𝐷𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐸 | 𝙜𝙞𝙡𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙚

| ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

{ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ }

| Lily |

In the mirror I see the face of someone that would be unrecognizable to me a month and a half ago. The face that stares back at me seemed so different now from the girl I was before I came back. Now I dawn a black dress, sad eyes, and an aching heart. An aching heart for my best friend, whose world just came crumbling down. There are only little pieces left. I like to think of myself as one of those pieces. He's definitely one of mine.

Half of my hair stays tied behind my head with a white ribbon, which was probably the only thing that was still me. The only part that was still a ghost. The bruise that once laid upon my cheekbone has healed so I don't worry about hiding part of my face. I can't help but loathe the girl who stares back at me. The girl who is about to attending a funeral. The girl who has made so many mistakes and carries so many regrets from the last month.

"Lily," my mother knocks on my door, "come down for breakfast now, I've made tea." I don't even say anything to her as I walk past her, heading for the stairs. I don't know if I'll ever forgive her, but for now silence was best.

Upon reaching the dining table she immediately pours me a cup of tea, squeezing my shoulder to guilt trip me into drinking it. I certainly don't have an appetite for anything else at the moment. I sip the tea, feeling the warmth cascade down my throat and into my stomach, it's a comforting feeling, one I certainly needed at the moment.

I notice both of my parents watching me out of the corner of their eyes. They don't question where I went yesterday afternoon, but I know I'll face a punishment for running out. I enjoy the silence between the three of us as I finish the tea. However, the looks they give me every few seconds makes my skin crawl uncomfortably.

Putting down the cup, I let my eyes rest on my hands, waiting for us to go.

ꕥ

Anne and I walk side by side through the snow at John Blythe's funeral. Gilbert walks in front being the only Blythe in attendance. Heads hang low as we walk along somberly but I keep mine up, letting the cold harsh air hit my face, feeling an ounce of reality.

We stop at the graveyard, watching as the black casket is lowered into the ground. I feel pain surge throughout my entire body the second my eyes find Gilbert's face, I can tell instantly that he's broken.

"Let not your heart be troubled," the priest begins, but I barely register the words. A queasy, sickening feeling overcomes me, filling me with fear. It's a feeling all too familiar to me. A feeling I haven't felt in five long years. I grab on to Anne's arm, feeling slightly faint, causing her to look to me with concern. I don't say anything, but I'm beyond terrified.

"For where I am, there ye may be also," the priest finishes, closing his bible as a chorus of "amens" follows. The funeral party begins to disperse, and I feel Anne squeeze my arm lightly.