𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 [✓]

18. Stages (2/5)

a n g e r

Twelve days after the funeral

Screams ripped from me, muffling into my pillow. Blistering, white hot rage consumed me, buried me, ripped me apart. Hot tears sunk into my sheets and blurred my vision.

Thoughts and memories threatened me and I just screamed louder, sobs perforating my tone. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Jonah didn't deserve this.

My fingers curled in my pillow and I clawed at it helplessly, scrabbling to hold onto anything stable as I shook with rage and tears. How could I have been so stupid? It was my fault. Everything was my fault. I could have stopped him from leaving. I should've held him longer. I should've come with him. I should've died instead of him.

I wanted to tear the world apart, rip it to shreds, burn it to the ground.

But the world kept spinning and I kept screaming.

***

Seventeen days after the funeral

Today was the first day since he was lowered into the ground that I was back. I couldn't face it before now but I had to now. I owed it to Jonah to visit him. My mom had protested at first, arguing that I should be more stable first. I'd screamed at her too.

My dad was the one who drove me, telling Mom that this could be good for me.

We stopped at a flower shop and I bought a bouquet. I almost screamed at the shop assistant when she asked the occasion. Then she'd seen the devastated look on my face and apologized profusely, giving me a discount for my troubles.

When we got to the graveyard I told my dad to stay in the car, that I needed to do this alone.

I slumped against his headstone, clutching Jonah's hoodie that I'd worn. The smell had already started to fade.

Emptiness swallowed me and I curled against the stone, trying hard to imagine it was Jonah's chest and he was holding me close. Like he used to hold me close during scary movies and thunderstorms and long nights. I could almost believe it before I realized I couldn't hear his heartbeat nor smell his calming scent and the illusion imploded.

I curled over my knees, Jonah's loss hitting me like a physical weight, the place he held in my heart seemed to be ripped away, leaving me sobbing and in back. I slowly rocked back and forth, my sobs getting louder.

"I killed him," I choked out between cries, tears falling like an unstopping rain.

"I could've saved him," I sobbed, the words burning and hurting as I realized the absolute truth in them. Tears cascaded down my cheeks but I could hardly feel them, feel anything. My voice grew and soon I was sobbing so hard I could hardly breathe. "I could've saved him!" Hysteria crept in and I could vaguely feel myself back up into Jonah's headstone, my arms wrapping around myself, could blurrily see my dad jogging towards me through the tears. My voice broke. "I killed my best friend." My dad crouched down next to me. "It's my fault." Dad scooped me up into his arms as he hadn't done in years, carrying me to the car.

"It's my fault."

***

Sorry these last few imagines have been really fucking sad but um... I have smut coming next time to hopefully make up for it :)