Today is Chelsea's funeral. It's been only a few weeks- maybe 2 or 3, since Chelsea died. I haven't been home since. I've somewhat been living with Chelsea's mom. Her mom would always tell me that I should go home, because staying in Chelsea's room will just keep the memories stuck in my head.
"You don't understand." I would say. "That's why I'm staying in here. I want these memories. If I let the memories go, I feel like I'm letting her go."
She would just give me a sad look and leave me alone. I eventually told her I would leave after the funeral. Because after all, that's what a funeral is- letting the person go.
The boys and I decided on not wearing suits. We all agreed that Chelsea was a casual girl, and that she wouldn't like us showing up looking "fake".
I haven't spoken to anyone since Chelsea died. Except her mom of course. But becausenof me hiding away, I haven't taking care of myself at all. No shower, no food, no hair brushing or teeth brushing. I was sick of myself honestly. I walked into the bathroom, locked the door and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. I got into the shower and just stared blankly at the white tiles.
After cleaning myself up and attempting to just wash the sadness away, I got out of the shower and dried off. I wrapped the small white towel around my waist and went to open the door. On the other side waiting, was Chelsea's mother.
"Oh gosh I'm so sorry" she says loudly with wide eyes. She turns her head away and covers her eyes with her hands.
I force a chuckle. "It's okay, I'm covered."
"I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You were in there a while." She says, still covering her eyes. "And I made you breakfast." Then she turns and walks down the stairs quickly.
I walk back into Chelsea's room and am greeted with her familiar scent. I made sure to not touch or move anything in her room. I didn't want to lose any memories of her existence.
I dug in my bag and found an oversized sweater, jeans, and boots- all black. Once I slipped those on, I brushed my hair, then ruffled it just to keep it looking natural.
I wandered downstairs to find a full meal- eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and hash browns- sitting on a large plate.
I look over and see Chelsea's mom standing at the island typing away on her phone.
"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask, still standing at the foot of the stairs.
Her head shoots up and she flashes me a kind smile. "I already did sweetie. I wanted to make sure you ate as well. I don't think I saw you come down once..." she stated, worry clearly visible in her eyes.
"Oh." I say, looking down at the plate again. "Well thank you very much."
I pull out the mahogany chair and sit down in front of the large plate. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I actually looked at all of this food. I also felt my stomach drop slightly.
This was Chelsea's favorite breakfast. She would always get this when we'd go to IHOP, or Shari's, or some other diner that served this food. She would also request this as her birthday breakfast. She always called it, "the everything plate". God I miss her.
I sit here and still find it odd that this is real. I keep thinking that she'll walk through the front door and say "mom I'm home!" Give her a kiss and then run to me saying she's missed me. But no, this is all too real for me to handle.
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Bloodshot; A Michael Clifford Fanfic {5SOS} (COMPLETE)
FanfictionMichael wasn't always like this. He wasn't always in such a horrible state, and his eyes weren't always bloodshot. But for one to fathom his feelings, thoughts, and ideas, you must hear it all from the beginning.