Return To Me, River (Re-Writing/Editing)

Chapter Two

Twelve Days Later

The tears have stopped coming, but looking in the mirror I can see that my face is still blotchy and red. My dark, sea blue eyes would draw all attention away from that anyway if anyone were to look at me. And my fair skin adds a nice touch to my beauty .and has always stopped my face from becoming noticeably teary. I suppose I've just never cried this much. I don't care about that of course. I also don't care that there is a small pimple on my nose, unlike most fifteen year old girls. I don't care that most of my clothes are 'so last season'. I care that my sister is dead. I care that my mother is so oblivious to everything around her that she may as well be dead.I care that my dad won't even answer the answer the phone when I call.

And I care that I'm all alone.

I brush my teeth and splash cold water over my face as an attempt to wash away the tear stains. I may not actually care, but some habits are hard to forget. I leave the bathroom and walk across the hall back to my bedroom. I glance at the closed door that was River's room, and quickly look away. Although there is no threat of tears. What's the point in crying with no one to comfort you. Although my mother's is in the house she can't help me. It's as if all the life has been drained from her. Because whilst she breathes and moves she doesn't talk or emote. Not since she came downstairs to find me and River on the floor covered in blood.

I remember a paramedic picking me up as I regained consciousness, moving me away from my sister. "No," I had screamed at him, "I have to stay with her! Stay here with her! 'Cause if I leave she might go. And I can't let her go!" I kept screaming at him to put me down, then, when he'd taken me upstairs and outside I started to beg him to let me go back. He didn't. He did try to comfort me, but it didn't help. I guess there actually isn't many things you can say to a girl who just saw her sisters dead body. I'm a bit fuzzy from then on, but I remember finding her there so clearly. I doubt I'll ever forget it.

I travel down the hallway to my room. I go to my wardrobe and get out a singlet and some leggings. Recently I've found myself just sleeping in my clothes, but right now that would seem- wrong. Slipping my black dress off my small frame, I dress myself in the leggings and singlet I got out. I then pick the dress up off the floor and look very hard at it.

It's a nice dress, well it would be in my and my friend's view, although I hope to never have to wear it again. At least not for a long while. But hopefully if next time is far enough away, I'll have a new. Its completely black with no sleeves and comes down about an inch above my knee. My mother would have said that it was inappropriate to wear, but she didn't even come. My mother sat by and watched me struggle to get everything done. I had to plan a whole funeral on my own, my sister's funeral.

At first I expected my mother to do it. But soon, I realised that she wasn't doing anything at all. She just sits all day, with a glassy expression in her eyes. Eyes just like River's. I can't even look at her anymore, she should have to be the strong one, not me. My dad let my mother a couple of years ago, and when I tried calling him he didn't pick up, no one did. The number he gave to us was fake. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more. So, having no grandparents or other relatives I could contact I planned the thing on my own. I had to try and balance out the money, and try to contact everyone that should be invited. I got a coffin and everything, found a suitable church. And I also had to go school. I got the first week off after I found the body, but then I was expected to come back. Try and talk to my friends who I'm starting to hate because they're acting like nothings different!

At lunch they try to gossip to me about who's doing what, and what they did on the weekend! When I first came back they even acted shocked when I'd muttered to them that I hadn't seen the newest episode of 'Pretty Little Liars' and had no idea what they were talking about, when they asked for my opinion. Olivia had then even questioned me about why I didn't see it. When she did that I just got up from our table and left the school grounds. As I had left I heard them muttering about what a drama queen I was, and that I had to grow up.

That was when I first realised that my friends simply didn't care about whatever 'emotional problems' I was having, they just expected me to get on with my life. I guess I never though of most of as my friends anyway, even thiugh that's what I call them. We are the group of girls that think they're better then everyone else because they're prettier. I've always felt bad about it, but its not like I did enough to find new friends. I only ever started ganging out with in sixth grade because Olivia was. And now, four years later I'm still stuck with them. And every year they would get meaner and meaner, but I did nothing.

I guess I liked the power.

But it really hurt today when none of them came to the funeral, even Olivia, who I've known since Kindergarten didn't show. But several other people from my class did come, I didn't know any of them too well. Yet they all came. And Elizabeth Louis, who we picked on so much she often started to cry, gave me a card and then she said "I want you to take this to help you and your mother by." There was so much compassion and sorrow in her emerald coloured eyes, eyes I expected to fill with tears or flame with hatred, which was what usually happened whenever she so me, I was suprised when she handed me a $50 note. I could tell I'd started crying and she even gabe me a hug. Why aren't my actual group of friends like that. As each of my classmates that came said they were sorry for River, I thought of all the means things that had been said to them or I had said to them, that we then laughed at while they looked so hurt or upset. The thought if it makes me shudder. Those kids must be really nice to still be able to say sorry to me.

The service was very short, but the burial was awful. I had to watch as they put my sister in the ground. All I could think was that she was claustrophobic, and would be, no doubt, trying to claw her way out of the coffin, panting and coughing while her air supply ran out, even though I knew she'd stopped breathing. Stopped breathing, moving, talking, giggling and... Living.

Tears start to slide down my cheeks once again. I collapse onto my bed and let them come. The tears racking my body with sobs. I lie on my bed for what will be another sleepless night. Waiting for dawn to come.

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