"I'm sorry," I whispered gently, gliding my fingers from one side of the coffin to the other, allowing my tears to splash onto her final resting place. From behind, I fely his arm slowly wrap around my waist as he embraced me in a comforting hug. As we walked away, I clutched onto his supporting hand, the never-ending tears finding their place on the tear tracks built on my face.
Melodic church bells rung as she was slowly lowered into the ground, signalling our final farewell. I swear that even Dave, the boyfriend who just couldn't cry, shed tears as we walked away from her resting place.
From what felt like a whole world away, we could hear the waves crashing down onto the golden sand, just yet another signal that life still has to go on. But how could it? My baby sister. The one who I was meant to protect with my life, dead, when I should be. I should have lept out in front of that car and pushed her away, but I was too busy being sixteen to even notice the car.
But I didn't.
I didn't save her.
"Lilly?" Dave's sweet voice came from behind me as I took a moment to breath in the air to try and calm myself. I turned back slowly, a forced, yet still small, smile on my face, and he looked upon me with pity.
My Mom came to stand next to us, looking around anxiously for Dad, who, not surprising, was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't even be bothered to turn up for his own daughter's funeral. I could tell Mom was going to loose it if I didn't do anything, so I entwined my fingers with hers, and whispered quietly,
"He cares, Mom. He does. I know," she nodded, and more tears began to spill from her face as she broke down to her knees, repeating one word over and over again.
Fed up of people nagging me, I slammed the front door on Dave, before running back to my room. None of their apologies could bring her back. There was no point in them, or me, wasting our time.
Words floated endlessly around my head, and pictures of her, happy and peaceful, then mutilated and alone, filled every waking hour of my day, while ghostly figures in white of a young girl haunted my dreams. She was always there, whether I wanted her or not, and she was still sticking to it, even though...
Even though she wasn't here anymore.
Life was always complicated around me. Life was never, however, hopeless. Now it is.
You wouldn't understand how much I wanted to open the barrier I had kept locked for so long, to allow my mother to cry with me in our thoughts, pouring every tiny bit of sadness out, so that she knew I cared. But I couldn't. When you can read minds, you have no choice but to hide within the shadows of those around you, hoping no one notices.
Not even little Charlotte knew. I think she caught me once, that was all, and she was far too young to understand.
That's what haunted me most. She must have known she was dying. With every painful, rasping breath, she must have known. She was old enough to understand. But not old enough to be taken from us.
Slamming the door of my room, I flung myself down onto the bed, crying into my already sodden pillow, surrounded by things that once made me happy.
Chucked on the floor was my favourite book, The Secret Garden, but I couldn't even bear to look at the first page anymore.
My Adele CD's were scattered across the top of my chest of drawers, but I didn't dare play any music.
My mobile was crammed in my school bag, constantly beeping, but I ignored it in case she was reading from above.
Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing.
One day after the funeral, and I already feel like it's been a thousand.
I thought that perhaps the atmosphere was feeling the loss too, considering that the weather was stormy in the middle of July, but then I reminded myself that the atmosphere can't feel. And there sure as hell isn't a God to care for her.
Nothing was waiting for her as she died.
I mean, what does death mean anyway? Why do people die? What is the purpose in death? The only thing it does is inflict pain and misery upon those left behind.
BANG! Startled, I lept out of bed, watching as my window fell off the latch and was blown open by the wind.
"What?" I said aloud, before rushing over to the windows, decorated with the splattered drops of rain.
Shaking, I closed my eyes and broadcast one thought.
IS ANYONE THERE?
Out of no where, a small, ragged piece of paper flew in through the window. Terrified, I opened it. Terrified, but hopeful that perhaps...
I'm not dead. Meet me at the beach at the strike of midnight. Tell no one.
Perhaps the letter was from her.