Last summer, when Bex and I visited the Museum of Renaissance Weaponry, she wished away six boring hours of history by swimming in an unhealthy awe of a scythe-lance. I stole that lance. Now I've swallowed the lance and it cuts me inside. Tearing me to shreds, and now I'm ribbons. Beautiful ribbons, drifting, sobbing tears of blood.
All of my memories of my bestfriend are tainted by the thought of Bex crumpled in her backyard, her beautiful porcelain face a shattered saucer. And by some twisted, cruel, force of nature is her face held in one piece.
It's been 16 hours since Nik called the cops, screaming at them to send an ambulance, but it was too late. It was always too late!
Only 16 hours ago her daughter was brutally murdered, but Mrs. Ciprano is already organizing the funeral like it's some ordinary charity event she's funding. She already informed me the I have to write the eulogy, because it's what Bex would have wanted. Like she would know!
Maybe not grieving is Mrs. Ciprano's way of coping with grief, but, I doubt Bex would approve of us turning her into a distant memory.
Now I have to put my thoughts aside to scratch out a eulogy of lies and misinformation. No one would really care to hear the truth about her anyway.
My hands are shaking so bad Nik thought I was seizing up when I brought a fruit basket. He was so concerned he grabbed my spazzing hands and led me to the sofa and ran into the kitchen to get something for me to eat. He's always seemed to pay more attention to me than to our other friends, Juvia, River, or Grayce. But now is NOT the time to be thinking about why that is! When Nik comes back I'm standing by the hearth, staring at an old family picture from 4th grade and a tear slips down my cheek. I think I'm alone and that he is still in the kitchen so I am shocked when his arms wrap around me and his tears for his little sister are mixing with mine and were miserable together.