Hard To Believe

Chapter Eighteen

Rosemary couldn't recall the moment she started crying. She remembered collapsing after the dreaded phone call. She remembered going to her mother, Delilah's funeral. She certainly remembered Mike practically half carrying her, half dragging her back to the car as she screamed to her mother's coffin, shouting her pleas for her to return to where she truly belongs.

She also remembered Davy's grief-stricken, chalk-white face. From what Rosemary had told him two years ago when they were a couple about her mother, he had grown fond of her. Delilah Ackers, he knew, was a lovely woman. Rosemary had once even confessed that she wished she moved in with her instead of her father, Ronald, after they divorced.

And Carol. She was in silent tears the whole time. She had nothing to say, and Rosemary knew that Carol Hays always had something to say. That day, Carol thought of nothing. That day, Carol was not herself, but a person who mourned for someone who she had loved since the day they met.

It was when they were lowering the coffin beneath the earth that Rosemary finally snapped. She jumped to her feet and made to run for the coffin, but Mike was too quick for her. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her back. She thrashed around in his arms, her voice dissolving into fits of cries and screams.

"Shh, Rose, deep breaths." Mike sounded surprisingly calm. "We're right here. You're ok."

"We need to get her out of here," she heard Peter mutter. "It's... it's all too much for her."

They all must have agreed, for Mike carried her out of the cemetery with the other three trailing behind. Rosemary finally stopped her small struggle, her loud, unearthly cries turning into shaky, quiet whimpers against Mike's chest.

"Alright, Rose, it's ok," Mike murmured into her ear. "We're going home. Just let it out, ok?"

And she did. She released all of her pain through her previous screams, sobs, and tears. All that was left were her pitiful whimpers. After that, during their drive back to the pad, she had nothing left to let go of. Through what she had let go of, all that was left inside her was a hollow hole that dug only deeper and wider inside her heart. It was shattering.

She had no will to pick up the pieces.

She had no will to do anything.

***

It had been about two days since the funeral. During those two whole days, Rosemary never left the bedroom. The guys had tried to persuade her into coming out and tried everything to cheer her up, but to no avail.

There was no doubt about it in their minds now. First came the horrifying truth about her and Davy's fathers history. Then out came her father's possessive side, leading her to leave him forever. Davy went and kissed another girl, leaving Rosemary no choice but to break up with him, no matter how much it hurt. Then two years later, she saw him again, making her recall everything they had went through. She saw him again days later. Russell hurt her physically and emotionally and moved on abnormally quickly with another girl. Three boys down that alleyway tried to both take advantage of her and kill her. Now, her mother passed away.

It was a horrible thought. Rosemary, without a mere shadow of a doubt, had reached her breaking point. She was truly broken.

Down in the living room the next day, the boys were in quiet conversation.

"Carol can't even get her out of there," Peter groaned. "If she can't, then what the hell can we do?"

"There isn't much we can do," Mike sighed. "We just have to wait for her to come out when she's ready."