Patrick

There's a hole where my heart should be. Maybe not literally, but that's what it feels like. My heart that was beating and pumping away last night was ripped out of my chest and now it feels lifeless, like it isn't even there. All that's left is just a hollow cut out. I don't want to be alive right now, and I know that seems a little bit irrational, but it's not. I'm the one that killed Ella, and nobody can tell me differently. Even her grandfather said it. If it weren't for me being so caught up in what everyone thought about her then she would be right next to me. Maybe we would be laughing about her obsession with celebrities, or my obsession with Superman. We would be doing anything but this, that's for sure. Me walking along the empty streets at four in the morning because my girlfriend just died in a car accident was far from what I expected to be doing.

That's the shitty thing about life though. You never know when it's going to be your last day on earth. You walk around and you pay attention to earning money, or going shopping, or talking to your friends, but death is probably the last thing on your mind because let's face it, nobody likes to ever think about it. We never think about it until someone close to us isn't here anymore, and the worst way it hits us is when someone passes away unexpectedly. It wasn't like I had someone who was on life support and I had a chance to tell them my final words. I didn't get that with Ella. All I could do was imagine them in my mind and let the everlasting sentences float throughout my head, never seeming to go away.

Drew seems beyond irritated standing there in shorts and a t-shirt, his hair ruffled up and going in all different directions. He throws his hands up when he sees me and asks what is so urgent, and when he asks that it makes the anger I'm holding inside of me increase that much more. He deserves what's coming, and his eyes widen when I reach him, my fist coming into contact with his jaw before he has the time to say anything else.

Blood spatters onto the sand, but I don't care. I'm shaking from being so angry, from putting up with all of his bullshit, but mostly from all of them. He's the main reason I couldn't speak how I felt because of all of his snide comments and remarks. Ella would have been proud of me I think. I hope this is what she wanted.

"Dude, what the hell?" He groans in agony, holding the side of his face before he spits more blood out. "What the fuck was that for?"

"Ella died tonight. She died because she drove home from the party you made me go to!"

I'm crying now, not exactly caring that he's seeing me break down. When he hears what I said, he lets out a deep breath and looks up into the sky. I don't want to look up because it would make me think of her, and right now I can't think about her anymore than I already am.

"I didn't make you come, Patrick. I asked you if you wanted to, and fuck, I'm sorry that happened, but why are you so-"

"BECAUSE I LOVED HER!"

And then it's out, the sentence sputtering off of my lips at such a rapid speed. I just stare at him all wide-eyed and wait for his reaction, the weight of one thousand pounds seeming to be lifted directly off of my shoulders. I can only hope that Ella is watching wherever the hell she is because I finally did it. Ella, I loved you.

"I couldn't say it for the longest time Drew because you guys treated her like shit. You called her names, you laughed at her, you made fun of her. It was all because maybe she had a couple extra pounds? Do you realize how much of a fucking asshole you are? I couldn't stand up for her for the longest time, but now I'm doing it too damn late. You make me want to puke from how poorly you treat others. I'm going to pray for you though, and I hope you can change your life around and change your way of thinking because this is what you do to people. You push them to their breaking point."

"Patrick, we didn't know you guys were dating." He says. "If we had known then-"

"If you had known then what? You would stop when I was around, but when another girl that looks like her walks over you'll continue it? How about you stop making fun of others based on how they look? Every single one of us has a story that you have no idea about, and let me tell you, you didn't know the first thing about Ella. She was kind, and she was smart, and she was beautiful, and she was everything I wanted in a girlfriend and more. You sick people continued to make her self-esteem grow lower and lower, and it's because of people like you that some people commit suicide. It's disgusting, Drew. You disgust me."

He's speechless and I'm out of breath. My eyes sting from all of the crying, my legs hurt from all of the walking, my whole body is in complete shutdown, but I know that I needed to do this.

"I'm sorry." He finally mutters, avoiding eye contact. He's bleeding pretty badly. A part of me thinks I should help him out, but I know that I'm too infuriated to do anything else tonight at this point.

"Oh, don't be sorry to me." I let out a chuckle of sarcasm. "I'm done with you. I didn't come here to get an apology from you because as far as I'm concerned, you and the group of friends you hang around with aren't a part of my life anymore. I'm not surrounding myself with heartless people. What I came here to tell you is that you and all of your other asshole friends better be at her damn funeral weeping at her casket, and an apology better come out of all your mouths. If you're a decent person, if you have any heart at all, you'll do just that."

I don't wait around to hear him answer because I choose to simply walk away from him, my sneakers scuffing on the gravel once I'm off the sand, the weight of the world coming completely off of my chest for the second time tonight.

__________

When I get home it's almost five thirty in the morning. My mom probably has gone to bed and my dad is still sleeping. He hasn't woken up through all of the commotion, but I'm certain my mom will fill him in when they wake up.

I hate the quiet. The front door shuts behind me, and when my sneakers come off I just stand there and listen to the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the dining room, my thoughts being too loud in my head. I should be tired. I should want to collapse, but I'm wired. My hands are shaking and I feel all jumpy. I feel like a psycho, and I probably look like one too with my hair being all over the place and my eyes completely bloodshot.

It isn't until I go to head upstairs that I see the night light on in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator echoing into the hallway. Do not do this to yourself, Patrick. Just go upstairs.

But I don't listen, and in seconds I'm opening up the fridge, a pot staring back at me with the soup inside of it. My heart breaks; I mean completely breaks when I see a note taped to the side of it with her handwriting in perfect cursive. Hopefully this makes you feel better. I love you Patrick!

The bowl is in my hands from the cupboard, and I pour the soup into it and microwave it, staring at the note as I wait for the beep. I don't want to touch it because for some strange reason I feel like this is the last thing she touched. Her hand was on this yesterday, and now she will never touch another piece of paper again.

I jump when the beep sounds on the microwave, but pull out the bowl anyways and grab a spoon. Ella told me in twenty questions once that she enjoyed cooking, and I told her that would certainly come in handy in the future because I can't cook to save my life.

The hot liquid travels down my throat and oh my god is it good. It's the best thing I've ever tasted, and as I stare down into this bowl of soup I begin to cry. Harder than I have all night, practically sobbing, but I continue to eat it because this would be the last first meal she ever made me. I would never get to see her cooking, I would never get to see her on the breaks I had all planned out to go and visit. Instead, I can only sit here and imagine what she looked like cutting up all of these tiny carrots and pieces of celery floating around in this broth.

What sucks the most is that life has to go on. Life can't stop when something like this happens. Life doesn't just freeze for you to get over it. Even though someone close to you has passed away and his or her life has ended, yours hasn't. You still have to wake up every day, you still have to plaster a smile on your face and go to work and school to deal with people even though the only thing on your mind is them. That's the worst thing about death I think because not only do you have to try and deal with their life being over, you have to deal with continuing yours as well.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper through my sobs, praying to God she can hear me. "For everything, Ella."

Author's Note: 

UGH, MY HEART. 

This stuff just kills me to write!!!!

I'm in love with Patrick though

This character development???

bitcchh!!!

A girl really tried lol 

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