"Why does tragedy exist?
Because you are full of rage.
Why are you so full of rage?
Because you are full of grief."

     DESPITE THE AFTERNOON SUN, the day felt dull. Nadia's bags were hanging loosely in clenched fists, staring up at the paint peeled walls of a house that no longer really belonged to her. There wasn't a word to describe that feeling. Guilty was close.

She had booked a flight to the Outer Banks just like she said she would after she got off the phone with Phoebe two days before. Her aunt had promised she would look after Ada for as long as needed, and that only added to that guilty pit in her stomach. She had never been away from her daughter before.

There wouldn't be a funeral for a week. The autopsy wasn't finished, Phoebe had texted her.

She still hadn't really felt anything about it all. She kept telling herself how do you sit in a room full of people who were there for him when she wasn't. The door swinging open had snapped her from the daze she seemed to be in, not getting a second to even register before arms were swinging around her, squeezing her so tight she thought she might suffocate.

"Hi," the brunette murmurs, relaxing ever so slightly when she opens her eyes and lets out a huff to blow away the red hair that was scratching her face. "Hi," Phoebe whispers. She purses her lips when she shrugs herself from the Sinclair girls grip, "it's good to see you," she says quietly. The red head girl's expression softens, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She had been waiting two years to hear Nadia say that.

But she just nods, nudging her, taking one of the bags from her grip and motioning up toward the wooden porch. "Can we just wait here another minute?" Nadia murmurs, eyes trailing over the hallway only half illuminated by a flickering lampshade. "Okay," Phoebe nods, eyebrows slightly furrowed but setting the suitcase down on the grass nonetheless, staring at the brunette who was still staring aimlessly right at the front door that was wide open. It almost terrified the Sinclair girl how emotionless the girl stood in front of her was, and it made her fumble nervously with the end of her shirt.

     After a minute of agonising silence Nadia mutters out an, "is Gavin home?"

    Phoebe shakes her head, "he's at the station he's been there for hours, I don't know what more they—"

    She trails off as the brunette girl walks away from her, straight up the porch steps and setting her bags by the end of the stairs. Nadia Kennedy was never one to give too much away— with anything she did. But this was different. All lights were on but nobody was home.

   The Kennedy girl lets out a huff of a laugh as soon as she heard it. The sound of that stupid leaky bathroom tap that to no surprise still wasn't fixed after all this time. "Someone needs to fix that tap," she murmurs when Phoebe appeared in the doorframe behind her, throwing the rest of her belongings on top of her bag and slowly walking into the kitchen. The red headed girl lets out a shaky breath, following her.

    "You're allowed to be sad, Nadia," she says firmly, waving an arm out dramatically, watching carefully as the Kennedy girl leans over the sink, scanning her eyes over the weeds and grass that were overgrowing their backyard fence. "—I think you forget that I know you sometimes," Phoebe adds, a lot quieter than before.

    "He hated mowing the lawn," the Kennedy girl suddenly grumbles, a shaky laugh vibrating past her lips. Nadia remembers berating her younger brother almost every two weeks about going out to do it. He would always think of a poor excuse. Like for the hundredth time he would tell her it "just adds character" to their small garden. Maybe she had missed the petty arguments over that damn grass.

"I think he hated a lot of things," the Sinclair girl mutters. And for a moment the two girls erupted into quiet laughter. An almost glimpse of normalcy, until the brunettes head was hanging into the sink, hands clutching the wood of the countertop as if it would somehow stop the muffled sobs that were echoing against the kitchen walls.

     "Nadia," Phoebe exhales, placing a hand over the girls shoulder, pulling her in as quickly as she could so the brunette girl couldn't suddenly change her mind about being comforted.

"It's fine, i'm fine," she says firmly, gently pushing herself away to sit down at the kitchen table, fidgeting with the tips of her fingers. And that was that. The tears stopped. The silence that came next was almost unbearable, and she could feel Phoebe's eyes burning right through her, but she didn't care enough to meet her gaze. "You're not alone, Nads," the red head breaths, reaching for the girls hand that the Kennedy girl quickly avoided, letting her fist fall into her lap. "I know that," she mutters.

