Letters From The Dead

Chapter 7

I blinked, staring at the familiar face for a few moments. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. His brown eyes were wide with shock. His cheeks were pale and his hair was messed up, but he didn’t look anything more than surprised.

The silence didn’t last too long. With me, even the new me, how could it?

“What do you want?” I hissed coldly, drawing myself up to my full height of not-that-tall and crossing my arms. I was immediately going on the defensive. I couldn’t believe it. He’d been listening…how much had he heard?

He didn’t respond to me, just continuing to look at me as if I’d grown tentacles on my face.

“What do you want?!” I snapped, my voice infinitely louder. “What could you possibly want? Come to gloat? Going to tell everyone? Oh my gosh! Halley’s got a dead best friend! Oh my gosh, Halley talks to headstones! Go on, then, go ahead and do it.”

“I…” he tried, and his mouth opened and closed once more. I rolled my eyes impatiently, shifting my weight as I observed him.

 Tyler Hurst. Football player. Douchebag. Popular among women.

Boy I used to have a crush on. Maybe it had been during middle school, but either way.

I wanted to laugh.

Figures. With my life.

Anyone else. Anyone else could have found me.

He didn’t respond. I didn’t think he could. It didn’t mean I was going to be nice.

“Well?” I asked sharply, shifting my weight once more as I tightened my hold around my frame.

“That’s her, no?” He finally asked, his voice a breath of air more than a noise. “That girl you were always with when we were younger.”

“She’s my best friend,” I offered, trying not to wince when I noticed that I used present tense instead of past.

He still seemed speechless and I smiled, trying to keep it normal instead of bitter and hurt. I could tell by his expression that I failed at that. Miserably.

Just like the rest of my life.

“She killed herself,” I continued after some more silence. “And I couldn’t stop her.”

And then I was running, and it didn’t matter that I hated running and I’d not done it since I was in elementary school, I was running as fast as I could. I need to get out of there. It didn’t matter that I’d left my phone on the headstone, though I was sure it would matter in three hours when I needed to listen to music to keep my thoughts drowned out enough to sleep.

I needed to be gone. Get away from that headstone with the horrible picture of Deidre and the gift that I had given to her. I felt stupid, oh so stupid. I shouldn’t have come, and I shouldn’t have given her a gift and I shouldn’t have talked aloud and I shouldn’t have told Tyler anything.