"A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect. Every action in this world will bear a consequence." -Face Down, Jumpsuit Apparatus

Chapter Seven

There is one thing I've always hated about cemeteries: they're not private.

I mean, sure, eerily enough there is barely ever anyone actually alive in a cemetery whenever you go – but that doesn't mean there's any privacy. There are graves everywhere. Camila had less than a foot on either side before there was someone next to her.

Besides the dead, the cemetery was empty when I pulled up. Fresh flowers sat on lime-green grass next to granite headstones, but not a soul was in sight. In the distance I could see a worker walking across the grounds, and a few ravens swirled in the sky, but other than that it was completely deserted.

I stepped out of my car and closed the door behind me, clutching tightly to the bouquet of lilies in my hand. I walked across the grass towards the place where I knew her grave would be. It was still fresh, packed hard with dirt. There was no headstone yet, and a bouquet of yellow roses sat atop the earth.

I sat down in front of the grave and crossed my legs. I slowly laid out the flowers. "Hey, Cam, it's me," I said, uncomfortable. "You know, I went to the cemetery's flower store to buy some flowers, and I realized that I didn't even know your favorites. I didn't know a lot about you. I didn't know your favorite song or movie genre. I didn't know quotes that stuck out for you. I didn't know the things that meant a lot to you. I should. But I don't."

I blew out a breath and shivered in the chilly air. The ghost of Camila that had followed me around the last few days was gone, and I realized then how alone I suddenly was. There wasn't anyone around. It was just me and her. And a whole lot of dead people.

"I should've saved you," I told her. "If I had gotten there in time... if I had stopped it all, you'd still be here. We could still be doing our usual thing. You'd kick my ass for addiction and I'd roll my eyes at your antics. We'd be the power friends we were. Without you, I'm nothing. I don't know who I am. I was so used to being 'Cam and Perrie' that I don't know who Perrie is without Cam. I don't wanna know."

I wiped away a tear. "I wish I had some heartfelt speech to say to you, but I don't. I just want you to know I'm sorry. But I'm going to do everything I can to find the real killer. I'm going to do everything I can just to avenge your death. I'm gonna make you proud."

I looked up at the sky, searching for some sign she was there looking over me. A flash of lightning, a rumble of thunder, a caw of a bird... Something to tell me she could see me and forgave me.

All I received in return though was a blank gray expanse dotted with stormy clouds and little else.

"If you can hear me, do something," I whispered. "Anything. I always thought you were capable of moving mountains.... So do something for me now. Anything. Just prove that you're here."

Nothing.

"Please!" I yelled. "Don't leave me here alone! Please."

I dissolved into a trembling mess of sobs, and it was hard to believe the level of pathetic I had lowered myself to.

Two arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a thin and muscular body, and I looked up to see Jeremy holding me close. He didn't say a word—he didn't offer some kind of comfort, he didn't kiss me or whisper his condolences or tell me everything was going to be okay. He sat there in the wet and muddy grass next to me, holding me so close to his body I could feel his heartbeat reverberating through my bones as if it were my own.

A soft rain began to fall, but neither of us moved. I was so numb, I couldn't even shiver in the cold. All I could do was sit in that grass and cry and hold onto Jeremy as if he were a lifeline in the dark. I had never been so grateful to have him there before. Not even when he was handing me a needle at my darkest hour.

"How did you find me?" I whispered after a while. I sat between his legs, curled into his chest. If anyone had walked past, they would have thought us crazy. Two kids sprawled in the rain in the middle of a graveyard. But I could care less what they thought. It felt as if Jeremy and I were the only two people in the world.

"After you left school, I checked the bleachers, your house, the town. Whenever things went to shit you went straight to Camila. It wasn't much of a leap in logic."

I sniffed. "Cam would be disappointed at how predictable I am. She'd be disappointed in me for a lot of things."

"Perrie, Cam loved you," he told me seriously, pulling me back and staring into my eyes. "We were never friends. You know that. Cam wasn't friends with anyone. But you... you ignited something in Cam. She cared for you in a way I didn't think she was capable of. She was a bitch and I hated her, but I'll give her one thing... She loved you."

