Can I Have Your Attention Please

Chapter 47: Departure

QOC: Would you rather eat cake for the rest of your life but not be able to taste it, or eat rotten strawberries (for the rest of your life and nothing else) that make you vomit every time you digest them because they smell and taste awful. However, the rotten strawberries give you the ability to read peoples' minds.

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Kason's POV
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Three days later...

Rain patters on the car window. It's dead silent in the vehicle.

Kassidy and my mom don't talk around me. They don't talk to me. They tried on the day of Sam's funeral, but I snapped at them. I should feel guilty, but I can't. I want to join Sam already. Maybe I should. I have nothing going for me here anyway. And I'm sure there's space up there.

Just the thought of her in my arms makes me feel that much better. It's all it takes; it's just the idea of her being around me that makes me less pissed off at the world. But it only lasts for a second. Because she may bring light to my mind, but she's not really here. She's not ever going to be again.

Kassidy and I are driving back home after having a talk with the police. We told them the anonymous person who delivered the evidence was Sam Conaway, and now she's dead. I told them I wanted him caught, or I might do something I won't regret.

They told me that they are working on it. But how long have they been "working on it?" Sam worked her ass off to put fuck stick behind bars, or worse. It's whatever the judge decides. And whatever that may be, I really don't give a shit.

What I do care about is how my mom is going to react to it all. She's most definitely going to plead for us and the police not to go through with it all. But I'm tired of feeling pity for her and giving her slack. There is no slack left. He would've tried to murder her, and cover it up if not for cancer. And there would be no police involved in that case. I would've done indescribably painful things to him. And I have half a mind to do so now.

Anyway, I'm sure my sunken eyes and exhausted, furious expression made the cops want to speed up the process. They weren't threatened. They're just sort of surprised. Regardless, it should call attention to the case more, even though it should already be a priority.

We're halfway home, and I stop at a red light when Kass speaks up.

"Look, you're not okay," she says, breaking the preferred silence. "I'm not okay. No one is okay. This is such a big, difficult process. But you're not the only one going through it."

My hands tighten around the wheel as the light turns green. "I love her. It's not the same process," I scoff. "Not at all."

"She's dead, Kason!" she shouts incredulously. I feel my composure crack at the words said aloud. "She's dead and we all have to deal with it in our own ways. But we're your family. We want to help. And we want your help. No one will move on if you don't."

"Well I guess no one's moving on then."

I feel my sister stare at me angrily, but I keep a stoic expression on. She chooses not to say anything further - a wise decision - and scoffs, facing the windshield. Her throat chokes up and cracks as she shakes her head. Her arms are crossed. She licks her lips to help get rid of the urge to start crying. And I really hope it works, because I can't deal with her tears plus my own grief right now. Not yet. I can't. It's all too heavy.