Chasing the Stars

Gone!

No, no, No! She isn't dead. She can't be dead.

"Wake up! Please! Don't be dead. Wake up." I chanted. "You can't be dead." I was shaking her, but all that was happening was blood, blood everywhere, and her eyes stayed lifeless, her limbs stayed limp, and her chest stopped moving.

All of a sudden there were arms on me, pulling me off her, as I scrambled just try and hold her. I heard more screaming, more crying, but it didn't matter. She was dead and there was no coming back. I wasn't like the soldiers out in war. I can't deal with another body, another life taken unfairly.

Once calmness swept over me, I saw who the others were. There was Evan, crying, rocking Luke in his arms, his crutches lying haphazardly across the field. Susan was walking through the meadow, picking flowers and bringing them back to place on Carmilla's body. As I looked down at her again, she didn't seem, as well, dead as before; her eyes and mouth were closed, and the blood had been covered with flowers of all kinds, pink, and yellow and orange. She didn't look dead; now she was just asleep soon to wake up and grace us with her company. I took her long, dark hair and slowly started braiding it down the drape of her neck. Susan sat down beside me and started placing her freshly picked flowers in the creases of the braid. She seemed so calm, as if her best friend's death didn't affect her at all, while I was still crying over someone I'd known for less than a week.

"You're wondering why I'm not crying aren't you?" she said, keeping her eyes on the task at hand. I nodded, although she wasn't looking.

"I've learned that you achieve nothing in grief, except acceptance of death, but if you can find the acceptance of death without the grief then you save yourself from a lot of pain. I've been through grief and I've promised myself to never be that vulnerable again."

We sat in silence, as I braided and she added the flowers. I feel bad about picking all of these flowers, ripping them from their life, but maybe they have died now, but they have lived to their highest potential; making someone happy. If you could choose to stay immortal but never achieve anything, or achieve everything you're destined for, but die right after, what would you choose?

"Is it true Lizzy did this?"

At the mention of her name something flared up inside me.

"Where is she?" I bellowed, shooting to my feet.

"She left." Susan declared.

Wrath frenzied through me.

"She left. She can't get away with this. She can't get away with murder." I cried. I started shaking again. "How could she do that? I thought she was my friend?" Warm arms wrapped around me, hugging me, holding me tight, it made me think of Carmilla.

I shiver, thinking how easy it is to be completely wrong about people, to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole. Susan isn't heartless. Lizzy isn't full of love. Carmilla and Evan aren't indestructible. Luke, poor Luke.

"You know, it's my fault she killed her." I heard Susan say, "She asked me to teach her how to use a gun. I thought it was because she didn't want to feel helpless. I didn't know she had this planned."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know any better. She would have found a way to kill her without your help as well."

We all sat in silence around her lifeless corpse.

My bag was packed, and I was ready to go. My hand reached to my neck to feel the presence of my necklace, just to come up with nothing. She flashed in front of me, her hair and the flowers, and my necklace around her pale neck, as the ground slowly enveloped her, black hair mixing with dark earth.

I silently made my way over to where the others were sitting.

"I'm leaving now." I uttered, hands shaking.

"You sure about this?" Evan questioned, "We'll help you find your family."

"It's okay. The walk there is less than a day, and I think I need some time to myself." Was I doing the right thing? This fight in my mind was killing me. What if I don't find my family, then I have no one? But if I go with them, I'm just wasting their time and what happens if I decide not to go home? If I don't leave now, I don't know if I will ever.

Carmilla's gone, Nico's gone, now I'm going.

"Goodbye!" I say, turning around and walking away.

I told myself not to look back, but I do, and I see glimpses of hugs, and the flowers over the grave.

Am I strong enough for these goodbyes?