DATE UNKNOWN
YOUR POV:
I can't believe I'm saying this. I don't want to admit this. It's cruel, it's mean, but it might be true. Rita might actually be dying. I can't admit it though, not to myself or anybody else. We all knew it though, deep down, even Rita herself. But, none of us admitted it. Guess it was a sore subject? Not exactly positive, it's just not something we bring up, you know?
But it's there, like the elephant in the room, the one we refuse to actually admit is in said room, because if we can avoid it, we would. Then again, it is a sensitive subject, for everybody, even the people not in this exact situation. But I can't help but overthink. What if we didn't send Rita out that day? What if it was me? What if we chose a different time?
Right now, Rita was laying in the mattress, the same one she had been laying on for days, weeks, weeks on weeks, without any sort of possible end. At some point we should all just say it out loud, she's dying, slowly and painfully. But, then again, how would we know? We're just kids, we're f*cking kids...
We shouldn't have to do any of this. Be caught in a basement, watch as our friend dies, we should be hanging out, having fun, enjoying our childhood, not ruining it with traumatic experiences that really should be one in a million, and if they are, well then why us? It's not fair, why not choose kids like Moose, kids like Matty, Matt, Buzz, why us? We didn't really do anything.
So why us? Why were we the ones chosen to hold these traumatic experiences, which may not last forever, but will be remembered forever. It isn't fair, and it won't ever be fair, and as much as I'll say I'd never wish this on anybody, if it means to save my own life, I'd sacrifice somebody like Moose.
Right now, me and the boys were talking, when Rita seemed to try and get up. That caused Billy to gently push her back down, as he didn't trust her walking or being mobile whatsoever. Billy was pretty protective over her right now, always sitting by her, he also hasn't left that mattress in who the hell knows how long?
"Billy," Rita whispered, her voice almost inaudible by being so raspy. "Let me speak to Y/N...alone.....p-please?" she asked, and he sighed, gave in, and nodded. "Watch her for me, would ya?" he asked me, as I nodded. "Of course.." I smiled, sitting next to her on the bed, that was warm from Billy sitting here every single day.
"What's up?" I asked her, looking down at her waxy complexion. "I want you to p-promise me.." she whispered, and I nodded. "Promise what, Rita?" I asked, and she croaked "w-when I die, take care of Billy. I-I know you're in l-l-love with Robin...b-but please..take c-care of Billy, make sure he's o-okay.."
"I will, I promise" I whispered, tucking her into the blanket, well, carpet, and smiling down on her. "I promise" I said once again, my whole body shook from the horrible situation. Once I stood up, Billy came zooming back, sitting into what was once my seat. It reminds me of just how hard he's going to take her said death. That's what hurts. It is going to be rough, excruciating, agonizing, sitting there and just watching him cry deep sobs of pain and torture. But I'll take care of him, I know I will. Because I promised her.
I promised Rita.
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THE CHILDREN UNDER THE STAIRS- the black phone (on hold)
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