Fix You ~Completed~

Act Forty-Nine

There was a volley between guilt and relief for the next few days. It was a confusion I never wanted to feel again; a confusion nobody deserved. Being torn in between an overwhelming joy over the death of the person you'd expected to spend the rest of your life with and a self-loathing over not being there to protect them really fucking messes with a person.

After Gale burst into Eddie's bedroom the following morning, shouting because he just then got the text from Ed about Kyla dying, he completely flipped his crap over us being in bed together. "Eddie, that is not the way you console someone after their boyfriend dies! That is just wrong! You do not do that!" he hissed, seizing my good arm and pulling me from bed. I groaned, swatting his hand away. "Sorry! I didn't touch one of your bruises, did I?"

"No! You just woke me up," I complained, rubbing my eyes and crawling back to Eddie. He got out of bed and told me to go back to sleep.

When I woke up again, I realized what I said the night before and panicked. I didn't mean it. I really didn't. How could I say that about Kyla? How could I say I was happy he was gone?

I was nothing. Without him, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't do it. I needed him. I didn't care if I had to put up with the shouting and the smacks and the 'apologies.' I needed Kyla and he left me.

Gale came in around that time and forced me to eat, saying I'd been unconscious for nearly a whole day. He and Eddie had made lasagna remembering that it was my favorite, but I only ate a few strands before running to vomit in a trash can Eddie had placed near his bed.

"Did you really find the body?" my ginger friend asked when I sat back down and curled up into a ball on the bed. He hesitantly started to rub my bad shoulder, something the doctor said would help reduce pain.

I nodded. "Eddie dropped me off and I found him dead on our couch. It took me a few minutes to realize he wasn't sleeping," I explained, my eyes wide open. They felt so dry after I wasted all their moisture over Kyla and his selfish departure from earth.

I didn't care if he meant to overdose; he chose to put those drugs in his body, therefore he chose to die.

"That garbage human has put you through so much," Gale whispered.

I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. "I'm just glad it's over," I muttered. I'd gone back to my strange combination of anger and pure joy, realizing it felt a whole hell of a lot better than the sad guilt. Kyla didn't deserve for me to miss him. He deserved to rot six feet underground. "He's gone. I don't have to worry about it anymore."

"Clem, when you're ready, we're here to listen to you. You can tell us everything if you want, or nothing. It would probably be better if you at least got some of it out. Sorry, I just looked up stuff about this online and it suggested that talking to loved ones can help the grieving process go by faster," Gale nervously went on, still massaging me.

I nodded. "I'll tell you guys everything you want to know. Where's Ed? He should hear this too."