She brings her thumbnail between her teeth, and the Sinclair girl was sure if she bit any more skin off she wouldn't have fingers for much longer. Biting down on her lower lip, she furrows her eyebrows, "God how did I let this happen," she whispers. The Sinclair girl leans back with a frown, shaking her head, "you didn't let anything happen, nobody could have ever expected any of this."

The two fall into a few more minutes of quiet back and forth, mainly about funeral arrangements. "I didn't even ask how you were," Nadia murmurs, letting her hands fall over her face, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry Phoebe," she whispers.

    "I'm— i'm doing the best I can. We have each other," the red head nods.

"—But listen— I didn't want to tell you this over the phone. But I meant it when I said things really are crazy here," Phoebe pauses, biting the inside of her cheek. "—Do you remember Jess Summers," she says quietly.

"From high school?"

Phoebe nods. "She's dead."

Nadia lets out a huff of a laugh, covering frustrated hands over her face, "god we are living a shitty criminal minds episode." And absolutely nothing was funny, but the two girls laughed anyways. "And you thought things were bad before you left," Phoebe chuckles, mimicking the brunette girl across from her with a hand over her mouth.

Nadia finally manages to look over at the Sinclair girl, both of their expressions softening slightly. They didn't need to say anything else really. Each other's company was finally enough.

"Did you tell Faye? I'm surprised she didn't come," Phoebe says softly. "Oh— she couldn't make it. She promised to look after—" she pauses, wincing slightly at her own words. She had never really thought about the secret she was keeping from everyone through the chaos of it all. She knew now would have been the perfect time to admit it. But she didn't. Because she wasn't staying. And admitting it might just be the reason she would have to.

So she lied. "—She just couldn't make it. She was working," she says firmly.

    Nadia wanted to ask about him. It had been on the tip of her tongue for the next ten minutes while the two girls spoke mindlessly. She never really dared to ask about him before. Mainly because she thought she would never have to see him again. And as if the red head could read her like a book, she smiles softly, "Rafe came by asking for you yesterday."

   "Oh," was all the brunette could manage.

    She opens her mouth to speak again just as the front door opens and closes, the two girls heads listening to the patter of footsteps in the hallway. His expression was hardened when he peered around the door— just like it always was, his eyes grazing over his girlfriend and sister and sending them both a small nod. "Nadia," he murmurs. "Hi Gav," she purses her lips. Neither of them moved to hug each other, he just smiled sadly over at her.

    Phoebe clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably at the silence that fell amongst the three, "what did they say? You were there for awhile," she mutters.

    He opens the fridge, rummaging through and pulling out a bottle of beer, shrugging, "just a lot of bullshit— nobody down there will give me a straight answer to anything i've asked," he grumbles. He sounded defeated, Nadia definitely noticed that. "I'll come with you tomorrow," the Kennedy girl murmurs, and her brother nods slowly. "Yeah sure."

Her brother doesn't say anything else before leaving the room, closing the kitchen door behind him, grumbling something under his breath that neither of the girls seemed to catch.

Phoebe purses her lips, glancing up at the brunette who was chewing on her bottom lip. "I think it's been a long day i'm sure he'll catch up with you tomorrow," the red head tries to reason. "It's fine, I didn't expect him to say much anyways," Nadia shrugs.

The Sinclair girl sends her a sad smile, "he did miss you, the two of them never shut up asking about you."

She wished it brought her more peace in hearing that.

And her next words were probably a lot harsher than she meant them, rising up from the kitchen table, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Then they should have called."

"—i'm going to go and shower," she adds quietly.

It was then as Phoebe Sinclair stared after her realised Nadia's grief was horribly discreet, only because it was disguised by rage. At who she wasn't sure. But it was there. And if nobody helped her soon she was positive it would suffocate her.

bellas thoughts//
Phoebe Sinclair you will always be loved by me🥹