pieces.

eve.

note: this story is about a girl who died, and this is basically the aftermath.

The casket was open, but her eyes were closed. He'd never get to see her eyes again. He can't remember the last time he saw them. He did know that he didn't want to ever forget her eyes. He wanted to etch them into his memory. They were like a sea on a rainy day. A violent pool of blue drowning and fading into gray.

        That's how he'd felt: like a glimpse of color drowning in gray. He felt like he was lost. She had been lost, too. Now she was gone. He'd missed her the second she'd left.

        A Few Weeks Ago

        "I don't know how many of you have heard," He knew the teacher had been talking about Eve. Everyone knew the teacher had been talking about Eve. You could tell by the eerie silence that drifted over them as their teacher began to talk. Eve had been gone for weeks now, and no one really knew why. Eve had kept to herself for the weeks before. She didn't seem okay. The teacher continued, "But three Wednesdays ago, Evelyn Masry died."

        The teacher didn't say the cause of death, but they knew. They knew by the way Eve always had mascara smudges around her eyes. They knew by the way Eve always kept to herself. They knew by the way Eve wore dark colors and said poetic things that only someone experiencing what she was going through could fully comprehend. Eve always denied it. She was a shield. She was tough. Eve protected others, even though in the end, she was the one who needed protecting.

        His heart pumped and sank. His heart beat surged through his body. He was pumping and energized, like he could fight to get Eve back. Blood rushed around his body. He couldn't believe it... He couldn't accept it. Eve had been here, in the chair next to him, weeks ago, and now, she's gone. She left. She's not coming back. His head went dizzy and rushed with adrenaline. He was...angry. Eve wasn't supposed to go yet. He was...sad. Eve wasn't supposed to go yet. Eyes all turned to him as he tried to not cry. They knew he'd loved her. Hell, everyone knew he'd loved Eve, except for Eve herself.

                                              . . . . . . . . . .

        People have the tendency to blame themselves for other's deaths. That's what he was doing, because the girl in the casket had loved him, and she was gone because she thought she'd never be loved back. But he had loved her, like an empty sky loves its only star. Eve was a star. Her luminosity was hidden, but he'd found it.

        She was like his sun. The sun may not be the most important star in the universe, but to us, our solar system, it is. He was like a solar system and she was the sun that he orbited around...But she didn't know that. She hadn't ever known, and she never would.

        He peered down and looked at her in the casket now. He wasn't sure whether he was grateful that it was open or not. He wasn't sure how he'd have felt if he couldn't have seen her face for one last time, but seeing her now made him feel worse. Her face was pale, the color had swam away by now. Her lips were pale, too. He remembered when they used to be the shade of temptation, and he remembered when she used to be in color. He remembered when her eyes were open, blue-gray and full of wonder, he remembered when her skin wasn't so pale and when her lips were pink. She was colorless now, just a mere sketch. Soon, she'd be erased. She had already chipped away at the seams, and now she was gone. He wouldn't ever forgive himself for it.

        He missed her. The tears he promised no one would ever see escaped from his eyes as he realized he'd never get to see her ever again. He wouldn't get to smile at her smile and make her laugh. Her laugh was a melody that could get stuck in his head all day and he'd never get sick of it. It was like a waterfall streaming through him. He wouldn't get to see her long eyelashes that were blonde at the edges, and he wouldn't ever get to see her favorite Converse ever again. He wouldn't get to see her hair with waves slowly breaking through. He'd loved her, and she was gone and it was his fault. If only he'd told her, then she would've known she was something...to him.