I glanced at my clock. 2:32Am. Perched at the end of my bed, I replayed the last weeks in my mind for about the trillionth time. What went wrong? I didn't see the signs, not one of them - if there were any.

I sighed and lay back down, holding back the tears. Now was not the time to cry. I needed to think, even though my need for sleep was probably greater.

Camryn was such a confident person. Her smile could light up anyone's day and despite the countless times we argued, she was one of the kindest and most beautiful people I knew. Why would she want to kill herself? It was like my mind was turning into a gigantic puzzle, trying to put together the pieces, the clues, the signs. It started to give me a headache.

I fell asleep eventually, only to be woken up again by a knock at my door. It creaked open and I squinted in the darkness to see my mom enter the room. She slowly came closer and sat down on my bed.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. "I heard cries coming from your room."

I sat up quickly. Cries? I was known for talking in my sleep, but never crying. "Maybe you had nightmares," my mom suggested, pulling my duvet up to my chin.

"Mom, I haven't had a nightmare since I was 9."

Then silence. My mom's face was tired and I watched as she fiddled with a thread on her shirt. She faced me and smiled weakly, defining the creases on her forehead. I knew she was trying. Trying to make this at least a little more bearable for everyone. But she couldn't hide the pain in her eyes. I knew that as much as she distracted herself from the truth, she couldn't hide it. That's what scared me the most.

"I miss her," I whispered.

"I know. We all do." She squeezed my hand briefly. After a few minutes she left silently and carefully closed my door behind her.

I don't know how long I sat there, but I remember it being devastatingly silent. I could feel the absence, wrapping the house in a blanket of emptiness. No more wistful humming or singing, no more smiles that brighten your day, no more dancing - no matter how irritating it became. No more petty arguments, no more jokes and remarks, no more conversations late at night, or talking through the walls, or even those random hugs that made everything seem okay.

No more Camryn.

It felt like a dream, but one of those dreams that feel so real it could almost be reality. So real my chest ached at the thought of it. It felt like a part of me was gone; in fact, a part of me was gone. Lost forever and hurting like I never could've imagined. It's funny. You think, in fact you believe your whole life that nothing bad will ever come your way, that it only happens in movies and soap operas. You spend your whole life thinking that everything will be okay and then just when it's finally perfect-

It's not anymore.

I cried myself to sleep. I couldn't remember the last time I had ever done that.

I woke up a mess. That wasn't so unusual for a Monday morning, but considering school hadn't started yet, it just seemed like any other day - except for the fact that my twin sister was gone.

Everything I did reminded me of my loss, not to mention just the mere action of sitting on my bed and listening to the silence. It was obvious, too obvious. I couldn't handle it, I couldn't believe it. Too many people called saying sorry. Sorry for what? My loss? Because it's not their problem and they don't have to deal with it? Yeah, I'm sorry too. A simple sorry didn't mean anything to me. Not one bit.

My mom said I think too much - actually she's being saying that ever since I could understand what thinking is. Now she's saying that I'm overthinking again, that it's no use. Just leave the truth be. But how can I when the truth isn't even there? For hours on end I switched between reasoning for Camryn's suicide, and the realisation that it actually happened. Once again I came to the conclusion that there was no reason and perhaps, on no occasion, she was kidnapped and brutally murdered.

Of course I knew that didn't happen, but anything to diverge me from the harsh reality of my situation was tempting.

"Kayla," my mom broke my chain of thought. "Matthew's here. Maybe take a break from staring up at that ceiling."

I shifted my gaze from the white plaster to see my mom looking at me through my doorway. I sighed.

"Tell Matthew to come back later. I'm very busy contemplating life." When my mom frowned and started to protest, I added, "He'll understand."

She hesitated then returned to the front door. As much as my mom would like to think so, I didn't feel bad. Sometimes I just didn't feel like seeing my best friend, and he's okay with that. He's tough - or so he likes to imagine.

