There are different kinds of guilt; the kind that drowns you until you feel worthless, and the kind that fires your soul to purpose...
...there's also the kind that cuts through your neck until it feels bone, but by then it's too late to feel anythi...
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Mea had dropped Camille off at home straight after school. The drive way was clear, as was the garage. Her mom wasn’t home yet. She felt thrilled for a split second at having the place to herself, but considering what had happened, she had a heavy feeling in her gut. It was just herself and her mom in the house. Her mom was pretty busy with early morning shifts at the hospital, and she was usually back at this time. But the note this morning was obviously something much more serious, as she had since found out.
Her Dad was never around. Sad, but true. Her alone time was very valuable to her. It was a time to think and relax without having a nagging worry machine in her ear at all times. Her mom was particularly protective her, and after Natalya’s death, she guessed it was only going to get worse.
Camille worried about it as she walked up the driveway towards the front door. She unlocked the door and threw it open. The furniture stood still, and the pitch quiet hit her instantly. Maybe the alone time wasn’t so good after all? Or maybe she was just as a worry addict as her mom.
Camille immediately took herself to her room, walking up the narrow stairway. She threw her bag onto the carpeted floor and plunged onto her bed like a rock. The day was exhausting. She was called for her interview straight after AP English. It was more predictably straight forward than she thought. Where were you between 10PM and 2AM last night? Can anyone confirm that? When was the last time you interacted with Natalya? At least she could answer every question. She imagined sitting frozen to her seat in an uncomfortable silence many times.
Her phone buzzed, signalling notifications from Facebook, Snapchat and Twitter. She tried to avoid her phone all day, after knowing what had happened to Natalya. She guessed that her news feed would be full of death notices and newspaper articles. She wasn’t wrong.
Facebook was filled with memorial posts for Natalya, about how she will be missed dearly and about how sad it is to lose someone so young. The official crime enforcements page even had a post up, asking people if they know anything about what happened to Natalya or about who committed the crime to let them know. Twitter was the same, but to a much larger scale. Heck, #AshmoreMurder was trending.
