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CALISTA SAVAS
No one really talks about the days following someone's death.
How you feel, what you see. How you act, how others act towards you.
How others pity you and how they only leave a countless amount of 'sorrys' to fill the void. They do a convincing job of making you believe that they cared.
Did some of them? Maybe.
Perhaps only the ones that knew how you felt. For Calista, she knew how Carl felt. To some degree, at least. She had lost loved ones.
Her father. Her mother. Her sister.
She assumed probably more that she didn't know of, but those were different. She didn't watch those people get ripped into pieces without being able to do a thing about it.
Poor Ella. She had been too fragile for this world. After that inevitable day, Calista wasn't quite sure of what had been worse. The shock, or the guilt.
The endless grief.
Had it been Calista's fault?
A question that she had considered to be rhetorical. The immediate answer had always been yes, but was the set answer the right one? Maybe she had been too broken to know the difference.
Perhaps she just assumed that she would have more time with her family, or what was left of it. Calista had once thought of grief as emptiness. A vacant feeling in your heart. But she soon discovered that it was a brimful feeling. There was no emptiness, just a weight to fill the void. A weight that pulls you down — a weight that drags behind you everywhere you go.
The weight lightens as time goes on, but it never truly disappears.
She had guessed that's how Carl had felt. He wouldn't speak, which was anticipated. Calista didn't speak for what felt like months after she had witnessed her world go quiet.
Not that she had anyone to talk to.
The funny thing about grief is that it doesn't kill you — it doesn't make you stronger either. It scars your heart, like a stain almost.
Poor Carl. Another stain to his heart.
Another stain added to his fair collection of them. Just another reminder of what happened to him, who he lost.
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FLASHBACK
"Can we stop for a bit?" Calista's mother had asked, enduring shortness of breath. Calista's father turned, a cross expression painted on his face.
