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DEATH HAD ALWAYS BEEN A strange phenomenon to Lucy; she struggled processing the concept of it. One minute a person was living, breathing, here – and the next, they just simply weren't. And they wouldn't come back.
How can a person be there – fully matter and so physical, only to grow cold, empty in a number of hours?
It's impossible to describe the paralysing shock, the icy numbness, the cold hand of a harsh reality tightening around the throat. First, silence; where the brain desperately attempts to comprehend the brutal words. Second, the feeling of falling; chest plummeting, gasping for breath, the sheen of water automatically covering wide eyes. The entire world fades away – the unexpectedness, the shock, the disbelief, manifesting into another plane of existence. Third; crashing back to Earth with the force of an earthquake.
Lucy didn't believe it at first. There wasn't an inch in her entire being that believed what her aunt uttered. But, after crashing jarringly back to herself, she noticed things: the tears dripping down her aunt's sharp cheekbones, bloodshot eyes, phone clenched severely in her hand, the eerie silence. It was these small observations that solidified the growing dread in her mind, halting the words of denial on her tongue.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind – one where Lucy wasn't quite aware of her surroundings, and not totally in control of her movements. Her arms reached for a jumper, legs stumbling after her crying aunt. She found her grandfather by the door, face unyieldingly stony. Quil was nowhere to be seen. Her mind was numbingly blank as they approached her aunt's car, the only noise being Joy's shaky breaths.
It became apparent the woman was in no condition to drive, and Lucy slid into the driver's seat instead. Her body was robotic, eyes unblinkingly staring ahead as she put the keys in and drove. Her brain was in overdrive, and it was hard to comprehend what was going on. She saw the man only days ago. And now – and now... her best friends lost their father. Her mom's best friend lost her husband. He died. He was gone.
There was already an abundance of cars parked outside the Clearwater house. Lucy haphazardly pulled into a spot close by, and the three occupants filed out slowly. The girl had to take a moment to inhale a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly. Her chest was constricting painfully, like a hand was gripping it tighter and tighter, steel bands compressing.
It was Old Quil who led their small procession into the house, expression hard. The front door was open, and people were cramped practically everywhere. The atmosphere was gloomy, settling over the teenager like a veil of darkness.
Instantly, her eyes found the slumped figure of Sue Clearwater on the couch. She was surrounded by a group of women, all softly conversing to each other. Lucy recognised some of them. Sue herself was leaning heavily on one of the women, hands clenched, bloodshot eyes staring vacantly at her hands.
