The morning light shimmered through the glass windows of the kitchen. I arose from the ground where I had fallen asleep last night still in my gown with my face painted with makeup. I did one last circle around the house to see if by any chance Luke had come home. He hadn't.
I put a fresh pot of coffee to brew and picked up a book and a pen. I sat down and thought. The words easily flowed through me. Last night had been one of the worst of my life, though I suppose I could say that about all of the nights for a while now. But this one left me with something more. I now knew what I hadn't seen before.
I was strangely calm. I didn't know how or why, but something just felt like for once I was doing what was right. I was ready, perhaps I had been ready for a while. I sipped my morning coffee and dropped my pen. I made my way to the garden and picked out a single rose. A white rose.
Aphrodite, the goddess of love, was said to have come to life from the foaming sea. When she met the earth, the foam fell to the ground beneath her. It was from there that the white roses grew. The white rose symbolizes purity and the innocence of a world untarnished. But what many don't know is that the white rose is called the flower of light, representing a love everlasting. It poses as a love sustained by loyalty and humility, an eternal love stronger than all things, even death.
-Luke-
I burst through the door to the house on the corner, the house where I fell in love for the first time.
"Kennedy!" I shouted, out of breath.
Silence responded to me. I ran up the stairs to our bedroom, where the bed was neatly made. I ran out to the garden, where only the roses greeted me. I stopped to catch my breath in the kitchen where I found her coffee cup stained with the signature outline of her red lips. I picked up a white rose sitting atop of a familiar book on the table. It was the book of poems Kennedy had picked out for me on our first date. It lay open and I stared at the page covered in her familiar neat handwriting.
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My heart stopped as I realized what I was staring at.
"Luke, I have your bag!" Ashton called as he walked through the front door. "Woah, what's wrong man?" He asked as my face crumbled.
He rushed towards me dropping the bag on the floor. "Luke, what's going on?"
I clenched the book to my chest and tried to speak between sobs. "She's gone."
"What do you mean? Kennedy?" He asked holding my shoulders gently.
I couldn't breathe. I choked on my grief.
"Luke, what do you need me to do?" Ashton asked desperate to calm me down.
"Call the police."
- - -
My head spun and I couldn't focus on anything. The officers standing in the kitchen asked me questions I didn't know the answers to. They scribbled things down on their notepads and looked at me sympathetically. They sent out a search party immediately and told me to stay calm.
Staying calm wasn't even a possibility for me. I was hysterical. The boys kept trying to relax me but it was an impossible task. I finally couldn't take hearing another "it's going to be ok".
"IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OK!" I screamed. "She's probably dead by now! I killed her! I killed my girlfriend! I- I-" My eyes darted everywhere, unable to focus. I couldn't take it anymore.
So I ran. I ran to escape the eyes watching me. I ran to get out of the house that reminded me of her. I ran to be alone. I ran to escape myself, but I couldn't.
- - -
"Oh come on, just one more." I begged.
"Sorry man, you've been here for the past few hours. You're going to get alcohol poisoning if you keep going at this rate." The bartender warned.
"What's your name?" I slurred.
"Tom."
"Listen, Tom," I laughed in my drunken state. "The love of my life committed suicide today. When I say pour me another drink, you fucking pour me another drink." The last part came out like a snarl, animalistic and mean.
He nodded silently, about to pour more liquor in my glass when a hand stopped him.
"That'll be all, thank you." A familiar voice called from behind me. Ashton set out a fat wad of cash to pay for my reckless night out.
"What are you doing here?" I coughed.
"Stopping you from drinking yourself to death." He responded, pulling me to my feet.
"Don't talk to me about death." I snapped.
He apologized and proceeded to lead me away from the bar. I wobbled, I was more than drunk, I was fucking trashed. I couldn't even feel the floor beneath me. Ashton wrapped my arm over his shoulder and helped me out of the bar. I was too drowsy to put up a fight so I just let him buckle me into the passenger seat of his car.
"I don't want to go home." I whined. It came out as childish, but in reality there was no way I could return to that house without losing the little piece of sanity that I had left.
Ashton nodded, "I'm not taking you home."
After driving in silence for a long period of time, I said what was on my mind.
"Ashton?"
"Mhmm?" He replied, eyes still on the road.
I thought for a moment before revealing what had been haunting me. "I never told her I loved her."
His eyes softened. "She knew you loved her."
- - -
The beds were pushed together like they were when the band was starting out and we shared hotel rooms. With the help of Calum and Michael, Ashton was able to remove the clothes from my giraffe limbs and put me in some clean pajamas. I collapsed in the conjoined beds and my band mates filled in the rest of the space. We weren't the skinny teenage boys, we once were and it was now a tighter fit, but it still felt nice to not be alone.
After lying in the dark for a few minutes, trying to sleep, I turned onto my back.
"You ok?" Michael asked in a whisper even though none of us were asleep yet.
"It hurts." I replied finally letting the feelings I had been repressing all day sink in. "It hurts everywhere."
