Without You

This is the story of Jamie, Hana, Ginger, Juliet and John. Their best friend commits suicide.

Jessica. Bullied every day. So tired of it she ended her life, before it even started.

Broken hearts heal over time. Or so they say.

(Formerly entitled 'Never The Answer')

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2. Face the Music

It's Monday. Back to school. I don't want to go. It's never pretty. I know because this is the second death of a friend. The first was years ago though. I take a deep breath and head for a shower.

I wash away the pain, sorrow, and hurt. Tropical scented soap, and shampoo, then alot of cold water. All my showers are cold now. Forever. That lasts for about half an hour.

I'm dressed in a random one of my colourful word shirts, a pair of well worn jeans, a black hoodie, and my black high-top converse sneakers. I throw my medium-length cherry-coke coloured hair into a messy ponytail. My glasses are sitting precariously on my nose.  I head downstairs and put all of my books into my messanger bag. I'm sitting on the couch holding a pillow close holding back tears. I only cry at funerals of people that were in beside my heart. That were past the unscaleable walls around my heart.

Juliet is the first down and she runs over and hugs me tight. We look like sisters her and I, kind of. Her coffee coloured hair is slightly different from mine. She's tan where I'm rather pale. I'm tall, she's short. It's really just the look of our faces. The round like shape with a slightly chiselled angular jaw. I can't really explain it. I have green eyes with a touch of grey and blue, the colour of a great storm. Hers are honey brown. Yet another differance.

"You can't go to school looking like that. They'll look at you and think you're broken, which you are but I know they can't. You are always so strong; you never cry. You mourn for the day and keep going; which is odd but that's just the you they see. Now, you're dressed like you but I'm fixing your hair and you can't stop me okay? Although I need your help to get me together," she says to me. She knows that appearing to be broken is my achillies heel. My weakness. They won't think I'm shattered just vulnerable and bent, but still. She pulles the elastic out of my hair and braids it down the back of my head in a Dutch braid. I smile shakily at her and we go to get her together. I pull out her Gryffindor hoodie, a white tee and a pair of yellow skinny jeans along with red athletic running shoes. I pull her hair into a messy bun and hug her. "There. Just remember the grief councelours expect you to cry. So that's te place to do it. Just there and here okay? Just gotta keep up the image," I say my voice breaking.

The others seem to have gotten themselves together just fine. We get in the van and head to school. I pull into the crowded parking lot and we stand in front of the doors. Time to face the music.

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