The Demon I Let Ruin Me

EIGHTEEN

As I sit in the library, reading to a dozen little kids about green eggs and ham, I feel better. Like I've been detoxed of Edward and everything that happened.
Though it was only 10 days ago, I feel relief in the way that he doesn't cross my mind like he did every 2 minutes only a week and a half ago. And it's all thanks to Harry. But theres still a large part of me that knows Edward will always be in the back of my mind. What could have been, what I thought it was. And what if really was.
In a break up, people move on and find someone else eventually and stop thinking about the person it didn't work out with but when you're world gets torn down piece by piece, in the span of a day, it's harder to just pick up and move on.
I always wish that Edward and I just went through a break up and I imagine that I'll be fine in a while but thinking about how it all went down, with what he said, it won't be so easy.
I wish I could go yell at him and tell him how he fucked me up, how completely destroyed me. But he got an easy out. He got to die, something I wish I could do every once in a while. Just so I don't have to deal with this pain anymore.
As much as I wish that I could wake up in the morning and feel nothing and not even remember anything that happened, it's not so simple. Nothing about Edward was ever simple.
Harry is simple, Harry is easy. He's the easiest person to be around. Harry. I made a promise that as soon as I got my shit together, I'd go on a date with him. We make more sense together than Edward and I ever did. I wish we did.
I've been doing a lot of wishing these past 2 weeks. Too much, really. It's part of the reason I'm still do down. Because I wish too much on stuff that isn't possible, I'm dwelling on the past. I just can't seem to shake it though.
Most people hold on to hope in times like these but I'm holding on to wishing. Wishing that my past relationship would have worked out, wishing that he would have turned out to be who I thought he was, wishing that he hadn't died. It's all a lost cause.
I need closure. Edward hurt me and then died right after. I need to find a way to get closure in that and then I can really start to move on. From all of it.

After work I begin my drive and before I can stop myself, I drive to the cemetery where Edward was buried. I remember where he was buried because it was next to an old stump. Someone used that as a memorial for their loved one. I find the stump and sure enough I see Edwards grave. Seeing his name on the large piece of cement is heart breaking. His name, the day he was born, Feb. 1st 1994, the day he died. Nov. 14th 2016. And a quote. Gone but never forgotten. In our hearts, he stays forever. I smirk at that because I know Edward would have called that lame. And in some way I think he did see it. Edward found everything cheesy to be lame. I tried to watch the Notebook with him and he said it was dumb. Maybe he was right.

"Hi." I gulp. I hear it brings closure to talk to a persons final resting place so I hope it does. "I don't know why I'm here...I'm probably the last person you want visiting your grave. But I need this and honestly?" I sigh. I sit down, next to the fresh grave and I begin picking at the grass as I speak. "You don't get a say. The last week and a half has been absolutely hell. If you were still alive I'd be able to come to your house and slap you across the face or yell at you or...something. This, me sitting at a cemetery, in December, practically freezing to death, talking to a tombstone...I never considered this. Who would?" What am I doing? This isn't helping.
"You could have at least given me a better explanation. I would have considered more lies, like you just didn't want to be with me anymore or that you didn't love me anymore." That sounds terrible. I shouldn't want more lies from him but knowing he was going to die the next day, it would have been better to spend the rest of my life thinking he stopped loving me rather than him never loving me at all. "But not that, not that. People seem to think because of who you were when you were alive, you deserve the worst punishment in death but...I can't picture you in hell. It just doesn't seem that way. People who go to hell are-are murderers, pedophiles...people like that. Not a 22 year old that hurt a couple girls feelings? Surely god has bigger fish to fry." I pause, looking out over the blue sky. Is he up there? Is anyone up there at all?
"What's weird is, you'd think someone in my situation would hate you. Would be so glad to hear of your death but I don't. And I'm not. Its sad to know you are gone but I'll be okay eventually. I wish it was easier." I wipe away the tears I didn't know I had and sigh. I grab the necklace he gave me for our 1 month anniversary and place it on his grave, burying it with him, along with his memory.

"McKayla?" A familiar voice says from behind me. I turn and see Marcel standing there. I've only met him once. He was sweet.

"Marcel." I exclaim as I stand up. I wipe my pants off and step closer to him.

"Getting closure?" He asks, adjusting the glasses on his face and I nod sadly. "Me too." He sighs

"I didn't think I'd need it. Didn't think it would help either and now I feel better." I explain.

"I've come to realize that it'll never help. This is my 3rd time here and I still have so many unresolved issues."

"I find that if you speak from your heart. And genuinely talk about all your issues...you'll feel better."

"Maybe. I guess I just find it a bit odd to talk to a dead person." He shrugs. I laugh and nod in agreement.

"McKayla." Another voice calls my name and I look behind Marcel to see Harry.

"Hi." I say and stride over to him. He pulls me in for a warm embrace. "How did you find me?" I ask.

"I actually didn't come here to find you." He admits. "Marcel asked me to come with him."

"Oh." I say. "Well I think I'm gunna go so you guys have..." I fade. What kind of time would they have? Not good I assume but I don't want to tell them to have a bad time.

"Are you okay?" He asks, acknowledging my upset look. How am I? That's a loaded question at this point and I honestly don't know how to answer.

"Fine." I state and go to my car. He doesn't need to worry about me right now. He needs to help his brother mourn. I've had my time to grieve. Someone else needs to take the pain.

I drive home, taking the long way so I can think more. Talking to Edward's grave helped more than I thought it would. I feel a huge weight off my shoulders now. Everything that needed to be said to him was said, even if he didn't hear it.

When I get home I go inside and take off my work clothes because they're covered in dirt now. A knock on my door interrupts my changing and I put on my robe, being in just my undergarments now.
I open the door to find Harry standing there and I get confused.

"Shouldn't you be with Marcel?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"You think I'd let you be sad without me? I could tell something was wrong." He explains and my heart swells at the thought of him being about to tell I'm upset even when I hide it as well as I can.

"I'm fine. I told you. You shouldn't have left Marcel." I tell him, folding my arms across my chest as he comes in.

"You should know by now that I know you well enough to know when you're upset." He points out and I know he's right. "What-Why were you at the cemetery?" He asks but I know he knows the answer.

"I got the closure I didn't think I needed." I admit.

"Are you upset about seeing his grave?" And I stop to think? Am I?

"I don't know." I say after a second. "Are you?"

"No." He says and I look at him. How is he so okay with all of this? His nonchalant attitude makes me upset and he can see it. "What's wrong?"

"You're not upset about any of this?" I say.

"I am upset... that he hurt you. That he fucked you up so much and there's nothing I can do to fix it." He admits.

"He's your brother and you don't even care that he's dead." I groan. How can he just act like nothing is wrong? How is nothing wrong?

"Why do you want me to be upset so badly?" He asks, considered.

"Because!" I shout. "I'm so tired of being the sad one. The one who's either crying or just depressed. And he's your brother for god sakes. Take some of my pain, please. I'm tired." I begin to cry. "So tired."

"Okay. Calm down." He grabs me and pulls me into his embrace. This is exactly what I'm tired of, being the crying one. I pull away and wipe my eyes.

"I'm not doing this anymore." I state and I mean it. I'm no longer going to cry about this. I need to move forward. "No more crying." I wipe my tears. "No looking back, only forward." And I don't know who I'm telling this to.