❝ the life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. ❞

cicero

I'd rather have had the detectives questioning me than being alone in a room with my thoughts.  Was I going to go to prison? Was Damian going to prison? And in the back of my mind, a constant reminder: Avery Halloway is dead...dead...dead...

The door opened out of a sudden, making me jump. It was Nichole, her lips pressed together in a tight line. Judging by her dejected expression, I thought this was it. I was going to be arrested. But instead, she beckoned me to exit the room.

"That's all for today, Rosabel. We're sorry for the discomfort we've caused you." she apologised.

I sighed in relief and got up, wiping my sweaty palms on the material of my jeans. I followed her through the hallway as she kept silent.

"You believe me, don't you?" I asked her with a weak voice.

She pursed her thin lips and shook her head slightly.

"It doesn't matter what or whom I believe. If you and Damian are innocent, there's nothing for you to worry about."

She led me through the long corridor and I kept my head down, avoiding the curious looks of other officers. We entered an open room and I saw my parents seated on an old couch, holding each other. There was no sight of Damian or his father. As soon as they laid eyes on me, they leapt to their feet and hugged me tightly. Tears emerged to the surface again, but I shut my eyes tightly and swallowed, to keep them from streaming down my cheeks.

"Where's Damian?" I asked them after I pulled back.

My mother caressed the back of my head lovingly.

"Home, my dear." she answered. My dad gave her an ambiguous glance, but he didn't say anything. "Let's go. We all need to rest."

When I got home, I went straight to my room. I lay on my bed with my cat by my side, staring at the ceiling.

I didn't get up for four days.

***

I hadn't spoken to Damian since that day. He didn't call me, didn't text me, didn't try to look for me, and neither did I. I rarely got up from bed; I separated myself completely from my friends or anyone else. I had to go to the police station one more time for further questioning, but to my utter relief, detective Carter wasn't there. I was interrogated by Nichole and another placid policeman, who didn't make any incriminating remarks about me or Damian.

But I knew that my isolated lifestyle was ephemeral. Because on Friday was the funeral, and I'd have to face reality again. I'd have to face dozens of people, but I'll never look at them the same. Because there was a possibility, however small, however big, that one of them was the killer of Monica Anderson and Avery Halloway. Tragedy had descended upon us once again, and I couldn't help but wonder:

Who's next?

I slipped into my black lace dress. I didn't look good; I was wan and bleary-eyed, as though I just got out of a coma. The fact that I had trouble sleeping must have laid its shadow on me as well. I tried to conceal the dark circles under my eyes as much as I could, and bring some colour to my cheeks with blush. Avery would've wanted me to look good at her funeral.

I smiled with melancholy at that thought.

***

Ellie and I held hands for most of the funeral. Sometimes she'd squeeze my hand painfully, without meaning to, but I didn't say anything to her. Paul was with Avery's parents, and somehow, he managed to maintain a stoic face throughout the whole ceremony, though his eyes were imbued with such affliction it tore me apart. Almost the whole academy was there: teachers, students, their parents. Devon, Liam and Hayden were right behind us, all dressed in suits and sorrowfully watching the ground. No one talked; the atmosphere was permeated by an oppressive state of grief and overwhelming heartache.

I discerned two figures in the distance, observing everyone from afar. I recognised detective Nichole by her blonde hair and detective Henry by his short trimmed beard. Were they looking for the killer? Did they know who killed Avery?

I started being more aware of my surroundings, but there was no one who looked suspicious. No one whom I could see at least. I stared in the horizon, numbly and emptily, lost in my own thoughts.

"Bel?" a timid voice got me out of my trance after a while.

I turned to my best friend and saw that the cemetery was almost empty. The detectives were nowhere to be seen either. I looked around me and spotted Devon walking away with a brunette, Hayden and another boy from his class. He glanced in my direction and our eyes met.

 He was holding a lit cigarette between his index and middle finger, and he stopped suddenly. The brunette halted as well and asked him something, wrapping her arm around his torso. He didn't push her away; he gave me a cold stare and averted his sight, and kept on walking. His stony look twitched something inside me, as if it were a physical blow to my heart. But what was I expecting? A warm embrace? He must have thought that I had ignored his calls and texts on purpose, and although I'd told him we would speak the other day, we never did. And that was my fault.

"Rosabel. Are you okay?"

Gabrielle was watching me concerningly with her big teal blue eyes, her hand squeezing mine softly. Her light copper hair was braided into a fishtail braid and she had a straight black dress that accentuated her porcelain skin.

"As okay as I could be, given the circumstances. Why don't you go ahead? I'll be right there."

"No. I'll stay with you." she said.

"I want to be alone for a while. Please." I requested, squeezing her hand in return.

She hesitated for a moment, but she gave in soon. She nodded and made her way to the car.

I took a deep breath and approached Avery's grave. My eyes welled up with tears just by reading the epitaph on her tombstone.

Avery Halloway

2000-2017

GONE TOO SOON BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN

I cleared my throat and tried to say something, anything that would sum up how sorry I was. I didn't know if she could hear me; I didn't even know what to say. I stared at the inscription on her grave and at all the flowers around it emotionless, but my chin started to tremble and I was on the verge of crying. I didn't even want to cry, but tears kept on forming in my eyes.

