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FATE IS FATE.
Eighteen months later, and the Pogues had everything. They sat in front of a crowd as people gushed and fawned over their mere souls, blinking through their amazed gazes at the sight of the teens. They had families, they had lovers, they had money - the group had everything. But was it worth it? No. The answer would always be no, because two people weren't there to celebrate it.
Three weeks after the funeral, the tragedy, the pain, the blonde carrying the weight of the world at her shoulders had finally lived to her name.
She was driving along the road by the coast, phone to ear as she spoke to her friend. Kiara smiled from the other end as the blonde ranted about her day, it having became a daily thing. Kiara knew she was suffering, suffering hard - all her friends did. So, with the blonde's unstable state of mind nagging her every thought, she reinforced the idea of talking. And so, with the blonde ignoring the belief her friend genuinely cared, just talked.
She spoke about her new job at the café by her house, the flowers she'd recently planted in her front yard, and the sky full of stars at night - really speaking about his star she saw at night. Kiara nodded along, enjoying the few moments her blonde friend seemed to forget about his death and focused on those happy moments with herself. Never did she think it would end up this way. Never would she have hoped for it, never at all.
It replayed in her mind constantly, the sudden scream that would haunt her for the rest of her life sounding through the small speaker of her phone as glass smashed and screeches filled the air. She stopped her walking around the backyard of the Chateau, the rest of their friends inside, as her eyes widened and her heart dropped. No, she thought, no. no.
The call never ended as she screamed into the speaker, Kiara's voice flowing inside through the screen door. Her friend's heads picked up in alert, the group following JJ out as they ran towards the sobbing girl. She continued to scream into the silence. Nothing was going through the phone. Renna wasn't talking. She couldn't hear her breathing. She couldn't hear anything - just like the girl lying upside down in the car, whole body bleeding, with broken glass and stones poking through her broken skin. Broken skin, broken heart - no difference. Maybe her death wouldn't make a difference, so she told herself, as she laid in the middle of the road with her car overturned, that everyone would be okay, and her suffering would finally end.
The car that'd driven full-speed into her own hadn't had to pull over. The driver was alone, barely injured, as he got out of the car and ran towards her own. His car had been fine, the one that caused the accident. He hadn't looked as he sped through a stop sign in order to make it to his friends house in time for a party. And yet, that single thought, single mistake, had cost the life of another.
