I picked at the loops of lace that swirled around the folds of my dress. A black thread came loose and I twirled it around my finger, wrapping it around my polished nail.
It was so pointless the effort that had gone into making me look pretty. The mascara caked onto my lashes, the foundation to cover the bags beneath my eyes and the blotches on my skin from crying.
I hadn't slept in days.
A sob rose from the front row of pews and I glanced up across the sea shoulders to see a pair clad in a black cardigan shake with tears.
I could almost imagine the pearly drops streaming down her wrinkled face as it contorted with pain, silent cries wracking her frail body.
The grief had obviously taken a toll on her too. Her normally nut brown skin had become a greyish hue, and her eyes that reminded me of his every time I caught their gaze had been bleached of colour and were constantly washed with fresh, shining tears.
I don't blame her. I've spent the past week lying on my bed, letting the sun rise and fall to my left through the rain beaten panes of my window, day after day, from vibrant oranges to dusky pinks, not once turning my head to admire the view.
It didn't really matter to me anymore. I used to spent the whole winter waiting and waiting for the first rays of summer but when you've spent the whole of it perched on a worn armchair clutching a cold hand encircled by a medical band, it loses it's appeal.
I looked down again, scraping the toe of my black sneaker along the warped wood of the church floor, following the swirling, ancient grain.
I heard rustling as everyone around me rose, a silent swoosh of black. I felt my wrist being pulled, forcing me to follow suit. I kept my eyes fixed on the stitched pattern of the prayer cushion at my feet.
I suddenly felt warm breath in my ear and my arm being shaken as Maddie frantically gestured over to the middle aisle from beside me, a desperate look on her face.
I gazed distantly at her before shifting my stare to watch him.
A simple wooden box was being walked down the aisle, trailing flowers that weeped petals, a procession of hooded figures in black. Just black.
I felt like I should cry, show him how I felt right here right now, but I felt as though I had had the emotions sucked out of me, dripped dry of tears.
I lifted my eyes away from him and stared instead at the vaulted ceiling, at the lone doves roosting in the beams, oblivious to the sea of mourners below. There was seriously nothing I wouldn't give right now to be a bird.
Suddenly, the doors were swept open behind me, a blaze of English sunshine washed throughout the church, causing me to squint a lift a hand to my eyes as I turned around. I couldn't see him anymore against the harsh light, not that I wanted to. It pained me too much to think about him lying against the the cold velvet inside, finally alone.
Maddie gently stroked my arm with her thumb, not saying anything. She'd been so good throughout this with me, chaining me to reality as I threatened to drift off at any moment and live like the shell of a person, just breathing and staring.
She never once tried to understand the pain I had been through that summer, just accepted it. I think the problem most people have when someone dies is that they try and relate to the one suffering, when what they should be doing is just taking a step back. Not so far that they're out of sight and unable to reach, but not so close that they interfere and are too intense. Maddie remained by my side, a shoulder to cry on and someone to hug when I woke screaming his name and crying hysterically as I grabbed at thin air for his touch.
YOU ARE READING
Seasons
Teen FictionMoving is hard. Moving any distance is. I find it hard just to get out of bed in the morning but another whole country? That's much more difficult. Especially when you have to leave behind your dead boyfriend. My name is Alexandra Grey. I'm the new...