𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

TWENTY-NINE| the process of grief

JOHN B. once said that the Pogues didn't know what it was like to have the person closest to you vanish with no clue on what had happened.

Well, now Eden Bexley did. She really fucking did.

It had been a few weeks since everything went down. Since Sheriff Peterkin was shot dead by Rafe Cameron on his family's tarmac. Since John Booker Routledge was blamed for the murder, and was forced to flee the island. Since Sarah Cameron and John Booker Routledge were presumed "lost at sea" with no further investigation.

Since Eden lost her best friend to the closed and privileged minds of the OBX.

How has Eden been doing since everything happened, you may ask? Pretty fucking terrible.

Dr. Fraser said she was just in the process of grieving—that her mind was still in denial. That eventually, she'd learn to accept what had happened, and would start looking towards the brighter horizon of the future instead of sitting in the murky puddle of the past, (of guilt and denial) she'd been stuck in ever since Interim Deputy Shoupe—as he was now titled—revealed John B. and Sarah's death.

Dr. Vanessa Fraser was Eden's new therapist.

It had been her parents idea. After a day full of crying, curling up in her bedroom, and staring aimlessly at her photo wall—which was filled to the brim with photos of her and John B.—Isla signed her up for grief counseling. She knew she had to get Eden some sort of help before the school year started, or else the girl would never figure out how to move past the tragedy, and continue on with her life. 

Eden went to the appointments, but isn't entirely sure Dr. Fraser's questions and grief journals have done much help. Sure, her office is a space where she can express all her emotions in private for an hour and thirty minutes a week, but the Bexley didn't need that. 

She doesn't need help with her emotions, or her grieving. She doesn't need to be told things are going to get better—they won't, for a long while at least. She doesn't need a journal to write down her feelings, or advice on how to not feel that way.

She just needs her best friend back.

"Eden, are you listening?" 

The sudden voice of her therapist takes the Bexley girl from her thoughts. She was in a session. Eden's gaze moves from the empty white walls of Dr. Fraser's office and back towards the woman, though she doesn't quite meet the woman's eyes.

"Sorry." Eden apologizes. She's not really sorry.

"No worries." Dr. Fraser clicks her pen. "Now, as we were. How has this week been? Any new emotions or feelings you've written down, or would like to discuss? Feeling better or worse?" Vanessa always poured all of her questions out at once and let Eden answer the ones she felt like answering at that given moment—the Bexley appreciated that.

"Um....." The Bexley re-evaluates the questions in her head.

How has her week been? It's been okay. Nothing interesting. Her week usually revolved around the same few tasks—crying, sitting within her bedroom silently, and texting her friends to make sure they were okay. Despite being broken herself, the girls motherly instincts stayed in-tact.

Any new feelings or emotions you've written down or would like to discuss? No. Nothing other than the usual emptiness that had been filling her up since she heard the news.

Feeling better or worse? She doesn't know. She doesn't feel better about the situation, nor does she feel worse.  She's merely okay.

After a moment, she says, "I went paddle boarding with Kiara."