The Disbanders

Chapter 24: The Aftermath

These past three days have been some of the longest of my life, where the duration between day and night is blurred. In the time that has passed since Evie fell under the ice, none of us have been the same. While the murder scarred us, this is leaving a much bigger hole in our beings.

We've mostly each stayed in bed, despite hardly getting any sleep. While the crying all around is beginning to subside, the sounds of it linger as shadows, presences, throughout the house. Hayden's barely come out of his room since it happened, while the rest of us are generally silent. Any arguments from just days ago are a thing of the past, but truly went on for too long.

The best that I can do is to try and distract my mind, with old memories. While some bring me pain, it feels like nothing compared to what the emotions of reality bring instead. I'm finding that more than ever, my mind takes me back to memories of the hospital visits with Aunt Jessica. At times, I can almost smell the latex gloves that I'd play with, hear the flickering lights or even taste the red licorice from her snack drawer.

It's strange to me how they seem to be happy memories. What confuses me even more is how I'm using memories of my past to cope with my present. It used to be the other way around.

I can't help but feel that I'm being called to something. I wasn't able to save Evie. In a way, I feel exactly like Alexa––responsible. Responsible for her death. I carry that burden, feeling as though I could've made the difference between life and death for Evie if I had more training, if I had the skills of a real doctor. This guilt has been nagging at me more and more as time goes on.

Out here, it's nothing but a pretend role. Despite having saved Hayden, I'm not a real doctor. I'd be lying, though, if I said that I had never wanted that life, even while out here. The worst part is, I can't say a word. I can't tell anyone how I feel, because they won't understand. If anything, it would start the arguments all over again. And I know that none of us can handle that right now.

There's another aspect of guilt that's come into my mind. In a way, I feel like I should've said something about how frustrated Evie was with all of our fighting. Was there maybe something that could've been different, if I had told everyone? Would the fighting have stopped, and this whole thing wouldn't have happened?

Would Evie still be here?

As I lie in bed this morning, reflecting on everything, I hear Will come in through the door.

"How are you?", he asks.

"Fine," I lie. "How are you?"

"Better," he replies. He sits on the bed and looks at me. "What's wrong?", he asks.

"Oh nothing, just....all of this," I reply. "I..." I pause, beginning to think. There is one thought that I can clear my conscience. "I don't know," I start to say.

"What is it?", he asks. I look up at him.

"If I tell you, I don't want you to be mad at me. Because I really can't handle that right now." I can feel my eyes welling up. Will appears blurry in front of me. "I don't want you to freak out, I just need you to hold me and tell me that it wasn't my fault."

"Candice, what's wrong? What are you talking about?", he asks worriedly. Sure enough, I start to cry.

"Evie would...often tell me about how sick she was of the fighting. She did so for weeks. She felt she could trust me because we were on the same side of the argument. It really bothered her." I pause to gasp for air. "I wanted her to trust me. But I should've said something, and it's my fault, and-" Will immediately wraps his arms around me.

"No, no, no, Candice. It is not your fault, at all! We all feel a sense of guilt, but there's nothing you could've done. You were protecting her secret, being a good friend! She had every right to be frustrated and share that with you." I let out a few more tears, before collecting myself. "Why would you think I would freak out at that?"