❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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"How have you dealt with her death?" Isabella asked curiously. Shane had stopped crying a while ago and now only the reoccurring empty silence remained. But she couldn't help but wonder if there was a right way to grieve. Was there some sort of way that was superior to others? Some way that didn't have to be so painful? Was there a way to look back at old photographs and not feel that sickening storm in her stomach? What if there was some sort of way to unlink grief from pain permanently, a sort of way that glorified the dead without causing onlookers pain from looking at such bright a light. She wasn't sure if it existed but, if it did, she wanted to know it. Because, recently, she had been cheating herself. She had refused to really think about the past and the emotions that it held, more stating it fact by fact. Especially on her blog. She wrote about the events. Spoke about them. And yet she couldn't quite connect the emotion to it. It was almost robotic. And that scared her. Because she shouldn't feel that way, should she? Surely there was something wrong with her.
Shane just chuckled darkly in response, bumping his shoulder with hers as he nodded his head up towards the sky. "When she died, she said that she would always be watching me. And I can't help but hope that she's up there somewhere, watching over me just like she promised she would." It wasn't really an answer to her question, and she had a feeling he knew that. But, then again, it kind of was. In a way.
"Do you think it would be better if they were really watching over us?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, a soft sound carried away by the passing breeze.
Shane hadn't moved his gaze from the sky. "Maybe." He let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "But then again, maybe not. I...I sort of fell apart when she...when she left. And, I've done things that I'm not proud of. Some things that I really wish she hadn't seen. If she's watching. But...but when I feel like that...I remember. I remember her. And I know...somehow, that she'd forgive me. That she'd...that she'd understand. And...and that really sucks because...the only person I want to talk to about her death is...is her."
Isabella followed his gaze towards the stars and tried to imagine all her loved ones as swirling balls of fire, looking down on her every move. It was as comforting as it was scary. Maybe it would make it all worse. If they were watching. That...that they could see her and her not to see them.
Shane continued to speak. "But sometimes...sometimes I really wish she is watching. Because...because of things like Never Alone Helpline. She would have really, really liked that. And...and even though she's not here anymore, it still feels good to do something that would make her proud. So maybe...maybe it's best to live like they are watching over you. Like...like...live like they would want you to but not...not so much that it takes over your life."
Isabella laughed at the wisdom in his words, finding that his dark brown eyes were staring straight back into hers. "Have you been taking your own advice recently?"
One corner of his mouth pulled up at the side, and a deep rumble vibrated in his chest. "It's a lot harder than it looks."
"You're telling me." And then they were both laughing.
