▲ Chapter 26 || Sophie ▲
Not gonna lie, I cried when I was writing this. Maybe because Bronte is my bae and I made her, or because I can relate to her and the way that she thinks and feels about things (Not that anything like this has happened to me). You might not cry, maybe it's just me, so don't expect to get as emotional as me lol. Play the attached song while reading it. It's called 'Perfect' by Hedley.
The things that Bronte says in this chapter show you how her beliefs and the way she thinks have been formed. If you were to ever re-read this book and see what she was like at the start of this novel up until now, you would see how her past has made her think and act, you know?
I still don't know if I'm happy with this chapter, but I guess I will find out soon. I know you guys were looking forward to it, which is very nice to hear but also very fucking scary cause I don't want to disappoint.
Also, read this when you are in the time and place where you can really connect to the book, because I don't trust my writing skills enough to make you emotional hahahaha.
Okay. Enough from me.
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*Spoiler Warning.*
*Trigger Warning: Mention of suicide.*
No one knows of my tribulations in middle school besides my parents and Elle. I had planned to keep it that way because I wanted to keep this stuff in the past, but I think it is time I break my silence. I know it isn't healthy to bottle things up like I do, and I know that I tell people to let it out when I don't, so I need to stop being such a hypocrite and finally use my own words of advice.
"As you might know, before I lived in Worthington I lived in Jefferson," I state. Jefferson was a small town a little more than an hour away from Worthington. It was the neighbouring town of Worthington, and I had lived there my whole life up until my final year at middle school. Then, I moved to Worthington just in time for high school. "I always told people that I moved because my parents needed to for work, but that isn't true.
"I know I seem like this overly-chirpy pushover all the time, but once upon a time I wasn't like that at all. I had a bit of attitude and whatever I thought, I would say. Sometimes I kinda miss the old me. Like, I always seem to let people walk all over me now, but back then, the way I treated others and the way I treated myself made me feel confident and happy.
"I had a small, tight group of five friends, and my closest one was Sophie. We went everywhere together and we did everything together," my breath hitches and I clench my hands into fists, shifting in my seat nervously, "Sometimes she had mood swings, which I shrugged off. She never invited me to her home, which I, again, shrugged off. Sometimes she wore jumpers on a hot day..." I trail off and breathe for a moment to calm down. My voice was thick with emotion and I could feel my heart speeding up. "I shrugged off everything strange that she said or did! I'm a freaking idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot," I swallow the lump in my throat.
I could feel Blake's eyes on me but I didn't want to look at him. Shame and guilt kept my gaze fixated on the dashboard of the car. "It's been three years and I still haven't gotten over it. I thought I might move on from it when I moved houses. That's what my parents thought, too, but turns out that's not the case," I exhale a bitter laugh, "Turns out you can't just forget the things that you've done when you move towns."
I watch as the car steers onto the side of the road and Blake cuts the engine, leaving us in complete silence.
"I'm gonna make us really late," I state after a long moment.
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does. I don't want to make you sad. You were in such a good mood."
"Again, it doesn't matter. I want to hear this."
"But-"
"Stop it, Bronte," he interrupts. He sounds agitated, "Not everyone has to be happy all the damn time. You can't always be happy and, if you are, then you'll be sad-"
"Uh-"
"You know what I mean."
"That has nothing to do with your happiness, though," I point out.
"It has something to do with yours, so, yes, it does."
I open my mouth to refute to his argument, but I had nothing to say. He was right. "Okay," I finally nod, "Back to story-time, right?" I joke sarcastically but Blake doesn't laugh so I just continue, "I know that when we first met I was annoying. I know I pushed too much into your business, but you reminded me of her on her down days and I didn't want you to feel sad. I wanted you to be happy. I pry into peoples' business a lot, and I know that. Elle, you, other people that I try to help. Most of them don't mind, but you..."
"I was a jerk," Blake fills in, sighing to himself, "I'm sorry Bronte."
"Why? You already apologised for your behaviour."
"I know, but I'm sorry for how I thought of you. I thought you had no substance. I didn't even consider that you have your own story and your own reasons."
"It doesn't matter anymore," I brush it off, "It's in the past."
"So you can easily brush off the way that I acted and not the way you acted in the past?" he quickly retorts, "You're so quick to forgive others, but not yourself."
"You don't even know what happened yet."
"I can see where it's going though, and it wasn't your fault."
"Yes it was."
"No it wasn't."
"I could've helped her. There were so many signs and sometimes I considered that she might have problems at home, but I never asked."
"It wasn't your fault!"
"Stop saying that. I know my mistakes, so stop telling me that I had no part in her suicide."
"Why do you think like that?" Blake asks, "Why do you put the blame on you and not her parents - or Sophie for not telling you?"