I wiped a tear away on the sleeve of my sweater and brushed a lank of wet hair from my forehead. "I let her down, Jeremy," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it. I see her lying in that water. I feel her heart stop. Every time I close my eyes... I lose her again. I don't know how to make it stop."

"Perrie, there was nothing you could do," he told me. A clichéd line. "You didn't know what was going to happen. You did nothing but support Camila, and I'm sorry for the hard truth, but whatever happened to Cam is on her, not you."

I shook my head. 'I can't do it, Jer. I can't live like this."

He grabbed my face in his hands and forced me to stare into his eyes. "Yes you can, Perrie. You can and you will. For Cam."

I looked down and tried to stop my chin from shaking as more tears filled my eyes.

"Say it with me, Perrie," Jeremy repeated. "For Cam." He shook me. "For Cam."

I looked up at hi and nodded. "For Cam."

I had a feeling if Cam really was looking down, she'd be deeply ashamed at what I'd become.

~ * ~

Home was the last place on Earth I wanted to be, but I knew I couldn't avoid returning forever. It was late in the afternoon when I got home, but I was surprised to find only one lamp on in the living-room. Of course my father wouldn't be home from work until late, but I was used to seeing a bedroom light and a study light on. It was haunting.

I stepped out of the car and towards the house, jiggling my keys nervously. I had no idea what kind of scene awaited me, and I had no desire to find out.

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer. I stepped down the main walkway and peeked into the foyer, where I saw my mother sitting there in her silk nightgown, an old novel in hand and the cordless phone in the other.

She looked up at me, and the shame in her cobalt eyes struck me even from afar. "No note," she said in a toneless voice. "No message. No call. You just disappeared."

"I needed to vent," I replied. "I didn't think you wanted or needed to hear from me."

"My child disappears for four hours without a word on where she is, and you don't think I deserve to know you're all right? I drove around town looking for you, but no one had seen you. I was going to leave it one more hour before calling the police. This isn't a joke, Perrie. There's a killer out there."

"I'm aware of that fact," I told her. "They're currently doing a fantastic job at framing me for my best friend's murder. But I'm fine."

"Where were you?" she asked, glancing at me speculatively over the rim of her reading glasses. I knew she was taking into account my tired eyes, windswept hair and dirty jeans. "Do I even want to know?"

"If you must know, I was at Cam's grave," I replied. "Remember her? My dead best friend that I'm still grieving the loss of?"

She shook her head at me. "I have put up with everything from you lately. I've put up with you sneaking out at odd hours in the morning, I've put up with your attitude towards your father and myself, I've put up with your harsh words and violence. But no more."

"What does that mean? You're finally developing a spine?"

She stood up angrily. "No. What it means is that the pity card isn't going to work around here anymore."

"Good," I replied. "Because I don't want your pity. Now I'm just pissed."

~ * ~

I waited until I was sure my mother and father had both left the following morning to finally get out of bed. Starved from having been cooped up in my room for so long, and itching for another fix, I made my way downstairs and poured myself a glass of juice and a bowl of cereal.

As I took a seat at one of the breakfast stools, I noticed a yellow note posted on the counter, and picked it up slowly. Unfolding it, I read my mother's words in her neat cursive.

Mrs. Castle is expecting you in her office at 12. Be there.

"Love you, too, Mom," I whispered, scrunching it up. I knew I deserved the cold shoulder, but it still stung.

I finished off my breakfast and sat in the kitchen forlornly for another hour, procrastinating how to spend my first day of suspension. Though I hadn't counted on it involving going back to the school to see a shrink, it was better than boring myself in front of the TV watching mindless daytime soap operas.

I showered and got dressed quickly, changing into something warm and comfortable. I viewed the appointment with the counselor with worry, but knew I had to do it if only to avoid another argument with my mother, who would surely be on my back if I didn't show up. Hopefully one session would clear up anyone's suspicions of me needing grief-counseling, and I'd be free to live out the rest of my suspension without my mother hassling for me to see the counselor again.

When it was finally time to leave, I drove to the school and parked neatly in a spot far away from the entrance. I'd only been gone one day and already someone had taken Cam and my parking spot. Vultures.

