To You, Who Left Me Behind

Part 1

Author Note: this story was inspired by the song "Killing Loneliness" by HIM and the music video. Good Charlotte's "Hold On" also served as inspiration. I hope you like it.

                We need a new couch. I don't know how long I can sleep on this lumpy thing with springs poking my back. I don't even think the couch cushions have springs but something keeps poking me when I roll over. It's the sunlight streaming through the blinds of the living room that wake me. Face scrunched, I roll onto my side and pick my phone off the floor before the alarm can annoy me and turn it off. Then I sit up and look around. The living room is the same as always and for some reason it never fails to surprise me. Homes change with different people living in it not when the people already living in it change. I get up and take my pillow and blankets upstairs.

             The pillow and blankets don't go in our room (I still think of it as our room) but hallway closet. I go to the laundry room downstairs to get my clothes and take a shower. I don't go in our room—I mean that room—unless I absolutely have to.

            While I'm brushing my hair the brush slips from my hand and clatters on the tile. Irritated, I bend down between the sink and toilet to grab it when something catches my eye. Reaching farther I pull out a gold hair tie from behind the toilet right under the tank. It takes me a second to realize it is Sophia's hair tie. She was always pulling them out, setting them on the top of the tank then they'd fall on the floor to be forgotten or lost. Sophia was always accusing me of taking her hair ties when she was the one losing them.

            There are still strands of brown and highlight-colored hair clinging to the circular strip. I frown and press my lips together before placing the tie on the sink counter and exit the bathroom.

            Gold was Sophia's favorite color. Mine is green. Gold is the color associated with wealth and wisdom. Green is the color of nature and youth. I associate green with life like my name.

            Life. Maybe if our parents had named her Zoe instead of Sophia she'd still be here.

            Mom's in the kitchen. I rarely see her move; she's always in the room already when I come home. It's like she's a statue somebody moves around the house to give the illusion of a happy family. Today she's standing at the kitchen island holding a mug of coffee and staring blankly out the window. She's still in her bathrobe, her messy hair sticking out from her scrunchy. Mom hasn't left the house since finding Sophia upstairs in our—that — room. Mr. Ned, her boss, said she can come back whenever she's ready. Yeah, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. I go around the other side of the island watching as her sightless eyes refuse to follow my progress to the fridge.

            "Morning, mom," I can't help but say. I take a bottle of orange juice out and stick it in the holder of my book bag. Nothing. I grab a muffin and head out the front door without my usual "see you later, mom." I mean, what would be the point?

            The walk to the bus stop is uneventful. It never fails to amaze me how the world still goes on no matter what. If someone dies, people still go to their jobs, kids still go to school, and the sun still shines all freaking day. After four months, I wish my life would start to turn again and go back to some semblance of normalcy. Instead it's like I'm stuck in a department store where sales-clerk dad isn't around to help when I need it and mannequin mom just stares off into space also offering no real help. Sophia is gone but guess what? I'm still here. I miss her too but I don't want to miss her alone. Can't we grieve together? Maybe then we can get past it all.