My Dead Best Friend

Chapter 1

        I stare at the picture of the beautiful, red-headed girl and attempt to hold back tears. It's not as hard anymore. The pain reminds me of when I broke my leg. I fell from a tree when I was twelve, and my bone snapped. It hurt horribly, but eventually you can't cry anymore. The pain is so constant, so normal, that if you don't focus on it you can appear completely whole.

        The tears over my leg ended after two hours, and now the tears over Abby had ended after two years. It wasn't exactly the same though. I went to the hospital for my leg, and the doctor's fixed everything. My leg had healed; the bones had reconnected. The pieces of my heart would never do the same. No number of grief counselors could put a cast around my heart fusing the pieces back together. You just had to learn how to live with a broken heart; it was like learning to walk on a broken leg forever. Sure you were in constant pain, but you eventually stop wincing and learn to deal with it.

        It was the second anniversary of the day she left us, and we were gathered at her house for the second time. Her family had left two months after. They said something about realizing the importance of family and wanting to stay with Abby's grandparents in Kentucky. I knew the full truth though. They were just sad and couldn't stand to live in that house with those memories for one more day. Her mom couldn't bear to walk in the kitchen where she had smiled and laughed, her dad couldn't stand to see the piano in his office she had practiced on, and her siblings couldn't handle walking past the room where their big sister had killed herself. I knew exactly how they felt. Everywhere I went I could see her there, remember her there. We were inseparable our entire lives until she separated us permanently.

        Staring at her picture killed me, but I couldn't stop. She would never be any older than that. Abby would be a fifteen-year-old, three days away from her sophomore year forever. We would grow and mature and have children and graduate, and she would never turn sixteen. Tomorrow would be Tuesday and the beginning of senior year. Everything was changing and moving, and I couldn't stand the thought of the world forgetting Abby Glover.

        A tap on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts, but it doesn't pull my eyes away from the picture.

        "Hey, Carter." I recognize the voice immediately. It's Parker Kenton. We've been friends for a long time. It's not like he's my best friend, but to be honest I don't have a best friend. After Abby I pushed everyone away. My heart can't handle anything like that again.

        I liked Parker though. He was a nice guy and was good about not saying the wrong things to me which people always seemed to do. For instance, multiple people had come up and asked "how it was going." I know they didn't mean any harm, but that didn't make the desire to punch them in the throat any less prevalent.

        Parker was one of the few people who understood how I felt. We had both always loved Abby, although his feelings were different than mine. Abby was the only person that understood me fully. She was like a sister to me. Parker had always thought the world of Abby and had the biggest crush on her, but I don't think she ever realized it. Even Warren, Abby's boyfriend, never related to me and understood my feelings about Abby and her absence like Parker did.

        Thinking about Warren is enough to get me to look away from her picture and glance around. I see him at the other end of the pool with his feet in the water. His eyes reflect the light of the candles, and they're wide as he stares into the water. Warren has looked broken and angry ever since she's been gone. I'm not sure who's been driven crazier out of Warren, Parker, and me.

        Warren must feel my stare, because he looks up at me. I quickly turn my eyes away. There's a hatred and anger constantly pouring out of him. Any sign of the guy that existed at the beginning of his relationship with Abby is gone. All that's left is a shell.

        "She's so beautiful," Parker says after my extended silence. He understands when I don't speak. He doesn't question it. Parker also uses the present tense to talk about Abby. I like that about him. He talks like she isn't gone. She isn't lost to us. I couldn't think of anything to say. If I started talking about her I would cry and that would be bad. I'm tired of the sympathy of these people. Maybe if it was just Parker, because he gets it unlike just about everyone else.

        I look at the candles lining the pool and the stuffed animals and pictures scattered randomly around. The number of people here almost makes me mad, but I know they cared for her. She loved people, and they loved her even if it didn't compare to the way I felt.

        "I shouldn't be mad at them for being happy, for laughing and being able to smile, but I am," Parker says quietly.

        I nod my head. "Thanks, Parker." I can't say anything else, but he knows what I mean. It's nice to have someone who gets it.

        Things suddenly get brighter. Even though it's a subtle difference, Parker and I spin around quickly. An upstairs light in the house behind us has turned on and my stomach drops. Everyone had collectively become silent and was now staring at the window. A man's face appears, and he doesn't look too pleased. Crap.

        "Everybody move!" Parker yells, taking charge of the situation.

        I get up and turn to him frantically. "Parker, the stuffed animals people brought, the flowers, her pictures. What do I do?"

        Parker shakes his head, "Carter, we don't have time for that. They're coming. We have to go."

        I start shaking my head and try to run to the door where a small teddy bear is sitting. Parker grabs my arm and pulls me away despite my attempts at fighting him.

        "Come on, Carter!" he yells at me.

        Everyone else is already taking off down the road. We couldn't very well drive our cars up here. I manage to grab the picture I've been staring at all night and a small stuffed bunny I think she would've liked. Then I give in to Parker and we take off running.

        I hear shouts from behind us, "Crazy kids! Who do you think you are? You're on private property! What the heck are you doing?"

        I had forgotten how good it feels to be up and running and scared and excited. Grief makes you forget what it feels like to be alive.

        Parker grabs on to the top of his jeep and swings his legs in. While he starts the ignition, I throw the picture and bunny in then climb in after them. As soon as I slam the door behind me, Parker pulls out and takes off. We hear the sirens and see blue lights which cause Parker to immediately take a detour.

        He slows down to the speed limit once he's convinced we're a safe distance away. The adrenaline is gone and the aching feeling in my chest is starting to return. I ignore it and put on my best smile.

        "Ever considered a career in NASCAR, Parker?" I ask.

        Parker's face turns up into a grin. A trace of the humor and happiness he used to have returns in his brown eyes. "Well, they tried to recruit me, but I turned them down. I just can't handle life in the limelight," he says laughing. It isn't the loud, clear laughing he used to do, but it isn't lifeless.

        He turns and parks his jeep in my driveway. I want to thank him, but there's no right way for me to do it. I'm a miserable, emotional wreck, but I do the best I can and hug him. He's slightly shocked which is evident by the way he stiffens up, but he loosens up and hugs me back.

        "We've got to stick together, Carter. You and me. We can't do this alone," he whispers in my ear.

        I nod. "Thanks again, Parker. Thanks for everything."

        We break the hug, and he nods smiling at me as I get out of the jeep. I grab my picture of Abby and the stuffed bunny and walk back to my house. Opening my front door, I wave to Parker and step inside. He waits until the door is completely shut before he pulls out of the driveway. After locking the door, I walk to my room and flick on the lights. I set the picture of Abby on my nightstand and stare at it a little while longer.

        A deep breath gives me the strength to look away and turn off the lights. I climb into bed and hold the little, stuffed bunny close to my chest. The tears start falling and the choking sobs make it impossible to breathe. I clench the stupid, little bunny tighter thinking a broken leg is absolutely nothing compared to this pain.