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CHAPTER 8
SILVER
They have got to be kidding me! Who signed me up for flippin’ choir?! I have such awful stage fright.
“Is everything okay?” Arrow calls, coming into the kitchen where I’m busy having a small panic attack. I give him a nod, then move down the hall toward my room.
Donovan is doing pull-ups in his doorway. Shirtless, his muscles glistening with sweat. I try not to ogle, and move past as fast as I can. Too bad he’s such an ass because that body is made for sin.
No Silver, focus.I enter my room and shut the door. Walking to the closet, I dig for my old notebook full of songs I wrote. How these people knew I used to want to be a songwriter, I haven't a clue. I finally find it wrapped in a sweatshirt of Luna’s. It’s the only thing I have left of hers. Everything else was destroyed in the explosion.
I wish I had something of my mother's as well.
“Are you ready to go, Silver?”
I turn and Anita is standing beside my bed, holding a pair of sweats out for me to wear. I turn my head back and watch the birds.
“They say it's okay to leave now. I know you're nineteen and can do what you want, but I would like you to come stay with me,” she says softly, before sitting on the end of the bed and quietly crying.
I close my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.
They are gone. I’m all alone now. No more fighting with Luna over stupid shit, no more baking with Mama, no more family movie nights.
I wipe the tears once more and grab her hand. “Thank you, Auntie.”
That really sets her off, her sobs becoming deafening.
“They said I can leave? I’d like to go back to the house please.” I take a pause, holding back my own emotions once more. “I need to see for myself.”
She starts immediately shaking her head. “No no, baby. Trust me, you do not want to go back there. At least not yet, okay?”
I let go of her hand, lifting the blanket from my lower half. Grabbing the pants she brought me, I gingerly put my legs in them. I was lucky compared to the rest of my family, but I didn’t walk away unscathed. I’m covered in scrapes from the broken glass, and bruises, so I’m extremely sore.
“I know, Anita. I know they won’t be there. I just need to see, okay? Please.”
She sighs and nods her head. “Okay, but then we’re going home and straight to the couch. I need wine. Lots of wine, and junk food.”
My stomach revolts at the thought of food. How can she be thinking of eating at a time like this? I guess everyone grieves differently.
We leave the hospital and slowly, reluctantly, go to the house, or the empty lot covered in ‘do not cross’ yellow tape. I get out of the car and collapse on my knees, gasping for breath. It’s a giant pit full of nothingness. All the memories, the wall in the kitchen that showed our height growth, the closet wall full of song lyrics...
Gone.
I don’t remember much after that day. Anita calls it a blackout. I was awake but in a zombie state. I didn’t eat, sleep, cry—nothing. I just stared at the wall, all day and all night.
After two weeks of that, she’d had enough and took me to talk to someone.
They call it survivor's guilt. I still struggle with it, but I’m doing better. Being away from my hometown and all the pity stares helps.
I sit on the edge of the bed and reread a few of my compositions, letting the tears gently fall. I can admit, some of them are actually good.
Someone knocks on the door, and I wipe the evidence of my breakdown from my cheeks.
"Come in," I croak out. I clear my throat a few times, then repeat myself louder.
Jax opens the door but doesn't enter. "Are you okay? I know you don't know me well, but I'm the best listener of the group. That is, if you ever want to talk," he offers, before looking at the floor and biting his lip. Are his cheeks getting red? Okay, Jax Arrow is too cute, with his shaggy dirty blond hair, and green eyes.
I stand and move toward him. He still won't meet my gaze, so I put a finger under his chin, gently shifting his head up.
