Stay Together For The Kids - Michael Clifford Fanfiction

The hardest part.

I don't know how or when I fall asleep, but I wake up in my bed.

Everything hurts, and for a second I forget. I forget why I'm shaking, why my head is pounding, why my pillow is drenched in tears. Then I remember. And I live it all again. I roll over to look at the other side of the bed. I imagine him here. I imagine what he would tell me. He would probably say something semi insulting and I would punch him in the shoulder. That was our love. It wasn't functional. But it was him.

I curl up in a ball, trying to tame the physical pain in my stomach.

I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

"Lily." I hear my mums soft voice through the door.

I don't respond, but she doesn't walk away either.

"Lily." She says again. "There's an officer here for you." Her voice is low and quiet, as if talking in a hushed voice would make whatever she says easier for me.

I push the blanket off quickly, and hurry to open the door.

The worry lines in mums face are apparent, her face looking worn and tired. But she looks relieved to see me.

I follow her down the hall, into the open living room space. I let my feet shuffle on the ground. I want to collapse right here. I force myself to stand instead.

The officer I vaguely recognise as Malone is sitting on the couch, reminding me too much of yesterday, when he had told me....

I fight every natural urge to run, to escape to my room, to lock myself in and pretend that nothing has changed in the outside world. I guess I'm not afforded that luxury. I guess I have to face reality.

"Mrs. Clifford." The officer says hurriedly, standing up to shake my hand.

I take it, and alarm myself at how weak I am, at how exhausting a hand shake is.

He sits back down, and I follow, sitting across from him. Mum sits down next to me. There is already a mug of coffee in front of the officer so I figure mum has already been her hospitable self.

"I have a few questions I need to ask about, just standard." He tells me directly.

I nod. I don't feel like talking. I don't want to relive everything. But I know I need to do this now.

"Our coroner told us you saw him yesterday, that you stayed over at Michael's hotel that night. Is that true?" He asks. He says it in a kind tone but I know he has to get to the point.

"Yes. I met up with him at a bar and I went back to his hotel room." I say quietly. The night is flashing before my eyes. I true to push it away.

Mum looks over at me in surprise. I had forgotten to tell her about that night. I had wanted to forget, to be honest. She doesn't say anything, so the police officer presses on.

"Did he seem normal, nothing out of the ordinary?" He questions, his pen poised on his notepad.

I think back to my last vision of him, the smile on his face. The sad smile, if I remember correctly.

"He seemed ok." I tell him. "He seemed ok enough that I thought I could leave and he would still be alive." My stomach twinges. I left him. He needed me, and I had left him.

There is silence and I know the police officer is trying to determine whether I am telling the truth. I know he must have to do a check on me, I was probably the last person to see him alive.

He finally seems to decide to take my word for it. "Well the toxicology reports have come back." He tells us.

I sit patiently, already knowing what he will say. What I really want to know is if it was all my fault.