and broken, and that brought more sadness to Rose. 

Her heart began to ache at the sight of herself.  She looked awful.  Rose forced herself to look away, not impressed by what she saw.  Instead, she focused on starting the shower.  When she got in, she let the hot water wash over her.  Rose closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfort of the water.

She just stood in the shower for a good twenty minutes before Rose began to wash her hair.  She went over it twice as she did with her body.  She let the water sooth her for another twenty minutes before she reluctantly turned off the water.

Rose dried herself off and put on her sweats and sweater.  She dried her hair before she left the bathroom.  It was seven thirty, close to eight, and Andrew was still sleeping.  Rose didn't have to be ready until nine thirty, so she decided to go downstairs.

Rose felt she had some of her strength back, and so she decided to make a cup of hot chocolate.  When she walked into the kitchen, she expected to find the mess she had created, but instead it was completely clean.  The pills were cleaned up as was the glass.  Tears filled Rose's eyes as she smiled small.  Andrew was a good man.

Rose shook her head and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.  She filled it with hot water and made her hot chocolate.

Rose eyed the medicine cabinet, really wanting some headache relief right now.  She refused to grab it because she couldn't quite trust herself yet.  Instead, she would have to suffer until Andrew was awake.

She took a seat on one of the stools and sipped her hot cocoa.  She looked out the window and saw snow falling.  It was going to be a cold day, and Rose needed to be extra prepared for the burial.  

More pain filled Rose as her expression became somber.  Her eyes pooled with tears as she stared off into the distance.  Today made it official.  Today was the day that signified Aunt Bea was really gone.  She was really dead.  As soon as the men buried her, it was official.  No more possibilities that she was still alive in the hospital.  No more possibilities that she was barely alive.  Today meant Aunt Bea was really gone.