The Artist / Billie Eilish

Chapter 58

Rose's POV

The ground beneath me squelched noisily as I trudged through the soggy field, grumbling to myself about how much I hadn't missed London's bleak weather.

Holding a hood-less jacket over my head to protect myself from the light coat of rain, I focused my attention on my new shoes getting slowly but surely caked in mud.

Anything to distract myself from what this day actually was.

January 19th.

Every year, the sky felt a little darker on this day. It was always raining, too.

Even if it wasn't raining when I woke up, or when I took a little longer than usual to get ready, it was always raining once I was wading through the never-ending mud sea of gravestones.

It had shocked all of us. No one was expecting it. Obviously.

She was young. She had this whole life.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and I couldn't think about it because I can't stop myself from spiralling and thinking and regretting and wishing and I know for a fact that none of it will bring her back.

You really don't notice the little details about how you exist in someone else's world until
they're gone.

To me, she was sunshine, she was laughter, she was calm.

She kept me rooted. Grounded. She reminded me of everything good in this world when everything else got a little too unbearable.

But, me to her? When was the last time I told her I loved her? How tight did I hug her the last time I did?

Her coats are still in my closet, her shoes by my front door, her weird dairy alternative in my fridge.

There's no way anyone should drink it, now. Obviously. It's been four years.

But I can't throw it away.

Every time I saw that stupid, blue carton, all I remembered were her long, manicured fingers wrapping around it as she drank straight from the lid, through fits of giggles after teasing me about something, her arm wrapping lovingly around my neck as she carried on downing the gross, vegan liquid.

My breath hitched in my throat for a second, and I silently cursed myself for getting sucked back into the memory place.

Finneas had warned me about the memory place. He told me to try and avoid going there, that it doesn't help.

Claudia told me to take a quiet pride in the memory place. I had memories with her that no one had. We had a bond that no one else on the planet could've shared with her. Why not let myself revel in the memories of that?

My hand quickly came up to my face to swipe away a tear, or a raindrop - it could've been either at this point, because I'd just seen the big oak tree near the stile, and as soon as I saw her dark grey marble, the coat being propped up above my head was long forgotten. Discarded somewhere amongst other, less important stones.

She was buried a little further away than everyone.

I don't know why, but I was grateful.

She didn't know any of these people. She would've hated being stuck with them for all of eternity.

Here, in the corner of the graveyard, over by the oak tree, we had our own little sanctuary when I came to visit.

Like it was us again.