Sup, mah peeps!

I posted this on a short story contest, which I won. So I thought I'd share it with you people.

It's based on a song you like, so I chose "Like you" By Evanescence. Enjoy!

Like you

Rain droplets slide down my window, racing each other down the glass. My eyes feel rigid while I watch them, like I can’t move or I’ll break apart. 

She can’t be gone.

I can’t cry. All I feel is a deep ache penetrating all of my being. The sun comes out, smiling down at the wet world, though rain still sparkles; falling to the ground. 

I hate it.

I hate all of it. 

Everything.

Including me.

The pain drives me to crush my fist closed. 

They told me at school. Showed up in my classroom. The sympathy from my classmates was agonizing. 

Though it’s been weeks, I still feel it sharply. 

I still can’t believe them.

I wish I was with her. I wish it had been me. Why couldn’t it have been me? 

She’s my sister; I’m supposed to protect her. I was supposed to protect her.

I creep down the stairs. Mom is talking on the phone. Not in her usual light tone. Everything is darker now. 

My brother is sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. Tears slide down his cheeks. He doesn’t see me. 

I step outside and raindrops drop on me, beading on my skin. 

Get off me.

I open the door of my car. Slam the door when I’m in. Start it.

Speed down the driveway.

Where are you going? My thoughts spit at me. You can’t help her now. 

No, I can’t.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. 

The tires are making a hissing noise with the wet pavement.

I slow down. Turn into the laneway.

The sign glares at me. 

St. Edmund Cemetery.

I stop the car. 

I can’t bear it I can’t bear it I can’t bear it. 

I open the door. 

The damp grass is cold on my bare feet. My tank top clings wetly to my back, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. 

I take little steps. 

Past Gravestones of lost loves. 

Past flowers flecked with droplets, like tears of the ones who placed them.

Till I come to it.

Her grave. 

Her last resting place. 

I read the epitaph.

Stay low, soft, dark and dreamless, far beneath nightmares and loneliness.

I lay down; the new grass of her grave brushes my cheek, resembling the way her little fingers once did. 

I weep. 

I weep till I gasp, and there’s no more.

I can see her. 

This isn’t her grave. She’s still here. 

She remembers me. 

She’ll wait for me.

Someday I’ll see her again. 

But till then I’ll be beside her. Not in flesh, but in thought.

I’m right here.


~Love, The Paina