eighteen » l.h

E P I L O G U E

Life was hard after the tragic death of the crazy, madly in love couple.

Ashton and Michael proceeded with their relationship, with a lot of struggles, of course. Both of them couldn't accept the fact that their best friend, one of the only ones who fully conprehended their struggles and self conflicts, passed away. The tragic event was a heavy weight on them, it being a problem to one which resulted in an infinite amount of tears and continual feelings of sadness, while the other struggle to keep composure and strength. They were both weak, unable to do anything except grieve in the loss of their best friend but they eventually got through it. Twenty four months later, that is.

Assuming and accepting that Ashton and Michael's situation was bad was completely out of hand. The other best friend, the once lover of Estelle, the once closest friend, the witness of the incident, was exceptionally out of hand. It was so bad, it got to the point where he was forced by his sudden, caring and loving family, to attend a mental institution. Permanently.

The permanent settlement seemingly made things worse for him, thus leading him to his passing away.

He was heart broken, not shattered, broken. He was depressed. He was traumatized. He was weak. It was obvious to one's eye, he was quite "deranged", as some reporting interviews described in their articles. His sad, non - lasting love story, was everywhere.

The reporters picked and prodded at him, wanting nothing but to obtain and personally hear the catastrophic story. This provoked him. He was continually getting asked what happened and how it happened and why. He was never asked if he was okay. In fact, he was from okay but of course, being a reporter who's job depended on writing an "essential" and "exquisite" article to keep their job, never cared for the actual victim's feelings'.

Calum was devasted, at first. He laid on the small twin bed all day, a rainfall of tears falling from his eyes when he wasn't scheduled to meet up with a therapist. He would sit up on the bed, lean against the plastered wall, peek out the shades and window, and write. But of course, being a primary source and all, he couldn't take it. The rainfall came to an end, no rainbow to appear at all. His bed wasn't a comfortable or reliable source for him, the corner was. The sunshine seeping in through the window would normally bring a sense of life to someone, a sense light for someome that was going through an incredibly bad time. Not for Calum. Instead, it brought him unwanted sweet and appalling memories. "She was the sun, shining brightly as she hung up in the sky. Her radiancy was contagiously attractive, one could not pass by without seeing it." Calum wrote in the journal that was provided as a way of comfort from the therapists. "She brought something to me, something I never once thought I had. She brought me complete, utterly, and genuine happiness even if was just for a short time period," He stated to the one and only reporter who actually took things slow with him, giving him the time he needed instead of prodding him. "She was the sun, she was my life."

Peaking out the window and seeing the sun high up in the sky hurt him. Every time he attempted even the slightest bit to quickly gaze out into the bright blue skies, he would wince and physically feel the sun's rays' burning his skin. "The sun was here, shining brightly up in the sky but she wasn't."

Eventually, everything came to an end. The hour long sessions didn't help. The journal didn't help. The medications didn't help. His dreams, the reporters, his hallucinations, his thoughts, they all lead him to his death.

The two best friends, Ashton and Michael, soon ended their relationship. They wouldn't admit it, but the loss of their two best friends was way too much of a heavy weight for them. They couldn't muster up the right amount of strength to comfort one another. They were weak, but held onto their own lives - well, for dear life.