"Don't even start," I snap when he mentions Sophie, "It wasn't her fault. Sometimes it is hard for people to open up about things, so don't tell me that it could in any way be Sophie's fault. You don't understand what she might've felt or experienced - so just don't."
Thick silence creates tension in the car and I sigh, slumping back in the seat. I didn't mean to get so so angry at Blake, I just hate when people blame the victim. Sophie was not at fault. Maybe she could have opened up to me, but we never know what goes on in other peoples' minds. She might've felt helpless or as though she couldn't trust me, so I shouldn't blame it all on her when I know nothing.
"I'm sorry, you're right," Blake mutters.
"My best friend didn't feel like she could talk to me and resorted to committing suicide rather than asking for my help," I feel my eyes cloud up with tears, "I should have been a better friend. I should've just known," I croak, my face contorting into anger and regret, "I could've saved her."
"Bronte don't say that," Blake replies, his voice cracking, "Don't blame yourself, please. I'm sorry it happened, but you are a nice person. You are thoughtful and sweet and you don't deserve the weight you are putting on yourself."
"Don't I, though? Everyone seems to think I do so I must, right?" My vision was blurry and I could feel a sob rising in my throat. I could've helped her.
"What do you mean?" Blake asks, his head snapping to look in my direction. I didn't expect him to react that way.
"Everyone. The police, classmates, school counsellor... my friends in my group," I answer, "After she died, they kept asking me why I didn't do something, why I didn't see that she needed help because I was her best friend. I should've seen something."
"They turned on you?"
"No," I shake my head, "They just kept asking - again and again and again. Everyone did. Did you see something odd in the way Sophie behaved? Were there any signs? Did she tell you anything about her home life? Would she ever open up to you? Did you know what she was going to do?" I close my eyes and try to fight back the sobs, to no avail. "I'm so sorry," I whimper, like Sophie could actually hear me and she was watching me from somewhere.
I wish she could hear me.
I wish she could know that I love her and I would do anything to have her back.
I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders and I know it's Blake. I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. "After everything," I sniffle, "my parents encouraged me to move because they thought a new start would help me heal. So we packed our bags and left my past behind a couple months later.
"When we arrived at my new home, I had this sudden, new determination. I vowed to myself that I would help and care for as many people as I can. I thought it might help me forgive myself, you know? Make up for my past mistakes.
"Then I met Elle. I'm so grateful that I have her. She's helped me move on a lot. She makes me feel secure in our friendship and makes sure that I know what is going on if I'm ever suspicious of her needing help or someone to talk to," I smile to myself. Even though my cheeks were wet with tears and I had just cried my eyes out, I smiled. I love Elle and I'm so lucky to have her as a friend.
"Any-who," I sigh, "I'm sorry that I pried into your business. I hope you understand why now," I sit up and avert my gaze to Blake, but before I can even get a proper look at him, he dives and kisses me. My eyes widen and I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.
But the kiss ends as quickly as it begins, and Blake pulls away from me, his eyes wide, "I'm sorry. That was... I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"I just... I'm not a kin-"
"It's okay, Blake," I cut him short with a laugh, "We can pretend it didn't happen." I know he always regrets kissing me, so I won't make him feel worse.
"Really? Can we?" He looks relieved that I said that, which saddens me a little - actually a lot, I won't lie, "It's not that I regret it, I just... I don't know."
"It's okay," If there's one thing I've gained from middle school, it's my ability to act okay when I'm really not. I grin at Blake, "Let's go now! We're already 15 minutes late!"
A smile forms back onto his face, "You're right," he replies, "George-Well park, here we come."
The car roars to life, and off we go, but as I look out the window, new tears spring to my eyes. Ones that involve Blake never liking me as much as I like him.
"Damn you, feelings," I whisper, only loud enough for myself to hear.
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Just a side note to anyone who is commenting that it is Sophie's fault since she was the one who committed suicide...
Just pause for a moment and remind yourself that there are 7 BILLION people on this earth. 7 BILLION MINDS that all work VERY differently and see things VERY differently, and yet, you've only seen things and interpreted things with YOUR mind (I honestly went through an existential crisis when I realised this, no kidding. This idea fucked me up). Meaning OF 7 BILLION MINDS YOU'VE ONLY EVER THOUGHT AND INTERPRETED THINGS WITH 1 MIND - YOUR OWN MIND. MEANING YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW OTHER PEOPLE THINK OR SEE THINGS.
People who commit suicide aren't usually in a mentally stable state, meaning a big part of the issue is how their minds are working, since depression is usually a mental thing. You can't really make a judgment on these people when you have no idea how their mind works and how they see things.
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