House Number 1402

You Look Like A Blue Gum Drop

My stomach had been emptied at least twenty times over the last week. Anytime I thought about Ken I would vomit. Every single time I went outside I would smell smoke in the air, even when it wasn't there, and I would hurl up everything I had eaten that day. It was horrible. My body was rejecting the fact that my best friend was gone. I couldn't eat anything and I usually couldn't be bothered to get out of bed. Jackson went from checking on me every hour to every few minutes, then he finally just came in and laid down with me.  

"You have to get up today," Jackson whispered in my ear from behind me.  

My room was barely lit by the slowly rising sun. I stared straight ahead as I had for the last few hours, looking out the window but seeing nothing. I knew I had to get up because it was the day that the pack was going to honor all those lost in the fight.  

I knew I needed to get out of my own head, or at least try to deal with the loss of my best friend. I wanted to be stronger, but it just wasn't in me. Maybe if I had had more time with everything it would have been easier, but I had little to no time. I had only just found out about the magical world of shifters and that Ken was a part of it. It all came on so sudden and blew up just as quick.  

I wasn't the only one in mourning, but I was one of the worst. There were a few mates left behind that were just as distraught as I was. Especially Andy, Ken's mate. I had seen him once, he came by to make sure that I was ok. He looked so horrible; cheeks sunken in, eyes red and puffy, skin pale, and hair a mess. I wanted to comfort him and tell him that everything would be ok, but I couldn't. How could I say that to someone else when I wasn't even sure that I believed it myself?  

Jackson would check on Andy in-between checking on me, and then tell me how he was. Apparently he would be fine in a few months when the mate bond was fully broken. He would never have a mate again, but the pain from the bond breaking would eventually fade and he would be able to fall in love again. That was nice to hear, that was the silver lining for him. He would always love Ken, but he would not end up a lost cause, he would love again and be fine.  

I knew that I would be fine too. I would eventually pick myself up and dust off my depression. I would never forget Ken, but I would move past the loss of her. I wanted to be there, in that place where it was just a painful memory, but I couldn't get there. I couldn't find my happy medium, not just yet. I was hoping that the memorial would help me get there. I had already told myself that I would no longer lay in my bed, swimming in my own pool of pity. I had decided that after the memorial I would force myself to get up and move, that I would no longer lay in bed and cry. I allowed myself to be pitiful for long enough.  

Jackson began to rub his hand up and down my arm, while placing small kisses on my bare shoulder, "I can help you get ready," he whispered in a seductive tone. 

I gave a small laugh, "I think I can get ready on my own." 

I felt him shrug behind me, "No one said you couldn't." 

I was in my best moods when he was around. Even if I wanted to pout and cry all day, I couldn't when he was in the room. He made me undeniably happy, I couldn't have fought it even if I wanted to. 

I nudged Jackson back with my elbow, "Down boy," I laughed.  

I carefully climbed out of my bed and made my way to the closet. I had picked out a ridiculously bright blue sundress for the memorial. I knew it was more politically correct to wear black, but Ken hated black. She wore outrageously bright colors all the time, I don't even think the girl owned black socks. I wasn't sure how everyone would take it, but I didn't really care.  

I wasn't there to mourn the loss of anyone but Ken, as horrible as that sounds. I didn't know any of the other victims, I didn't have any sort of connection to them. Of course I felt bad for their friends and family, but I wouldn't be able to fake concern for people I didn't even know. I would cry for all the loss that night, but I was mainly crying for my own loss. It was selfish, but it's just how I am.