How to Deal with Anxiety ☹ a.f.i. • a.u.

28: "I remember the rain."

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Kat

I remember the rain. I remember the pain that still burned within my chest. I remember the engraving on his headstone.

It was as if the heavens themselves were crying for him too, spilling their tears upon our ebony dresses and suits.

Ashton's beside me, I remember that too. His tears are silent while mine echo across the graveyard. I had fallen to my knees, my hand trembling as I placed a rose atop of the freshly filled earth. That too was dying, on borrowed time. Kayden loved roses; this I remember most.

"It isn't fair." I had whimpered, flinching as Ashton knelt beside me, his cold touch finding my exposed shoulder, "Death is simply too eager to wait for the pure in heart."

Ashton had held me in that position for ages, letting me grieve for as long as my heart continued to sob. So many of us were still in shock.

"He loved you, Kat. He wouldn't want-" He started to say.

"Me to grieve?" I finished with a sigh, looking at him, my eyes surely swollen, mascara fleeing from them, "That's the thing, Ash. I won't ever know what he truly wanted."

My eyes fell back upon the headstone of my cousin, the Bible verse of his epitaph forever engraved in my mind: Joshua 1:9. "Be strong and courageous..." Oh, how I am trying.

The world returns to reality, and begins to move in slow motion.

These memories flash vividly across my vision as I rush to Luke's side. His skin is as white as snow, but the small stream of blood trickling down his chin is as striking as sin. I think I'm yelling, but all I hear is my own blood rushing through my ears.

As my eyes dart to the heart monitor, I catch Michael in my line of sight. He's also ghost-like, his pale eyes widened, and his mouth stuttering the same line, "Oh my God, I've killed him...", obviously in a severe state of shock.

With a fleeting glance at Luke, I take Michael's arm, knowing I need to get him away from Luke while the doctors get to him. He's much too dazed to put up any sort of fight, and the professionals are already halfway to Luke. I locate my phone, paying little attention to the slight crack in the screen, and gently take Michael out of the room. With a shaking grasp, this is no easy task.

Once the door is closed, the deafening sounds of reality return to my ears and the ringing is no more. My back hits the door of the fateful room, and I slide to the ground, defeated.

"He can't die, he just can't..." Michael was muttering, tugging anxiously at his hair as he paces the hallway; back and forth, back and forth. Back. Forth. Repeat.

The rainy day of the past returns, I can feel the cold tears of the clouds hitting my face as I scream into the sky, demanding a reason for taking him away from me.

"He's not dead." I had shouted, my voice ragged with grief, "Kayden can't be dead..."

"K-Kayden...?" The painter's voice suddenly addresses me. The rain is gone, my face is dry, and I realize I'd been speaking aloud.

"Luke. I-I meant Luke." I whimper, embarrased at the senseless outburst.

Before the artist can question me further, Ashton and Calum appear at his side, breathing heavily, demanding to be updated on the situation. Calum has since changed, his eyes are noticeably swollen as well.

"What the hell is going on, Kat?" Ashton demands, helping me off of the floor with a firm grip. I know he's not meaning to sound angry, but in my current state of confusion, I can't help but flinch at his harsh tone.