Still Here [Fillie]

The Realization

Finn's POV

I finally got home early from school. My mom had to pick me up after we talked to a lot of people at school. I talked to a bunch of adults like the principal, the guidance counselor, my teachers, and even the school nurse for some reason. Everyone thinks I'm insane for telling them the truth, Millie isn't dead. Millie was just out sick today, that's all. They all think I'm lying and now I have to see the guidance counselor every morning for three weeks and I have to write about how I feel in my journal every day until I feel "better".

"Finn, I'm sorry that you're upset about Millie's tragic...pass, but I know you can get through this. I just want to you to be happy again, son." Mother softly said as I dropped my backpack and sat at the dining table. I rub my temples and try to hold in my tears. "Are you listening, Finn? You have to stop saying those sick things, it's making everyone uncomfortable." The woman adds. I look up at her with knitted eyebrows.

Sick things? No. The truth. "I'm not saying sick things, I'm telling you the truth. Millie wasn't at school today because she's at home sick." I explain in a high voice. Mom leans her hand on the table and placed her other hand on her forehead. "Sweetie-" "Are you calling me a liar? I know she's out sick and she'll be in school tomorrow." I calmly say to my stressed out mother.

She nods and whispers one word over and over to herself. "Grief. Grief. Grief." I pinch my brows at her. This isn't grief. I don't care what the school says, I'm not grieving. I'm just telling everyone what's really going on. "I think you should go upstairs and start your daily journal exercise." Mom suggests. I roll my eyes and grab my backpack before stomping up the stairs and into my room. I slam the door behind me.

I sat on bed and grabbed my journal from my bag along with a pen. Today was the fourth day since Millie's "death" so I guess I should write that as my entry. I flip my notebook open to the first blank page and begin to write. The guidance counselor says I have to write this like I'm writing a letter to Millie, which should be pretty easy. Maybe I'll give this to her tomorrow as well.

It's day #4 since you "died". I keep telling people that you're alive and that you were just at home and not at school, but no one believes me. They call it grief and say it's denial. It isn't denial, I think. I just know you're still breathing and everything, okay? I'm so tired of everyone treating me like I have a disease. I have to talk to my guidance counselor every morning for the next three weeks now. Can you believe that? I'd rather sit in a quiet dark empty room trapped with my own thoughts than sit in and talk about my feelings for thirty minutes. I feel fine, really, it's everyone else who has a problem. Everyone feels so sad with you being absent. I feel sad too, but I'm not crying my eyes out over the whole thing. I guess you just really make people happy, don't you? See you tomorrow, Millipede.

-Finnie

As I close my journal and put it in my bag, I think about how idiotic and helpless this whole thing will be. I don't even understand why I have to do all of this. Millie's okay and she'll come to school tomorrow with that beautiful smile of hers and laugh at whatever Sadie whispers in her ear and I'll feel my heart skip a beat at her melodic giggle. It's like music to my ears when I hear the girl laugh.

I find myself smiling at the memories of her. Memories of her sitting next to me on the bus every morning and asking how I'm feeling this morning. Memories of her sitting on my couch in the basement, playing with my Star Wars toys and making funny noises when she'd make the space ships look like they were gliding through the air. Memories of her at the pool with a towel wrapped tightly around her body while she sit and admire Sadie in her new bikini because she felt insecure, then I'd sit by her side and tell her not to worry about it and that she chose to wear her bathing suit for a reason, to swim and not to envy or impress.

I frown now, realizing that I'll never get to do any of that again. I'll never get to tell her about how late I stay up at night playing my guitar and keeping my parents and brother up. I'll never get to see her sit on my couch upside down while she wave Darth Vader in the air, coming up with some random dialogue and different crazy scenarios that didn't actually happen because she never saw the movies. I'll never get to sit with her by the pool and look at the reflection of the water in her eyes while I tell her that she was confident enough to buy her swimsuit, so she should be confident enough to swim in it and not give a damn what people think. I'll never get to do any of those things again because she's-... because Millie's dead.

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Short early update because I'm ill and need distractions so look forward to a bunch of updates.

Does anybody know what the next stage of grief is?
(You get a shoutout in the next chapter if you guess right)❤️