I made my way to the office with varying degrees of trepidation. The woman in question was in her mid-fifties, loved yoga and spirituality, and had a voice so quiet it wouldn't scare off a mouse. She seemed nice enough, but not someone you'd want to be trapped with in a confined space for prolonged periods of time.

I knocked on her office door and waited for it to slowly open. Her face appeared, which was fine and pretty. She probably would have been quite a stunner when she was younger, with tanned skin and light eyes. Her elderly face was framed by blonde locks as thin and shiny as corn silk, and she wore a long skirt and sensible blouse. She beckoned me in with a slim hand adorned in bracelets and rings, and I slowly stepped into the office.

The place smelled like vanilla incense, and the walls were covered in framed pictures with positive mantras. If Cam had been here, she would've laughed at how completely tacky the whole affair was, and I was beginning to regret coming here.

"Thank you for coming," she began, gesturing for me to sit on a chair facing her desk. I did as she asked, and she sat across from me. "Are you here alone?"

"It's just me," I replied.

"Then let's get started." She crossed one prim leg over the other and watched me with a small smile. "Tell me a little about yourself."

"Like what?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Anything that comes to mind. It can be anything from where you grew up to your pets to what hobbies you enjoy. Just speak from the heart."

"Well, my name is Perrie Donovan, and I don't have a favorite color," I admitted. "I also have no pets and no conceivable hobbies."

She arched an eyebrow. "None? You don't enjoy writing or playing any sports or any type of art?"

"I guess I listen to music a little," I replied, shrugging. "But apart from that, not really."

"What kinds of music do you like?"

"Anything. Acoustic, mostly," I told her. "Something quiet or soothing."

"What do you do in your spare time if you don't have any hobbies?"

It was a good question, and one I didn't have an answer to. Mostly it was spending time grieving over Camila and shooting up with Jeremy, though I didn't think that would be an entirely appropriate thing to mention to the righteous counselor. "I research things," I said finally, thinking of the extensive research I'd been doing into Cam's life recently in the attempt to find her killer.

"Oh, really?" she replied. "What kinds of things?"

That was yet another question I couldn't answer truthfully. I shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know. All kinds of things. Recent history, current events... Whatever."

"Was that something you and Camila liked to do together?" Mrs. Castle continued, tapping her pen on her desk. "Research things?"

"No."

Mrs. Castle watched over me. "You don't really want to be here, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?" I replied, picking at a fray in the cotton of the chair.

She sighed. "You think any teenager wants to waste away their hours sitting in a chair talking to a psychologist? Not likely. But you and I can make it worthwhile. You just have to try."

"I don't need therapy," I replied. "My best friend died. But I'm not... mentally scarred."

"Aren't you?"

"Am I?"

The room was so thickly coiled with tension that I had to curl the fingers into the palms of my hands just to feel something other than awkwardness. Her lips were pressed tightly to each other, and her eyes were calm and speculative. Like I wasn't a person. Like I was a lab rat.

"Perrie, you seem like a strong girl, so I'm going to be frank with you," Mrs. Castle began, putting down her notebook and staring at me squarely. I gulped. I really wasn't a strong person. "Your best friend died. You were the one who found her that way. I've heard whispers. A lot of people think you did it. And now you're on a downward spiral."

"Is there a point to this?" I asked. "Or is it just to make me feel worse than I already do?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Perrie. I'm just trying to get you to admit the facts."

"Well, consider this my admittance," I told her. "You're right. About the death, the rumors, and the downward spiral. And I'm glad we could clarify it. Can I go now?"

"How does it make you feel?" Mrs. Castle asked. "Tell me what you felt when you saw Camila lying there."

"Is this some kind of joke?" I replied. Was she really asking me to describe my emotions at seeing my dead best friend lying submerged in dirty pond water?

"I'm not laughing," Mrs. Castle replied serenely. "Tell me how you felt."

"Like my whole world was falling apart!" I replied. "Like I wanted to die. Like if she was gone, I wanted to be right with her."

"You two really were close, weren't you?"

"She was my best friend. There wasn't a thing on this Earth I wouldn't do for her."

"Perrie, why did you attack that girl in the bathroom?" Mrs. Castle asked.

"She said something bad about Cam. I was defending her."