Matthew and I have been friends since forever. We met as toddlers, thirteen years ago next to a pretzel van. Or was it popcorn? All I remember was that our parents were old friends, and that when Matthew moved in three blocks away, they bumped into each other on the street and old sparks were reignited. Of course, we were nowhere as close as Camryn and I, but close enough to call each other family.

My mom returned, saying I should get some fresh air and go for a walk. Reluctantly I went, and was glad for it. Although it didn't provide answers, the sunshine and cool breeze brought a sense of calm and warmth to my busy mind and slowly shattering heart.

"Kayla, Matthew's back. Switch off that television for a while," my mom called from the kitchen. I hadn't even been watching it.

"Yeah, whatever," I mumbled, sitting up and switching the TV off. I turned to see Matthew standing behind the couch. I stood up. "Hey."

"Hey," he said coming towards me and squeezing me tightly in a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"Hmm," I replied, letting go and plopping on the couch again. "I know." He sat down next to me.

I sighed and leant back. We sat quietly. I turned to face him and he smiled. I smiled back. He chuckled. I did too. Soon we were laughing for no reason, but I didn't care because it felt good to laugh and it felt good to be with my friend again. But soon it passed and I remembered Camryn. The tears of joy soon turned to tears of sadness. I was crying instead of laughing. Quickly I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve but I couldn't stop the flow of water.

"Kayla, I'm so sorry, I-" Matthew started.

"No, I guess I've just been holding it in for too long," I shook my head and sniffed. I glanced at Matthew.

"You're making me cry now," he sniffed and I watched as he blinked away a tear, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Sorry," I chuckled softly.

"It's quite alright."

I took it all in. This was my life now. No Camryn. It scared me. In that moment, everything, all I'd hoped for the next year, disappeared. Seeing a friend, according to my mom, was supposed to make me feel better. Well, it didn't. Instead, it gave me a weird sadness that made my heart swell with nostalgia and pain. It brought back memories that I knew could never be continued unless the person who created them was here.

"Do you ever wonder why?" I asked Matthew. We were sitting outside on the front step of my patio. A dandelion wisp was caught in between my fingers. It was the last one on the patch of grass outside our house. The rest of the lawn was covered in tiny yellow flowers, quivering in the breeze. Matthew plucked up a blade of grass.

"Why what?"

"Why she did it." I gently blew on the dandelion and watched as the seeds floated onto the salty breeze which carried them slowly away. The evening was cooling. Because I lived near the ocean, it always grew cold fairly quickly. I tugged at my jersey sleeves. Matthew glanced up towards the sun and shrugged.

"Sometimes the reason is deep inside the person and we can never know."

"I guess." I snapped the remaining stem in half. "How's your mom?"

Matthew leant his head against the door behind us. "Honestly? I don't know. Her and Carl, they're... difficult together."

Matthew's parents divorced when he was eleven and Carl was his mom's new muse. One of the things I had always admired about Matthew was his strength and courage. He never took his feelings out on others and dealt with his problems rationally. I wished I could say the same about myself.

"Still fight a lot?"

He nodded. "Almost every day. And the worst part is that it reminds me of before. I don't want her to go through that again - it's like she doesn't realise what she's doing. I don't even know why they're still together."

I watched as he threw a tuft of grass on the ground. "Maybe your mom's not the problem. Maybe it's just her choice of men."

"Even so, that's still her problem."

The sun was settling behind a nearby tree. I couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. "You should go home. Sleep - before school takes it all away." I tossed the now crumpled stem into the grass. He closed his almond-brown eyes.

"Or, I could just fall asleep in this lovely sun... right here."

I lay back too and sighed, slowly shutting my eyes against the warm glow of light that was heating my face. Soon, the sun was gone behind the mountain and I felt the cold on my skin. I opened my eyes to a dark sky and turned to my left to see Matthew asleep, breathing deeply. I poked his shoulder. He stirred then blinked.

"Come on. My dad can drive you home."

