F L I N G - M A L U M

We Won't Bury You

We Wont Bury You - The Wonder Years

Yes I know, another song by The Wonder Years. Apart from 5sos, they're probably one of my absolute favourite bands.
Any feedback is highly appreciated!!

The book is a bit of a mess right now, but it will hopefully kick off soon hahaha. I'm not one  for rushing into things :-)

.•••••••••••••••••••••••••••.

Cals POV

I wake up with a sneeze. Because I fell asleep and spent most of the night in the park, I now have a cold. I'm glad that I made my way home at 2am, otherwise it'd only be worse.

I stretch out of bed and check the time, 6:14am. The house, for the first time in a long time, is completely quiet. The sound of comfortable silence is something truly beautifully and rare.

Pulling on a hoodie and a pair of shorts, I make my way down the stairs and out the front door. The cool breeze and grey clouds in the sky make the day feel glum, more so than it already would be.

It's currently autumn, meaning that in the morning it's quite cool and I often find myself in a jumper, but in the afternoon it can get pretty hot. The birds chirping around me give the environment a brighter feel, and the emptiness of the streets makes makes me feel at ease. But I'm in no mood for that.

Struggling to drag one foot in front of the other with my body still aching, I plug my headphones in and put car radio on repeat. I only listen to this song every year on this day, and I'm not sure why.

Eventually I find a flower shop and walk inside, browsing all the different flowers. I grab some bright coloured flowers and make my way to the counter and pay.
It's lucky for me that the cemetery (graveyard) is close by.

I cross the road and walk over to tombstone I'm looking for,
'Jamie Thomas Hood, 1972-2016.
A loving sister and Aunty.'
She didn't want to be buried, so we didn't bury her, but we still got her a tombstone.

I place the flowers down at the base of the grave and sink to my knees. I don't remember much about her, but I still miss her.

"Jamie, we all miss you. I read somewhere once that talking to you like you're still here is something that I'm meant to do, but I'm not sure what to say."

I take a deep breath before continuing,
"Am I mean to tell you happy three year death anniversary? Or am I meant to say I'm sorry, even though I don't know what I'm sorry for. Our house feels empty without you staying in the spare room, even though it was pretty much your room.
But I'm not home much anyway.
They argue a lot more now, and I'm not sure why. I wish you could come back. I don't remember you much but I know when you were here everything was easier, happier even,"  My voice is beginning to quaver as I try to hold back tears.

I place my hand on the tombstone and keep talking,
"I don't know how you died, they wouldn't tell me. But I feel responsible. I think about your death and all I feel is guilt. Did I do something wrong? I need you to tell me! I don't know what's happening anymore in my life!"

I begin to tug at my hair as I burst, almost like a dam would. I bring my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them, trying to silence my sobs against my knees.
"Please," my voice cracks, muffled by my legs, "We need you back. Everything is different now, and I don't understand why."