Stella Rose is a normal 17 year old girl. There's not much about her that isn't normal. She doesn't have a crazy popular girl coming at her. She doesn't have much of a cliche high school movie life. She's just Stella. Stella Rose. But maybe with a l...
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Two weeks later
I wipe under my eyes and brush my hair.
I flatten down my dress in-front of my mirror. I turn to the side and look over my left shoulder into my mirror.
"Let.. me... go"
"Why, Stellie? Scared to catch the Bliss of Chris?" i furrow my eyebrows and scoff.
"When did you come up with that crap?" i struggle and continue to try and get out of his grip.
"Why? You like it?" he whispers in my ear, and i stop moving. "N-no" i stutter with my words. Why does he do this to me? Ughhhhh
"Okay" he says sarcastically. "Everyone does. They just don't want to admit it" he whispers again, and i immediately understand he isn't talking about "The Bliss of Chris"
He moves my hair to the side and i feel his hot breath on my neck. I suck in a deep breath and i kind of forget how to breathe. Why is this happening? I don't understand.
I move my head to the left looking at us in the mirror. My cheeks are flustered as I look at Christopher holding me from behind.
"Stell" he breath outs, and i can't help but melt from his voice. It sounds so perfect and... insert the cringe, but hot.
"Will you?" he whispers and leans closer to my neck and puts his lips to my neck. I clamp my eyes shut and let out a noise-less sigh.
"Will i what?" i ask after a couple of seconds.
I should have admitted it. I did catch the bliss of chris.
Before the tear falls i wipe under my eyes.
I grab a rose from my collection in my room that people have dropped off these past two weeks and grab my phone.
I didn't go to his funeral. If it was my decision, I would have. No matter what.
Claire still has in her mind it's my fault. I mean it is, but my mom also didn't let me go.
His funeral was last week. Many people asked me I wasn't there and just came to the conclusion it was probably too hard. You know what was hard? Hearing Christopher's mother yell at me and tell me it's my fault.
I can't stop replaying that day. 15 days ago, when we found out.
I haven't done anything these last 15 days. I stayed home from school the first week. I went back this last week. It was hard. It still is hard.
Everyone coming to me, telling me that it's okay, and will get better, but they don't know.
They don't know what it's like to hold on to his death because it was your fault. Not getting to tell him that you loved him no matter what. Not getting to do these things that I should have done before this.