The warm air made the old church stuffy as we sat silently, awaiting my mom's next words. I hated funerals. Well, who doesn't? My mom and dad had asked me to speak. Even though that's the last thing I wanted to do, sometimes you can only please your parents.

Matthew and his mom sat behind my dad and I. My mom stood at the podium, already in tears as she attempted to finish her speech. My dad slowly stood up and guided her back to her seat. He glanced at me and nodded. I sighed and stood, pulling down my black dress. Approaching the front, I felt obligated to smile. For my mother. I stood and looked out to the church. I gazed at the large embellished dome and the pillars leading up to the gallery on either side of the building, hoping to fool the audience.

I glanced back to my mom and dad and unfolded the paper in between my fingers. I swallowed and started reading my messy writing.

"Love is defined as a strong feeling of affection. But surely it's more than that? Love is the way you care for someone and the words you say. Love is the things you do for others. Love is the way Camryn lived. She was always kind. She was light-hearted. No one could discourage her when her mind was set on something and - she would be glad that we're all here today..."

Of course all of it was rubbish - at least to me. The truth was it was too difficult to say how I really felt. Nobody would understand. I was her only twin sister and my parents were her only parents. No one else would ever be able to comprehend the feeling that her death brought to us.

I let the words carry out across the building. I kept my face neutral - for the sake of the assembly. The people who couldn't handle a crack of the calm exterior - the exterior my mother destroyed with her tears.

"...even though she's gone, she's not completely gone. She will always remain in our hearts and thoughts..." Lies - of course she was gone. Nothing could change that. Having a thought of someone in no way compares to their existence, no matter how vivid the memory is.

"...she will always be remembered. Thank you."

I kept my gaze on my paper as I returned to my seat. My dad hugged me with one arm and whispered, "Camryn would've been honoured."

Afterwards, I trudged slowly away from the graveyard towards the car. My parents were still talking to family but I was no use there. I imagined Camryn beside me, blonde hair tossed behind her, brown eyes sparkling with excitement. But I remembered that a memory is useless and shoved it away. I focused on the grass before me as I neared the road. Matthew appeared beside me. I kept my eyes on the grass. Pine needles pricked through my sandals.

"Hey," he said. "You spoke well." I nodded slowly. "None of it was sincere was it?"

I glanced up at him. "It was sincere. It just wasn't true."

We walked quietly. I caught a glimpse of Jordan Winslow, one of my friends, standing outside his parents' car. He waved. I waved back. The afternoon sun warmed my back as we approached him.

"Hi," he said, smiling. Then it went away. "I'm sorry, Kayla."

I didn't reply. He put his arm around me and sighed loudly. I reached down to pick out a pine needle from my shoe that had dug into my foot. Rubbing the damaged skin, I thought back to a time when Camryn and I played carelessly on this very same field.

We threw up the leaves with glee and sprang happily into the trees, unaware of the burial of our late grandfather that had just happened. Unaware that we were supposed to be feeling sad, even though we wanted to be happy. We danced in the late afternoon sun, through the sunbeams that shone past pine tree branches into our little world.

I remembered the scent of pine, warm like Christmas but fresh like spring. I remembered the joy I felt of being free. I didn't know that my grandfather was gone forever. I didn't realise how difficult it was for my parents. I had no idea that reality existed. But as we lay breathlessly among the trees and the needles, taking in the scent of it all and the warmth of the sun, I remember turning my head to Camryn. She was watching our parents - they were crying. I didn't understand, but Camryn did.

That day, as we gazed up at the cascading branches, watching a butterfly shimmer through the air; that day, when I couldn't imagine ever being happier, that was the day I discovered reality. And not because I understood what was going on, but because Camryn explained. But, as I glanced around me at the pine trees and the gravestones and Jordan and Matthew, I knew that Camryn was gone forever and that she would never be able to explain what was happening to me right now.

"Excuse me," I pulled myself away and headed towards my parents' car, fighting back the urge to look back at the trees behind me. Taking a deep breath I turned to Jordan and Matthew, waved then got into the car.