Second Chance

Epilogue: I'll Always be There for You

Epilogue: I’ll Always be There for You

How cliché is this? Ciara wondered as she pulled the car to a stop. It’s raining.

She didn’t bother bringing an umbrella—more like she couldn’t be bothered.

The pitter-patter of the tiny water droplets on her car’s windshield made a dull rhythmic sound. Ciara shut the car door and made her way through the throngs of people

So many people, she thought.

The normally small church felt even smaller. She silently took a seat, picking nonexistent threads off her black skirt. Ciara saw the priest move his lips, but she couldn’t any coherent words. The room suddenly seemed claustrophobic. Ciara stood up, and ignoring the few stares shot at her, she made her way out of the backdoor.

She leaned her head against a pillar, praying that the cold breeze could clear her headache. Moments later, the door swung open.

“Are you okay?”

Ciara turned around and rested her back against the wall. “You came.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “What kind of person did you think I was?”

Ciara tried to lift the tip of her lips. Taylor sighed and faced away from her. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Her legs felt even weaker, and she slumped down, pulling her knees to her chin. The short piece of rock above made a poor shelter. Ciara could already feel the water soaking into her clothes. Frankly, she didn’t care. She was tired of acting and trying to pull herself together in front of friends and families. The constant pitiful looks shot at her were even worse.

Ciara thought her body couldn’t hold any more tears, but before she knew it, tears were falling once again. It was as if Taylor’s words had turned on an invisible emotional tap. She felt Taylor’s arms around her shoulder. She didn’t look up.

“I’m at my limit, Taylor,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “It hurts.”

Waves after waves of excruciating pain would pound at her frail heart. It was pain that cannot be alleviated through any medical pills. She’d wondered if death was so painful. It shouldn’t, right? After all, emotional pain was way worse than physical.

“You wouldn’t want him worrying about you.”

“He’s not there anymore, Taylor,” she choked out.

At a distance, she could make out a small crowd of people and a black coffin. She turned away; she did not want to look.

“I disagree.”

“I’d do anything to change that night.”

“Ciara!”

She gradually raised her head. His voice, for the first time since that evening, was raised. As dizzy as she was, she could make out the anger in his tone perfectly. He removed his arms around her and forced her to look at him.

“Stop. This.”

“Huh?”

He grabbed her wrist and forced her to stand up.

“Taylor, what are you -?”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“This!”

Please don’t be sad.

Ciara shut her eyes, attempting to block out the messy scrawls that were now imprinted in her mind. Her throat constricted, and she bolted up.