The Deal Breaker (Book II)

Chapter Thirteen - Consolers of the Lonely

                                                      Chapter Thirteen

                                                  Consolers of the Lonely 

These past two weeks have been complete and utter hell. It has been worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. Grief wasn’t something I was used to. I’ve lost friends before to drugs or accidents or fights. It happens when you run with a wild crowd. But David? It was entirely different. His death ripped me up inside. The guilt was overwhelming and, mixed with the grief, began to destroy me mentally and physically. I can count on one hand how many hours I’ve slept in two weeks. I’ve lost track of the last time I’ve eaten an actual meal. I haven’t been able to think straight in days.

Your fault.

I killed a perfect guy who had the whole world ahead of him. His dreams of moving near his family and attending a community college and getting a fantastic job are now as dead as he is. Dead. Gone. My fault.

David’s family was called the day after his body was taken to the morgue. They were speechless and broken hearted. They didn’t contact me directly, even though I lived in their son’s house with their son for a year now. I guess they realized I was to blame considering he was doing perfectly fine until I came around. Instead they had David’s body transported to Virginia for the funeral I wasn’t even told about. I didn’t get to go to my own boyfriend’s funeral. David’s uncle contacted me a week after the funeral to arrange to get David’s stuff before selling the house. His house would have to be empty by the end of the month.

I spent that week packing up his stuff as a way to help his family the best I could. I ignored my buzzing cell phone indicating Matthew Foster was calling me, who was the only person I was actually close to. I didn’t want to speak to him. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I eventually took the battery out of my cell phone and locked the doors to keep people away while I packed.

It was a little past two weeks after David’s death when his uncle arrived with a U-Haul and his aunt. They didn’t say much to me other than to ask if it was everything and to tell me I had five days to move out. Maybe it was the look of guilt in my eyes that caused them to be so cold to me. I might as well of had killer written across my forehead. Nevertheless, I helped them load the truck and watched as they hauled David’s car behind the U-Haul packed with everything in the house but my suitcase. In addition to packing, I also sent a little under half of my money with them, making it look as if it belonged to David. Fifty-thousand dollars is the least I could do for his family. The very least.  

The house was completely empty, except for a suitcase, a pillow, and a blanket I set aside for myself. I camped out in the living room, unable to step foot into the bedroom longer than a few minutes. Going into the bathroom was a nightmare for me each time. I relived that night over and over every time I went inside. It wasn’t difficult for me to look for a new place with those memories haunting me.

It was two days before I had to move out when I decided to turn my cell phone on and check my messages. I had about three, all from Matthew, followed by six or so text messages. The first two voicemails were him giving his condolences after hearing the news, though he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He wanted me to call him as soon as I got the message. The last message stated:

“Anna, I still haven’t heard from you. I’ll be over there tomorrow night if I don’t hear from you soon. Don’t do anything stupid.”

I took a deep breath, definitely not wanting him to come here. Instead of calling him I typed up a text message.

I’m fine. No need to come. I want to be alone. –J

My phone buzzed about a minute later.