Kylie and Julian: Till Death or Eternity?

Chap. 2

"I'm gonna go order Chinese food," Scarlett informs as she walks towards the kitchen with the shopping bags in her hands.

I nod and take a seat on the long sectional couch after grabbing my phone from the pocket of my hoodie.

"So," she says, stepping out of the modular kitchen with a sigh. "About earlier..."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just wasn't feeling well," I tell her, running my hand down my face after letting out an exhausted sigh. I have to figure out what's wrong with me. I'm still processing what happened thirty minutes ago and I can't help but feel scared. What if it happens again when I'm alone? I can't drive myself back home, I can't risk it.

I make a mental note to call my doctor later today. I need to know what's going on and I truly hope it's nothing serious.

"Kylie," Scarlett breathes, her voice quieter. She takes a seat across from me on the couch and rests her hands on her thighs. She takes a few seconds to finally utter. "Don't you think that maybe you should start looking for someone?"

"Someone?" I ask, confused.

"For help," she explains and my eyes instantly rise to meet hers.

"What kind of help?" I frown.

"Maybe..." She pauses, seeming as if she's trying to think of the right words to say. "Maybe you should see a therapist?"

"A therapist?" I raise my brows, convincing myself that this is all just a joke.

"I mean, don't you think?"

I open my mouth to argue but she quickly adds. "I'm simply suggesting this because we feel like..."

"We?"

"Mia and Ethan," she hesitatingly reveals. "It's just...we hate to see you this way."

"What way?" I ask as I stand up to pace.

"So closed off. So distant. It's like you're here but you're not here. Whenever I look at your face I don't see the Kylie I know. I just see someone who's trying to pretend that everything in her life is okay when it clearly isn't. You can't ignore the fact that you witnessed the death of the one person who meant everything to you."

"You don't think I know that?" I snarl, throwing my head back and trying my best not to let tears fall.

"See? You're doing it again, closing off."

"Then what do you want me to do?" I snap, looking back at her with a foggy vision. I let tears fall and bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a sob from escaping. "To cry every time I feel sad or overwhelmed? How would that work exactly? I'd basically be crying all the damn time because I feel sad all the damn time!"

By now my voice is more than cracked. I let out the sob I'd been holding for almost 24 hours and fall onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. Soon after, I feel my best friend's hands on my trembling shoulders. I look up at her with a blurry vision, trying to control my embarrassing sobs.

"It's okay," she soothes, squeezing my shoulders as she places her knees on the carpeted floor. Her voice is soft and caring, almost as if she knows exactly how I feel inside.

I don't think people know exactly how I feel inside. They can try to imagine it, but I'm not sure they'll completely understand it. Because not even I understand it.

Other than feeling depressed, I feel empty. I feel an emotional void. I feel lost and alone even though I'm surrounded by love. I feel repugnance and anger towards my broth... towards the person who murdered him, and I always try my hardest to ignore the overwhelming enragement that's inside me, but every time I look at my reflection in the mirror and see how different I look — thinner, pale and most of all exhausted —, I fail.