Last Hope (Kellin Quinn) {Book 3}

15. notes

Notes

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood

All I am is a man, I want the world in my hands...

~Kellin~

Kellin,

Over ten years ago, when we were just teenagers, we met. Somehow, someway, we met again. I don't know how it happened. In fact, I don't understand why God would make us meet, make me crash, forget you, have you never even hear about my band, and then we meet up years later. It sounds like something unreal, so obviously we believed it was fait. But then again, the world is actually a small place. So maybe we weren't meant to be? Maybe it was always meant to be you and Allison or Ashley. Whatever her name is. Forgot it already, I'm sorry.

What I'm trying to get at is God is fucked. After all that's happened to me does it really seem right for me to have a soulmate? No. I was always one of those people who were never meant to have a soulmate. I was never one of those people to ever have good luck! I mean cancer, really?

I guess it doesn't matter now No more cancer and no more crazy. No more sad. No more hell for me. I'm not sure if God is real anymore, but whether he is or not I'm happy with where I am now. I just know it.

Kellin, I want you to really think, okay? And then go back to Abigail (whatever her name is) because you met her for a reason, right? You never gave that reason a chance, so try. And take care of the girls. I wanted to write a lot about them, but I couldn't, so all I'm going to say is my biggest mistake was making the first years of their lives shit. I love them, but not enough to think straight. Trea them like the princesses they are. Never any less. Okay? Good. Bye Kells. I love you. Love you...

-Sum

"This is crap," I mumbled after taking a sip from my wine glass. I didn't even care that it was noon. Summer loved wine.

"Kellin," Blu sighed. Her eyes were red, as if shed just been crying. Probably because she was just crying. In her lap was a fussy Beau. Next to her was Ian, holding a sleepy Allix and confused Della. "We're trying to plan the service. Can you lend a hand or two?"

I scoffed. "Again, this is shit. Absolute, complete-"

"Shut it, man. Before I make you," threatened Zack. Caroline sniffled beside him.

"Come on guys, you all got letters too, didn't you? You should know how I feel."

"Actually, we didn't," Ian eplained. "Only Blu."

I turned to her. "Blu?" Please, she has to agree with me on something! Summer just killed herself for fucks sake! Not even one week ago, too.

"Kellin, she had mental issues. There wasn't anything we could do or say then, and there's nothing we can do or say now. Drop it and pick one: red roses or white roses?"

"Both, and don't be like that! You were her best friend for almost twenty years! It's like you don't even feel anything."

"I just got done crying, you ass. Now stop drinking, stop rereaing that fucking note, and tell me: White or black casket?" she asked.

I grunted. "Open casket or closed?"

Though I asked Blu, Zack gave me an answer. "Closed. They found her body a fucking mess. Face jacked and everything-"

"Dude, shut it!" I can't do this.

"Black or white?" Blu urdged.

"Fuck, white! With red roses beside it, with a gold trim. She liked gold."

"What about something purple?" Blu wondered. "She loved purple."

"Just bring back your purple hair. I miss it that way anyway," mumbled Ian.

"I got rid of it for a reason, Ian. I'm thirty for God's sake. Besides, I'm not going to dye my hair half an unnatural hair color for a funeral. We could dress her in purple?"

Zack coughed, then spoke up. "No, she would probably want to be buried in white. She always thought she looked best in light colors."

"She looked amazing in white," I commented, but no one heard me, or cared to listen if they did.

"I always liked black on her. Or neon colors." Everyone looked to Ian. "What? I thought the bright colors looked good with her black hair."

I groaned. "Guys, I think I'm done planning for now. I can't think straight. I'm gonna go upstairs, lay down for a bit."

When I finally got to a bedroom I closed the door, took my phone out of my pocket, and looked at it, just looked at it. I couldn't go on any sites. Fans were going insane all over Twitter. Every picture I saw on Instagram was related to her. I couldn't call or text anyone. My mom's tired of my crying. My band mates don't really know what to say. And I'll be damned if I call up Jesse again. Did it last night, it was a terrible idea. All he did was make me feel worse...

"Kellin, honestly just stop. I know you're sad and upset, but you're acting like a little scene girl. She committed suicide, Kellin. She didn't just die. Don't you think she had some sort of issues? You can't just tell someone who had issues like that that they're beautiful and you love them or some shit. People with those issues don't get better by saying some stuff, especially when they're like Summer. Although no one was like Summer."

"What do you mean no one was like Summer?" I scoffed. No one was like Summer, in a good way of course. Jesse though, he means some shit.

"She was fucking crazy! And you've been crazy too since you and her got back together in 2012! Face it, we're all going to miss her, but you're better off."

"Jesse..."

"You need to find someone who can take care of herself. Someone who can take care of herself, you, and the kids, because Sum couldn't do shit. She needing help. And that's just the way it was."

Crazy? Sure. But mentally crazy? Fuck that. She wasn't harming anyone. She was going through shit; she couldn't think straight. Right? Okay, no, she has never been a very "normal" or "calm" person. Summer has always been one for the dramatics. That's what makes a relationship amazing though! Nothing was ever the same, nothing was boring.

I mean, no it's not right to kill yourself, even if you're going to die, but... oh my god. She fucking killed herself. This is insane, as if it's the first time I'm realizing this. She fucking killed herself. Maybe Jesse is right. Maybe she did need help. Maybe then she wouldn't have jumped off a bridge and I wouldn't be pacing around the room, wishing for another drink, wishing for my head to clear. Fuck.

A/N: Hey guys. Here's an unedited, short, crappy chapter just because I know you all wanted one. It's been awhile. It might be awhile for the next one. This will probably end at chapter 18 or 19. There will be an epilogue for this and two parts of an alternate ending. Anyway, no poem/picture for this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Until next time...