Your Star

It’s there, burning so brightly as though it’s actually alive. Really though, really it’s just a ball of gas. It’s the same distance from me as you though, a million miles. Never could I hope to reach it, like I could never hope to reach you now. It’s so beautiful, like you always were. Maybe not to the rest of the world, but always to me. I can see it. I can see your star.

 

I swear it’s you, it appeared the same day you died. That night it shone with a more intense glare than any other that the night sky had ever experience, shattering the inky blackness with its overwhelmingly vivid light. Everything you ever fought for in your life is up there, a million miles away but still visible. It feels strange. When did the darkness begin to feel so wrong? So haunted? So, dead?

 

That’s all there is now, in the dark there’s only death. When I’m in bed, all I can feel is your presence by my bedside, waiting for the death of today. A hazy aura of silvery-blue surrounds you in place of a halo. Your hair cascades down your back in a white-blonde curtain of silk. Your skin glitters, at least, what’s not covered by your long, white, bridal-style dress. A lace veil hides your perfect, angelic face and your deep sapphire eyes. All of you is pure, innocent colours, except for your hands. They’re scarlet, stained with the blood that killed you, the blood that seeped from your wrists. That’s why you can’t be an angel; you have an impurity. Everything else about you is chaste and untainted, except for your death.

 

I don’t say I blame you, but you could still be alive. There’s a reason no-one approved of your marriage, a reason why a fifteen year old isn’t allowed to marry. You were too young, too naïve and too emotionally undeveloped. You were blinded by love for the guy he showed you, rather than the guy he actually was. He created an illusion, and a strong one at that. He only unveiled the type of person he wanted you to see, but the second he got you behind closed doors, who knows what kind of monster he could have transformed into?

 

What if you had married him? What if he hadn’t left you at the alter? You couldn’t cope with him leaving you but how could you cope with living with him? With being his housewife? He was too old for you, a great man of twenty-seven and a young girl of only fifteen, it would never work. He was even too old for me, and I’m your older sister. He would want you to drop out of school. What about your exams? What about your dream to be a nurse? You’d lose it all for him. When he left you, and he would eventually, you’d be left with nothing. Mom and Dad turned their back on you as soon as you got engaged. You wouldn’t be able to get a job with no qualifications. Of course, I’d always be here for you, but you know I’m going travelling. You wouldn’t be able to come with me. Your life would be ruined.

 

Still, I suppose none of that matters now. Your life isn’t ruined, it’s over. He’s left our family in a state of devastation and heartache, like it was always destined. Nothing good would ever come of him in our family, we all sense it from the very beginning. All of us, but you. You were insistent that he was the one, and now look what’s happened. He left you looking like a fool, left you to run home and tear up your arms with a razorblade until you bled dry and your heart stopped beating.

 

As I stand here, reading this out to all of our friends and family, your body lying cold and stiff in an oak box beside me, I can pick out one detail. He’s not here. The man you loved so much, the one that tore our family apart and crushed your heart like an apple, he doesn’t even have the decency to show up and pay his final respects to you. That shows just how much he cared about you. He didn’t.

 

Everyone who ever felt anything for you is here. Mom and Dad are in the front row. Mom’s weeping, obviously, and Dad looks like he’s trying to hold back but you and I both know that he won’t last much longer. All of your friends are here too, Maria, Leanne, Michelle, everyone, even though you ditched them for that lout. After everything you did, they still turned up to say goodbye. They did a whole lot more than you pathetic excuse of a fiancé could ever do. Taylor’s here too, of course. I know you and him didn’t always see eye to eye but he’s been a complete godsend this past week, helping me through it all. I know he misses you too, misses the innocent arguments. He’s taking me away after this, we’re flying over to America, to Florida. I need to get away for a bit.

 

Just one thing that I would like to say to all of our grieving relatives and friends, before I leave this podium and retake my seat while Maria speaks (yes, Maria’s even making a speech, maybe next time you should remember that friends are more important than anyone else) I would just like to say, to all of you that miss Alice, tonight as your driving home, look directly up into the sky. Do what I did and you’ll see her, sort of. You’ll see her star. Like me, I can always see it. I can see your star.