Losing Oliver

Prologue

Working on rewriting, editing, and lengthening the chapters.
~Rachel

It was cold, the day he died. There was freshly fallen snow on the ground, the first snowfall of the year and on the last day of winter break. The neighborhoods stayed completely still, but the swing set in my backyard blew in the sweeping wind. When I woke up and walked into the kitchen, I was expecting it to be a typical lazy day, until I saw their grim faces.

Mrs. And Mr. Franklin sat at the small table where my dad and I ate our meals. Coffee cups sat in their hands, radiating heat from their warm contents. Mrs. Franklin's hair was curled in knots and slightly damp. Mr. Franklin had chapped lips, split open in multiple places with skin peeled back. His usual work tie was pulled away from his button-up's collar.

Their faces were vacant, similar to the snow-covered streets.

My father stepped in, coffee pot shaking in his hand. Setting it down, his eyes observed it a bit too intently. When he finally looked up, his lips hesitated.

"Lucy.." He began, somehow managing to form the devastating few words. Oliver... I couldn't accept it.

Mr. Franklin proceeded to explain what had happened, logical as always. He laid out the facts. Only someone who had known him for a long time could tell how broken up he was. The thin line that his mouth made, how he stopped momentarily to choke down the beginnings of a sob, and the way his strong voice quaked toward the end of his factual monologue.

Death hardly had a place in my life. The only person I knew personally who died was my grandpa, and that was when I was six. I'd give condolences to people who had someone close to them die, but the truth is, I never really could relate. I never experienced it, I never felt what they did at that moment.

Damn, how those feelings ravaged my chest, my head, my head... I felt my stomach churn, before nausea flooded my system.

"Honey," Mrs. Franklin reached out to me, but I jumped back.

"No!" My voice came out shrill, frantic. Bile rose in my throat. "No.."

I turned away from them all and rushed to the bathroom. Throwing myself in front of the toilet, I swore I was going to puke.

When nothing came up, I moved my arms away from the seat and wrapped around my legs. The tile floor cooled my flushed skin as I laid down on it. Wisps of hair stuck to my cheeks, wet from tears. My heart thudded against my chest, letting me know it was still working though it felt broken.

People tried to talk to me, comfort me, yet I couldn't hear a thing.
He's gone, he's gone, he's gone...

Panic immediately flooded my system, causing me to bawl for what felt like hours. I felt like never getting up from that bathroom floor.

It just kept repeating and repeating over and over in my head. I'd never see Oliver again.

He would've told me, wouldn't he? We told each other everything, so why not something so earth-shattering?

The entire few months that he suffered silently were so obvious now. There were so many signs I saw but ignored because I thought it was nothing. How wasn't I concerned by the thinning of his hair or the visible weakening of his body?

How..? Why him of all the damn people who could've been taken from me?

It was all so obvious.

His sweet soft green eyes and freckled cheeks flashed before my eyes. How I would miss them. It was when we were little that I remembered him most.