The City | GirlxGirl

thirty three ➳

Rolling to her side, Jude realized that Skylar had already left for work. If she had still been in bed, she would've rolled right into the other girl. And then Jude realized how late in the morning it must be, if Skylar was already awake and out of the house.

She didn't blame herself for sleeping in so late. The two had spent the entire night last night talking-or rather, Jude cried; Skylar reassured her that it would be okay. She also didn't blame herself for feeling like half of her body had been torn off. Skylar reminded her that the part that had been ripped off was not the most important part-that was the part that was still there, still intact, albeit a little roughed up.

Jude would have slept longer, in fact, if it wasn't for her phone ringing on the table that sat on Skylar's side of the bed. In the ten seconds it took for her to reach her phone, her heart dropped, landing in the pit of her stomach. A shiver rose up the length of her spine, making her entire body shake in the process. But it wasn't her parents, nor was it Thom. It was an unknown number. Angry that whoever it was she didn't know decided to wake her up from a very long and refreshing sleep, Jude collapsed back onto the bed. It only took her a moment to realize that the phone call could actually be important.

"Hello?"

"Jude."

Frowning, Jude sat up again, kicking her legs out of the comforter and letting them hang over the edge of the obnoxiously large bed. She knew that voice. High-pitched, slightly squeaky; it reminded her of nails running down a chalkboard. And yet it belonged to a woman who had always been so kind towards Jude.

Thom's mother.

Only today, she didn't sound like her usual warm self. Today, she was sobbing into the phone, sniffling every few seconds, heaving for air. She could barely get the words out, but she managed to do so before Jude could ask what was wrong-or rather, why she was calling.

"Thom, it's Thom," she said, and kept repeating. "He's-Jude, I'm sorry, I can't-it's Thom, it's Thom.

"Thom is dead."

It took Jude a minute or two to register what these words meant. Being twenty two, it wasn't often that Jude came across a sentence, or a group of words, that she had never heard before. "Good morning," "how are you doing today," and "I'll see you soon," were just a few examples. They were words she heard everyday, both individually and as part of a phrase.

But the words Ruth spoke were three words she had never heard together before. Because up until now, they had never been true. And there had been no need to put them together.

It took a long time for Jude to find her voice. Somewhere, in the midst of shock, sadness, and confusion as to how this could have happened, Jude's mouth fell all the way open, and her voice must have left her. Closing her mouth, she seemed to find her voice, but finding her words was much, much harder. "When?"

"Last night. One of the neighbours-I think they had been friends-found his body. Oh God, Jude. My son. I can't say it again."

"It's okay," Jude assured her. She wiped a single tear from her cheek before continuing. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

What about, "I should have been there with him?" Or, "If I left him, this never would have happened?"

But Jude couldn't say those words, because they were all false hope-hope that was hopeless, because you couldn't change the past.

"I am not blaming you," his mother said firmly. "I just had to let you know. You deserved to know."

"Did he tell you he and I broke up?"