Lightning

Chapter XIX.

.Age 17. Part 5.

It was his funeral day. I had contacted my friends and kept them informed as to what happened. This all sounded crazy and I know it did. I know they didn't believe me but I had no proof. His parents insisted that this all be kept on the down low. Their way of grieving I guess. They didn't want it publicized. No obituary for him and a quick funeral is all they needed to say goodbye.Heartless if you asked me. The service was lovely and I did all I could not to cry but was nearly impossible. This man put me through Hell and back within half a year. Why was I so upset he was gone? His casket was closed. White with a bundle of beautiful flowers on it. Dan was not the biggest fan of photos. We had one photo together but I had deleted it when we split up. I only had the two rings on a chain and photo of his casket. His family didn't like proper burials so they put him in the families mosalaum. A gorgeous place, I didn't think to take a picture so I googled one and found the closest looking one resembling his. I had shown Morgan the beautiful casket and his tomb. I needed someone and she was the first to respond. Goodbye my lost love.

3 weeks later...

I had been going to NA meetings at my local rec center. The last thing I needed in my life was drugs. They reminded me to much of him and my heart broke more and more everytime I would do a line. Before I knew it I was 2 weeks clean and back to cutting. Still smoking cigarettes and it seems like I keep smoking more and more as each day passes. I couldn't take this pain. How can older couples even live if one goes first, after spending a lifetime together? How? How can they do that? I am dying from the inside out over a 6 month relationship. Nothing was going right. The small spurt where Kyle and I were okay didn't last long and it has been a month since I last heard from him. He didn't seem to care. I saw him on social media having a blast and he has no clue that my love is gone. Why am I even here right now. I posted Dan's casket on my Instagram page and grabbed my headphones off my desk and went up to my bridge. A bridge I have seen to many times since all of this happened. I played My Heart Is Broken by Evanescence and walked. During each trip to the bridge I would bring my knife and slowly start making a hole in the barrier fencing around the entire bridge. For each tear I cried a cut  would be made in the fencing bordering the overpass bridge.

This was my last trip there. This was the end to my story. The pain, the heartache will finally be over. I had cut my wrist before I left and didn't even bother to cover it. I walked up there with blood dripping down my hand, leaving a trail on the sidewalk for someone to follow. When I got there, my song was on loop. Word after word of Amy Lee's voice hit the remainder of my soul and broke it down to nothing. I had died but I was still breathing. As I worked on the hole more and more I finally had it big enough where I could get through and fall into the Expressway ending everything. I took my headphones out and left my phone and headphones on the bridge, grabbing the railing. I cried. Really just let the rest out. I cried for my Mom, I will die with her thinking I hate her. I cried for my Dad. Who didn't know that I was gay, thinking I thought he was a terrible person from the lies he has heard from everyone else. For my Grandma who thought I hated living with her. For my friends, who didn't believe what was going on but stuck by me through it all. For Alex for having lost her big brother. All of them. Even Kyle. And finally I cried for myself. For thinking I was strong enough to live this life.

I placed my foot at the hole and glanced back at my phone to see a purple light flashing. My friends and I always message on WhatsApp and it had its own light indicator. I pulled my foot back and grabbed my phone to see a message, one last one won't hurt. A message that made me grab my stuff and walk back home.

"Hey I am sorry I haven't been there. Morgan told me what happened. Are you okay?".

Kyle.

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