GRAVE FOR THE SOLITUDE, theodore laurence

06| consider yourself part of the family

CHAPTER SIX
consider yourself a
part of the family

'What happened to Amy March?'

That was the question which circulated the Rigby cottage for many still traumatic hours after Eleanor managed to rake to her senses and run back home after the incident, puking beside a tree before passing out on her hay-stacked bed. That morning, Eleanor gazed upon the cotton candy clouds drifting world to another. She sat still as a rag doll as the world laid asleep, while the demons of the night settled back into Hell as the innocent nature arose. How do you traumatise a person? Eleanor felt shattered, the rapid beating of her heart remained the same as a phantom touch. Yet, she managed to cobble herself out of bed and changed into her beige tattered dress. But the same daunting reality sunk in the cracks of her veins and Eleanor cowered away from it, thousands of possibilities wandered her head— Amy could've died. What if Laurie wasn't there? Dead. If they hadn't heard Amy or her own cries of help? Dead.

Death will and won't hesitate to spite anyone as death has no discrimination. And the scariest thing is that it could arise any moment and in the most unexpected times.

Eleanor eventually tied the ribbons tightly around her limp waist and miserably left the darkness of her room, meeting her parents whispering secretively on the dining table. When her heavy footsteps sounded across the cottage, Sofia and Gary halted their whispers and looked at Eleanor. She heaved a dense sigh. 'Morning,' Eleanor greeted glumly.

Gary gently smiled with worried brows. 'Morning.'

Eleanor passed the table and settled at the kitchen top, grabbing a loaf of bread and ripped a piece off aggressively. She twirled around and leant on the bench, beginning to chow through the bread in her scrubby hands. Winter had begun to settle as the air felt moist and the golden sun beat down upon Massachusetts. But Eleanor shivered and took note of the uncomfortable silence stiffening the air. She gulped her bread down and frowned. 'What?' She questioned sharply, darting her eyes expectantly between Sofia and Gary. 'Did I do something wrong?'

Sofia seemed to pull a face which shouted pure confusion. She lowered her bread on her wooden plate quite densely. 'What do you mean "what"? You puked beside the door slurring something about Amy March— what in Heaven's happened?'

Gary carefully lined his lips and placed his hand on Sofia's as Eleanor piped with mild irritation. 'It's just we're really worried, Elle—'

Sofia fumed and flicked her wrist. 'And you puked all over the side of the door—'

'Fiddlesticks!' Eleanor boomed, flinging her hand to the side. 'I just witnessed the near-death of Amy March— just let me puke!'

Gary and Sofia's tensed faces exploded with unreadable emotions. Sofia fell deeply silent as Gary heaved in a wavering breath as he rubbed his knees. And after a couple of seconds, Eleanor's raised shoulders lowered and she huffed. Gary looked at her rashly with a questioning glint in his eye. 'What happened?' He asked carefully.

'I—' Eleanor began and awkwardly stuttered, feeling stinging pricks in the back of her eyes. She flared her nostrils and a line of incoherent slurs and stumbles strung from her lips, as she began to tumble her thumb over the frayed lace of her ragged dress. 'A-Amy— Amy March nearly—' a shaky heave, 'she— she nearly drowned,' Eleanor managed to choke out past the drylands of her blocked throat. At this point, Eleanor couldn't bear to look at anything else other than her boots. Her sight felt fixed— glued to her brown patched shoes and the frays of her knotted lace. 'She could've died,' she added in a whimper.