How hard could it be? • LM / SS

Chapter 89

                      "And I'll be in denial,
                    for at least a little while."

Jade rolled over on her side, staring blankly at the wardrobe in front of her. There was a glass of water that was left untouched on her bed side locker and a slice of toast. Someone must have came in this morning and left it there, the pills from last night all gone up as well. The bottle and anything else she could have hurt herself with must have been taken out of her room when she was asleep.

She had been awake for the last three hours, the bright light of dawn shining through the gaps in her curtains. She had been doing nothing but feeling numb and scrolling through the album she had created on her gallery, full of thousands of photos of her and Allison. The frame from last night was still discarded on the pillow beside her, the pictures blurry from the tears that had been shed. The doorbell rang, but she didn't make a move to answer it.

Max put down his phone, thankful for whoever was at the door. Their house had been silent, but not in a good way. It clouded their judgement, making all the residents feel as if they were being drowned in grief. As if no one would throw them a rope to reel them in from the water. He had been scrolling through the remembrance posts that people had put up on various social media platforms.

An anger that he had never felt before began to bubble in his chest, over the fact that half of the people who were posting hadn't even talked to Allison once in her life. God, half of the people didn't even have a nice word to say about them, and made their life a living hell when they found out about Kate! The truth was that people never cared until you were dead. And you could sugar coat is as much as you liked, but it didn't change that it was the truth.

He let his hand rest on the doorframe as he blinked stupidly at the girl standing in front of him. Malia Tate was staring back at him, a brow raised in a mixture of confusion and anxiousness. She looked so much different than when he had seen her last, when the group of them turned her back to a human.

She had gotten highlights in her hair, a lighter brown flowing throughout the curls. He couldn't really see her face, as her hair fell down her forehead and into her eyes like a curtain, almost as if she wanted to be hidden. Her eyes were back to their usual brown rather than blue and she was trying to smile in what was an attempt at a friendly manner. Her features had brightened up though, and she looked a lot healthier.

"Hi," she said, looking up at the number twelve on the door. She was sure she had the right house. This was where she'd visited it last, anyway. "You're Max, right? It's Malia."

Max regained his composure, getting over the initial shock. But that didn't put him at ease, because there was still the question about why she was here. "Yeah, I'm Max." He cringed, biting his tongue. He wasn't good at making small talk, but he assumed that it would be rude if he just straight up asked what she wanted.

Malia cleared her throat, not understanding if he was joking or not. So, instead she shook around the contents of the small plastic container in her hand. "Uh- my dad said that when someone dies or something bad happens that it's polite to bring over food. So, I made cookies. They might not be nice though, I think added salt instead of sugar."

Max laughed, knowing that she was serious, but still finding it sweet. Besides, it was the thought that counted. He took the container out of her outstretched hands, smiling in thanks.

A horn beeped from outside, Malia casting a look behind her shoulder and rolling her eyes at how impatient her dad was. Stepping off the porch step, she fixed the stray pieces of hair that had blown around, thanks to the wind. "I've got to go. Sorry about your friend and the raw cookies." She waved a hand awkwardly by her side before rushing down the driveway, rubbing her temple in embarrassment. God, why was this so difficult?