Drowning In River (BoyXBoy)

20. Walking Away

Taylor Penelope Quinn was pronounced dead at 7:06 p.m. November 13, 2015. She was seventeen years old, and died from bulimia. Her esophagus had ruptured. Eric said she still had a pulse when he arrived, and held on for about ten minutes after getting into the ambulance. It was no monumental death. She puked one to many times and then she died. That simple.

But it didn't change the amount of pain writhing in my chest.

That night is still a blur to me. I mainly remember the smell of the hospital as River and I barged through the doors. The sterile smell that I hate so damn much wafted at my nostrils, making me want to puke. Which reminded me of my best friend. Which reminded me she was dead. I then remember me actually puking all over the waiting room, and people scattering in disgust. I'm used to that though. It's been happening a lot lately.

When Eric appeared in front of me, pulling me into a strong embrace engrossed with salty tears and monumental anxious shaking, I remember screaming at the pain in my chest. River tried to calm me, as did Eric, but nothing, and I mean nothing, had ever been this excruciating.

Nate showed up soon after, he also attempted to calm me. Nate, though used to being surrounded by death, did not take Taylor's death lightly. He seemed about as shaken up as me, which only made me more anxious. There were so many tears, so many. It was about as monumental as that night, or what I remember of it, got.

A nurse injected me with some shit that knocked me out, so I woke up at three in the afternoon the next day completely delirious.

"Where's Taylor?" I asked Eric. He said nothing.

"Where's Taylor?" I asked Nate. He also said nothing.

"Where's Taylor?!" I asked Isaac and Logan. They too, replied with silence.

River was asleep in a recliner in my bedroom. I shook him awake. His foggy eyes opened slowly into mine. "Where's Taylor?"

River responded groggily, not with something vulturous, nor with something relieving. He replied simply. "Wherever Blair is."

This took me a moment to understand. Blair, his sister, is dead. I was aware of this. At the reconciliation, the sloth memories of last night consume me. Taylor, my best friend, is dead.

I cried. A week went by, and I don't believe I ever really stopped crying. River never left my side. He never said much, after all, he didn't really know Taylor beyond her bulimic vegan exterior and a movie night in my bed. He never left my side though. He only slept when I slept. And he was always awake before me. Any nightmares I had, he pulled me out. He understood, and did what he could. I appreciated that, I don't think I appreciated it enough though.

By the time the funeral came around, I was numb to the point of oblivion.

River drove me. It was a very silent ride. No music, no words. Just an impenetrable intense quietness. We both wore nice suits. Mine to baggy, his perfect. My hair a mess of oily curls and his slicked back gorgeously to reveal his face. Despite my sorrow, I still marveled at his luminous face structure and bright eyes.

We arrived, the sky looming above us in a pale, depressed grey color. Many people were there, dressed in more depressed color. It pulled at my heart, but more in anger.

So many people, whom of which never even spoke to Taylor at school, surrounded around with sadness on their faces. If she was here, we'd laugh at there pathetic mannerisms. I almost smiled at the thought.

Now, don't get me wrong, Taylor was popular. Everyone knew her name, nodded to her in the halls. She always knew the gossip and she always knew the truth. But, no one really spoke to her. That is people though, they don't have to know you, they only have to know of you.

He parents hugged me, cheeks raw, eyes blood shot. They told me how much they appreciated and admired me, and then moved on to the next person. I reached the casket, and in that moment, I thought I was dying. My throat seemed to close up and I couldn't really breath. The casket open half way, her eyes closed and sunken in. Her skin so pale, and her lips thinned with a light blue coloration. I didn't realize I was heaving until I felt River's hand on my shoulder. I swallowed the anxiety and shrugged him off, suddenly feeling the next step of grief boil in my veins. Anger.

"Don't touch me." I hiss at him. He put a foot of distance between us, and this only angered me more. I look up at him. "Take me home." I tell him, gliding past him. I catch Nate and Eric looking at me with pity, and I felt the need to spit at them. I shake it off and walk to the car, River trailing behind me. I probably should stay. It's my best friend's funeral after all, but she's dead, and funerals are for the living. As the living, I feel I have a choice to be around the dead. Taylor would do the same if it were me.

"Are you okay?" River asks. It takes that to make me realize that I am crying again. I wipe at my eyes and nod my head. "Are you sure you want to leave?" I nod my head, looking out the window. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Then I snap.

"No. Because if I talk about it I will tell you how much I blame you. I could have been there. I could have saved her, but you had to go and try to be a fucking hero and I had to go and save you. She died because you couldn't deny your fucking ego. You realize that? So no, I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you. I didn't know that loving you meant losing my best friend.... You know what? I'm walking. Bye River."

The hurt on his face makes me twist with guilt. I didn't mean it, I figured we both knew that. I feel the need to hug him and tell him how sorry I am, but, I don't. Instead I get out and begin my decent home.

Walking away from not only my dead best friend, but also the boy I love, who I just killed inside.

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