Aiden
Sixth hour is meaningless. School is meaningless. Life is meaningless. I go through the rest of the afternoon in a haze. Unable to see the world around me. Unable to care if I did. After the final bell, kids wash around me as I spy on Bree heading for her car. Some kids nod at me and say hi. My popularity at school is still intact. My run for student class president still a possibility.
And I don't give a damn.
Bree slows. She twists around and locks her eyes on me. I don't blink. I don't look away. I stare right through her, as if my eyes could hold her in place and prevent her from leaving. Maybe they could even coax her back and make her change her mind. But Bree rips away from my stare and sprints to her car in seconds. The engine revs, and she drives off. Leaving me.
"What did she do?" Pamela asks, her voice behind me. She must have been watching.
"Nothing," I lie.
"Did you break it off with her?"
I don't want to talk to Pamela now.
"Did she break it off?" she asks.
"Leave me alone." I head off to the student parking lot.
Pamela trails behind me. "It's for the best, Aiden."
I ignore her.
The house is quiet when I get home. Dad is at work. The red stain of Issy's blood won't come out of the carpet no matter how many times Dad tries to clean it. The stain reminds me of death. Pamela reminds me of death. The shotgun that hangs above the fireplace reminds me of death. The long, metal shotgun shells feel cold and smooth in my hand. I swore to myself that I would use the shotgun next time.
But that was before Bree saved me. Before her light shined in my life. A light that gave me hope and a reason to hold on tight to life. Now that rope I held on to has vaporized.
Rope.
Now even thinking about Bree reminds me of death.
I drift off to my bedroom, lie on my bed, and think. I did this very same thing that night in August. That night I was in the forest with the yellow rope. That night I thought about Pamela, thinking about how I couldn't go on like this. Tonight the feeling's worse.
Before, I fell in love with the idea of Pamela. The idea that she projects to everyone at school. I didn't know the real Pamela when I told her my feelings that day.
But with Bree I fell in love with the girl I found hiding inside. The inside I had to dig out to find. It's a feeling that buried itself inside my chest, becoming a part of me that's hard to rip out. How can I forget her now? How can I pretend that the last seven wonderful months didn't happen? The warmth I felt in my gut every time I was near her. The warmth of her body against my body. Our long walks in the forest when we would talk about everything. I should have told her about Dad. If I had explained things to Bree, maybe she wouldn't have freaked out.
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours.
Thinking.
The sky chokes off the sun. The dying embers of light fade from the window. A blackness consumes the furniture in my room. A blackness I live in. I don't turn on a light. I don't change clothes. I don't even get under the covers. What's the point? Who cares about sleep? Who cares what time it is? Who cares about tomorrow?
Meaningless.
Everything is meaningless now.