Her Lies, His Truth || ✔️

francis

francis

"We have really sad news to deliver today," started Mrs. Paul, her chin wobbling and her eyes glistening with tears. "Kelly Anderson has . . . she . . . um, she . . . " she couldn't finish the sentence, breaking into hysterical sobbing. Erin, a friend of Kelly, went to hug Mrs. Paul, comforting her.

The class sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what was happening. Francis's mind was reeling. Why was Mrs. Paul crying? What happened to Kelly? God, was Kelly okay? Please be okay.

The door opened and Mr. George, the school's principal, walked into the classroom. What the hell was happening? Mr. George looked more troubled than normal. He seemed to have aged years since the last time Francis saw him. He walked to the front of the class, patting Mrs. Paul on the back and faced the class.

"Today we got heart breaking news. Kelly Anderson, a fellow classmate, was found dead at her house's bathroom floor last night. Kelly Anderson is dead."

The world stopped, the chatter and gasps around Francis were drowned out. He couldn't hear anything, nothing. He couldn't feel, think, or see anything. It was all a blur, a blur that wasn't focusing.

Francis stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. The sound echoed throughout the room, and all eyes turned to him. He clenched his fists and turned to the door. Francis heard a faint shout of his name, but ignored it. He pulled the door open, walked out of the classroom. Slowly walking, then his pace picked up until he was sprinting out of the school. Francis' feet slapped the pavement, his lungs burning as he gasped for breaths. But he ignored all that until he reached his destination.

The brick house stood proud and tall, looking exactly the same as it had all those years ago. Francis walked to the front door, the wooden door looking older than he remembered. He knocked lightly, then harder and harder until the door opened. A petite women faced him, her blonde hair messy and mascara running in streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"I heard," he managed to gasp, his lungs aching and screaming for breath. A sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, Francis," she sobbed, hugging me, squeezing me tight.

My eyes stung, remembering the events of the morning. Guilt threatened to strangle him. He should have been there for her. He was her best friend, he knew her since they were children. He should have never left her.

Why did he? Because she became cool? Because she made new friends? It wasn't like she left him, she still made time for him. But he was selfish, and he didn't want to share her with anyone. And the result was that he wasn't even close enough to notice that she was suffering. That she was so sad and alone that she killed herself.

He loved her. He loved her. She did too—Francis remembered a time when they were happy. But the doubts that entered his mind and took root there, the outside influences . . . at one point he forgot what they had. Forgot their love. And that was his biggest mistake.

•••

Here's a sad conclusion to Kelly's story, because it is Kelly's story, Anonymous just played a part in telling it. I like Kelly, she's a great characters that I've enjoyed getting to know again. I think when I first wrote it, she wasn't supposed to die but then the story took shape and well, you know what happened.

As I was editing this chapter I realized that this would be better titled as "Francis" and the next chapter (previously called "After") to be called the epilogue in case you were wondering.

See you next chapter,
Sage