My Path

Grieving

TW! Implication of described SA/Rape. Nothing graphic but please read with caution.

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The atmosphere surrounding the cabin felt oppressive and heavy in the wake of Ellie's death. You all attempted to go about your business as normal, completing tasks mechanically with no real thought or purpose, but reminders of the tragedy came in waves, knocking people off course. 

You had almost forgotten what it felt like. To lose someone. It wasn't like you and Ellie had been particularly close, but your final conversation with her echoed in your mind in quiet moments, distracting you from your tasks. It left you breathless, pulling you back to memories where her strength and kindness had shone so brightly that people had no choice but to stop and listen to her.

It had been a long time since you had lost anyone. You left groups too quickly to get attached and the choking, roiling pit in your stomach was reminding you why. It was easier to brave the emptiness that came with being alone than enduring the savage, raw intensity of grief.

But you couldn't cut and run now, even if it was the simplest option. You didn't think you would be capable of squashing the guilt that came with abandoning these people. Especially when you had proven yourself to be invaluable in the last few days.

Nick had become a hollow shell of himself. You had always found him to be quiet and withdrawn but he had become almost entirely mute since the incident. He didn't eat for three whole days and only surrendered and forced food down his throat after Luke threatened to do it himself.

He took himself to the oak tree Ellie was buried under every evening, lying on the grass and staring at the sky with vacant eyes. He would tense up if anyone came close or attempted to speak to him and would only relax again if they left him alone. He would lay there for hours, silent and unmoving and when he came inside he never said a word, simply going upstairs and repeating the cycle in the morning.

You weren't sure if he had spoken to Pete at all after they had clung to each other, grieving the loss of Ellie with a shared perspective that nobody else in the group could understand. It didn't seem likely. Part of you wondered if Nick had even noticed Pete was there. He didn't notice much these days.

Nobody dared to mention Marshall. His disastrous fate had impacted everyone heavily and you didn't feel comfortable dwelling on the thought of him. You felt simultaneously guilty over treating him so harshly but also furious about how you were right about his bite. He had been buried near the river, far , far away from Ellie. You hoped the memory of him would fade sooner rather than later.

For his part, Pete was attempting to go about life as normal. He resumed daily duties the day after his sister's death and never once spoke about what happened. Luke had tried, but Pete had firmly told him to let it be and Luke eventually dropped the subject. 

You had thought Pete's reaction strange and figured that the loss hadn't really sunk in yet until, one night, walking past his room, you heard devastated, muffled sobs.

You didn't want to insult him by bringing it up. You were aware he was a traditional man and you were worried he would view you hearing him grieve as a sign of weakness. You felt it was best to leave him to mourn in his own way and in his own time. You also were fully aware you were not the most comforting of people. Years spent flitting from place to place had severely damaged your social skills, especially when it came to delicate situations such as grief.

Every evening when Nick lay by his mothers grave, Pete would watch from the window diligently until he came back inside. You could sometimes hear him muttering under his breath about Nick being reckless and getting himself killed by staying outside but Pete never took it upon himself to go  out and bring him inside. Instead, Pete watched over him, holding a rifle, ready for the worst.