"Why?" Mrs. Castle persisted. I had a feeling they got paid extra money whenever they said that word, because it certainly came up a lot in therapy sessions. 'Why' this, and 'why' that. "Camila couldn't hear her. The girl didn't physically provoke you. So why do it?"

"She said that I killed Cam, and that she deserved to die," I told her. "I know violence isn't the answer, but I couldn't just let it slide. Camila deserves better than that."

"I understand that you're hurting now, but fighting isn't going to bring her back. People talk and gossip; it's just what they do. But do you really think Camila would want you fighting other people?"

I thought about it for a second. "Yes, actually. She was quite ferocious by nature."

The look Mrs. Castle threw me told me she was unimpressed by my dull attempt at humor. "You're hurt and angry—and you have every right to be. But you're not here to learn how to make the pain go away; you're here to learn to accept it and move on. I want to help you, but it's a two-way street. We can work together, if you let me help you. What do you say?"

I glanced at the clock, and tried to hide a smile. "I say our time's up. It was nice chatting with you, Mrs Castle."

I stood up and started for the door. But then something gnawed at my gut; begging me to voice my concerns and receive an answer. I turned around and faced Mrs. Castle, who was fiddling with something on her desk.

"Can I ask you something?"

She smiled gently. "Of course. What is it?"

"Do you think it's... normal to see something that's not really there?" I asked, fiddling with my fingers. My mind kept getting caught on my delusions of Cam. She seemed so lifelike, like she was really there. I knew it was impossible, but everything she said and did was so her it had me wondering if she was a ghost or if maybe the drugs had finally gotten to my brain and I finally was losing it.

"What do you mean?" she replied, standing up to face me squarely. I shrunk against the doorframe, wondering if she was going to declare me clinically insane.

"Sometimes I see Cam. She comes to me. She talks to me. But it's like she's still alive. It's like she's real. Is that possible?"

"Very much so," Mrs Castle replied, and I could tell she didn't think me insane at all. There was nothing judgmental about her stare, and I was instantly glad I'd asked her. "It can stem from several things. It can stem from missing her, like when people imagine waking up in their own rooms when they've been away from home for a while. It could be PTSD—it's not uncommon for people to experience hallucinations after seeing something graphic or disturbing. If you continue to see me, we can work through that and hopefully make those hallucinations stop."

"I don't know if I want that," I told her honestly.

She frowned and tilted her head to the side inquisitively. "Why wouldn't you want that?"

"It's the last thing I have tying me to Cam. When she's there... everything feels better. It's like she never left and she's still with me. If I stop that... what do I have left of her?"

"Memories," Mrs Castle replied. "All those happy times you shared. But seeing her through delusions... that's no way to see your friend. She's not really there, and all it will do is open old wounds. You need to get over that to truly move on. Just because you don't see or speak to her, doesn't mean she's not still with you. She's with you in every beat of your heart and every step you take."

"I miss her," I whispered. "I miss her laugh and her voice and the little things she did to make me smile. It's not fair."

"Life rarely is," Mrs Castle replied. "But we have to keep fighting. It's what keeps us alive."

"Thank you for talking to me," I told her. "It's been nice talking to someone who doesn't look at me with pity."

"Does that mean you'll be back?" she asked hopefully.

I smiled. "Maybe. Have a good day, Mrs Castle."

I walked out the door, feeling better for having come. I felt like a weight had been lifted; like I had someone there if I needed it.

God, I hated when my mother was right.

~      *     ~

Hi guys! It's been a long time since I updated, I know.

A lot has changed in the last year for me, though. It's no excuse for leaving it almost 18 months, but it is some form of justification for the neglect.

For anyone who may be out there wondering, I found true love! Since my last update I finished school, got a job, and moved into an apartment with the love of my life.

Adult life is hard, and busy.

But I gave up on my hobbies for too long, so I'm going to make more of a conscientious effort to update on this.

If you're still reading this thank you.

Also I'm ditching my author name because I'm tired of hiding behind an Internet persona. I want to acknowledge the work I've done and the life I've made for myself on Wattpad properly and not from behind a pseudonym.

So for the first time in a long time, I'm signing off not as Laney B, but as me.

Holly x