Beautiful~

Chapter 2~

I don't know how long it's been since I've slept. Or how long it's been since I moved from this position, staring down at the photo in my hands. We all look so happy, so calm. It feels like a million years ago. Or even in a different life. I want them back, I want them to tuck me in bed, and tell me they love me like they always have. Had. Everything hit me so hard. And now I don't want to feel.

Aunt Jenna comes in every few hours with a tray of hot soup or some water. Sometimes it's some fresh clothes from the dryer. But I just sit, staring blankly at that family photo, another memory I will have to get through.

Hunger is eating at me. It's like their is an endless pit in my stomach. My eyes are baggy and are heavy. I must look like a mess. I can feel my matted hair. My cheeks are rough and stiff from the tears that have rolled down my face. My heart is ice, and it has cracked in two.

The worst part of going through this is being in shock. And being in denial. I still can't believe their gone. I don't know what to do, or what the purpose of my life is. I feel like I'm going to pass out again, but I can't, for some reason. I'm holding myself awake in reality. And all I want is to just get away from it.

I feel someone touch my shoulder. Aunt Jenna. She shakes me, trying to get me out of whatever I'm in. I can hear faint screams as she pleads me to rest and eat. But I tune her out, and I don't know if it's on purpose or not. She falls over onto my lap, and I can feel something wet drip onto my pant leg. Tears.

I realize she's been trying to hold it together for me. She's tried to stay strong and fix me, when she just lost her sister. She's just as wounded as me and now I feel bad that I've left her alone to deal with it herself. How could I be so selfish? I'm finally in reality, and I'm facing it head on.

A lone tear rolls down my face and hits the back of Jenna's neck. She sits up and looks in my eyes. Not through me, but in me. I feel her pain, and she feels mine. Her mascara is smeared across her face, and the tears don't cease coming.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, still looking me in the eyes. Her voice is hoarse.

I close my eyes and say, "Sorry. I'm sorry." I could barely hear myself say that. I haven't said a word in at least two days. Then I have a surge of anger.

I have a mental breakdown. I scream, "Why?! They were good people! Why the hell would this happen to me?! Why should my life be ruined?! What did we ever do wrong?!"

I run into Aunt Jenna's kitchen and see that the pan with the beginning of my

meal isn't sitting there. Like it never happened. I knock a glass over and it shatters onto the hard wood floor. I feel like Princess.

My vision is blurred with tears as I just grab everything around me and throw it onto the floor. Anger is clouding my head. Rage is consuming me. Yet I'm indulged in sadness, not just fury. My emotions are taking me over, when I had just wanted them to go away.

"Please stop! Your hurting yourself!" cries Aunt Jenna from the floor. Only then do I notice that my hands and feet are caked in blood from the millions of pieces covering the floor. Millions of fragments that are like my life: broken.

I fall on my hands and knees, furthering my injuries, and I cry. The tears won't stop coming. They are streaming out like a river. Aunt Jenna walks over and picks me up. I don't fight her. She sets me on the bed in the other room. I just lay there, sobbing to myself, as Jenna gets a wet towel to soak my cuts. She looks me in the eyes again, as she is cleaning off the blood.

"I'm sorry. I'll clean it up," I say to her softly. I feel terrible.

"It's okay, I got it. I don't want you hurting yourself anymore. Take a bath, come eat, and then I want you to rest. Everything is going to be okay," Jenna says with a half-fake smile. I know the last part is a lie. I know everything isn't going to be fine.

I respond, "Okay," and that's all. She helps me to the bathroom, and I undress. Each piece of clothing is a struggle, for my hands are covered in open wounds. The warm water of the bath burns every inch of my cut skin, but I can handle the pain. Definitely more than the death of my parents.

I lay in the bath, thinking of all my regrets. I regret every moment that I was not with my parents. I regret every time I fought with them. Every time I thought I hated them. I was wrong, and now I hate myself for it. I was so stupid. I never thought this would happen. Never. And now all I'm left with is regret and sorrow.

When I exit the bathroom, I see a new pair of cloths in "my" room. I look into the other guest bedroom and see boxes piled up. One is labeled "EVA'S CLOTHES," in big, bold letters. It's all of my stuff. I continue into the room and change into the clothes set out for me. Sweat pants and a shelved tank top.

I am starving, literally, so I rush into the kitchen area. Aunt Jenna is making my favorite: grilled cheese. It was also my mom's favorite. I try not to think of her beautiful smile. I eat a grilled cheese, and devour a second one. I chug a glass of water to quench my thirst, and I don't look at Jenna once.

The entire living room and kitchen is spotless, so she must've been trying to keep her mind off everything. But it's impossible task, honestly. I think of them every waking moment. No matter how hard I try I can't get my mind off of it.

I look out the window and see daylight, it must be at least 1:00. I open the front door and see a fresh bouquet of flowers at my feet. I look and see if anyone just left it. That's when I see this girl with a crazy hat on rushing away from the non-manicured lawn.

"Hey!" I shout, but I don't think she heard me. Or she's ignoring me.

I take the flowers in my arms and see and proceed inside. A small tag pokes out of the bundle. It reads:

Our deepest condolences,

-The McCarthy Group Home For Girls

People are already sending sorry notes, and flowers, and the funeral hasn't even taken place. This just reminds me that they're gone, and know I have to accept it. Whatever I thought my life was going to be, it isn't. And I don't know how to deal with that. I don't know how to deal with any of this.

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A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to vote! The attached photo is what Aunt Jenna would look like. I hope you liked!

~Audrey