"It's really unfortunate that we realise how much a person means to us only after we lose her."

I flinched and felt a presence behind me; a towering figure that could only belong to Damian. I could see from the corner of my eye his defined facial features, his luxurious hair blown by the winter breeze and his dark eyes fixated on me. I caught the scent of his perfume and felt warmth spreading in my veins.

 But as I pivoted on my heels to face him, a dejected smile tugged at my lips. It wasn't Damian; it was his twin brother, Joseph, in a dark green coat. His image, his perfume had been a simple mirage of my mind, for his aura was nothing like that of Damian. He emanated innocence and serenity, his light brown eyes beaming with nostalgia. He was beautiful and looked even younger in the morning light, which reflected specks of dark gold on the tips of his hair. He was holding four white roses in his hands.

I couldn't help but think that he was referring to me.

"It is. And how different we'd have done things if we knew how limited our time was with that person." I contemplated aloud, biting my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

He walked to Avery's tombstone and laid the flowers by it. He backed away until his forearm almost touched my shoulder.

"Our time is limited with everyone. Which is why we need to make sure that we make the best of it." he continued in a soothing tone. "We tend to forget that we're only mortal and nothing is eternal. Sometimes, we just need to hit pause, take a good look around us and focus on the things that really matter. Love more. Truly live." he gave me a sad smile. "Because in moments like these, all we wish is just a minute, just a minute more to tell that person how much we care about them, how we're sorry, how much they mean to us."

Tears streamed down my face like heavy rain. I wiped them aggressively, a sob escaping my lips.

"Make sure you don't choke." I uttered mechanically. "Those were my last words to her. No wonder she thought that I was an accomplice in Monica's murder. That says a lot about me, doesn't it?"

"It does. It says that you were angry and you're blaming yourself when you shouldn't. You can't go down this path, Rose." he affirmed with a serious face. He was the first to call me Rose in a very long time. I always told people that I didn't like when I was called that, but it sounded different when it rolled off his tongue. It sounded like something beautiful and melodic, something special. "Drowning yourself in guilt and regret won't lessen your pain. Trust me, I know."

"What will, then?"

"Nothing, to be honest. When you lose someone, they leave a vacant space in your heart. And no one can fill it back, because people are irreplaceable. But even that vacant space is a memory of them, and that's what gets you going: the fact that they're not gone completely. As long as you think of them, they're always by your side. They're a part of you. So you need to accept the pain. It's a remnant of them. "

"You're very wise." I remarked, enjoying the cold, refreshing wind in my face.

He delved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"I'm afraid not. I'm only very miserable." he confessed.

I watched him with a tinge of surprise, unsure of what to reply to that. We stood in silence for some time in the graveyard, and he was the one to break it:

"And so is Damian."

I stirred uncomfortably, gulping. The thought of him suffering made my stomach knot up. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, only to have it emerge again in my face.

"Why?"

"I guess he finally realized the seriousness of this all. The fact that his freedom is at risk. Except Ellie and I, no one else visited him. Not even dad. He refuses to pay bail, says Damian needs to be taught a lesson. But I'm actually really worried about my brother and his mental state."

Refuses to pay bail?

  I goggled at him bafflingly, feeling the skies crumble over me once again.

"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

"You...you really don't know, do you?" he asked me rhetorically. "Rosabel, Damian's been incarcerated. The police are building a case against him. Unless the bail is paid, he'll be transferred to a juvenile detention centre for troubled youth. Since you didn't come to visit him, he thinks that you gave up on him."

I exhaled sharply, unable to believe what he was saying. Why didn't my parents tell me? Why didn't Ellie tell me? Damian had been in prison this whole time and I had no idea. He was staying in a dark, stifling cell, without a proper bed, all alone.

"They arrested him? They can't do that!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Arresting someone without enough evidence is a violation of civil rights, isn't it? Damian's father could sue the police department and..." I trailed off, watching him hopefully.

He shook his head.

"He wasn't arrested for murder. He was arrested for assault on a police officer and apparently, withholding evidence."

I placed a palm on my forehead in distress. The news was so overwhelming I felt the need to scream in frustration.

"Assault?" I asked with a weak voice.

"He punched detective Carter Elliot and broke his nose in front of two other officers. It was right by the interrogation room you were in, by the way."

"That's all we needed right now." I sighed. "Can you take me to him?"

"Visiting hours are over. But we could go tomorrow, if you wish?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Joseph." I said with an appreciative smile. "But your dad's not actually going to let him get transferred to the detention centre, is he?"

"Uhh, well..." he bit his lower lip. Every gesture and movement of his was somewhat academic and winsome, unlike those of Damian, which were controlled and effortlessly graceful akin to a dancer's. "I think he is. My brother has gotten in a lot of trouble lately, with the teachers and other students and my father isn't the most tolerable individual. He also cares a lot about our family's reputation, and to some extent, he believes Damian tarnished it completely."

"Have you talked to him about it? Persuaded him to pay the bail?"

"I have. But he wouldn't listen to me, he never does. He's unwavering."

"I see. In this case, we need to resort to plan B." I informed him.

"I wasn't aware of such a plan." he uttered with a befuddled snicker.

"I just made it up." I shrugged my shoulders modestly. "Call your mother, Joe. Tell her it's time she came home."