Pain

         “Jaz, you’re worrying me.”

               Kat is staring at me from her perch on my desk, and I can feel her gaze burning the side of my head as I resolutely ignore her to stare at my window. The sky is dark and thunder rumbles, shaking the house and my room. My eyes trace a singular rain drop as it scurries down the window, until it finally falls off the edge and into the thorny rose bush below.

               I shift in my chair and, still ignoring Kat, look at the plate of food I’d prepared myself earlier where it rests on the solid oak next to her. I don’t even remember preparing it, and I don’t know why I made a sandwich with tomatoes. I hate tomatoes.

               “I’m just not hungry,” I say, picking up the plate and walking out of my room. I know Kat’s disappointed. This isn’t the first meal I’ve skipped. I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. It’s not a long hallway, and only a few pictures hang from the light green walls, but I still feel like they’re watching – no, judging me as I walk through.

               I reach the kitchen and open a cabinet to grab a container. I turn around to see Kat’s green eyes radiating concern.

               I growl and stalk past her. She has no reason to be concerned. I put the sandwich into the container and then put it into the fridge. Maybe I’ll eat it later.

               Although she’s not speaking, I can still feel Kat behind me. I almost feel bad for ignoring her. After all, it’s my fault that… that she… but no. She shouldn’t be here. How did she even get here?

               “Did you walk over here in the rain?” I ask, leaning on the counter next to the fridge. Kat’s in the center of the kitchen, and I get the sense that she’s much smaller than she should be. She walks over to me, goes to take my hand, and aborts the movement. I’m glad that she does. She looks me in the eye, a small, sad smile taking over her features.

               “Do I look wet?” She asks, and I take a moment to look at her in more detail. Her hair’s not wet, nor are her clothes. She is still wearing her pink hoodie and jean shorts.

               “No.”

               “You know I didn’t walk.”

               “Did your parents drive you?” Somehow her face becomes even sadder, and she shakes her head and takes a step back.

               “No.”

               “Let’s go back to my room.” I just want whatever weird atmosphere that has taken over to go away. If we go to my room, maybe we can pretend that everything’s normal. Everything is normal. I go back through the hallway, and it seems longer than before.

               I sit back onto the chair and stare out my window at the azalea bush underneath it. I know without looking that Kat’s on my desk.

               “Jaz…”

               Something about the way she says my name sets me off. It’s sad again. Why is she so sad? Nothing is wrong! I stand abruptly from my chair and it scrapes the floor as I begin to pace, the sound echoing through the empty house.

               “I’ll eat something, okay?” I yell as I walk from the window to the door and back again. I want to run my fingers through my hair, but that would mean taking it out of its current bun. I don’t want to do that.

               “And sleep?” Kat asks, a watery tone to her voice. I stop in front of the desk and look at her. She’s looking at me, tears streaming down her face. Something in me cracks. I move even closer to her, crowding her to the point where I should feel her breathing on my face.

               “Yes, anything.” I say desperately, my voice cracking. I want to hug her, but I can’t. I know that I can’t. It kills me that I can’t. Far from comforting her, Kat begins to sob at my words, her slight frame shaking.

               “Please, don’t leave,” I say. I know it’s irrational. Where would she go? It’s pouring outside. But something in me, something primal and wise, is screaming at me to ensure that she can’t leave me again. I mustn’t be alone.

               “I have to, you know that.” Kat says, still shaking and obviously distressed, but no longer flooding my room with tears. Lightning strikes, lighting up the room and illuminating Kat. Suddenly, she changes. I almost don’t see it at first, but the longer I look the more I see. Her skin is paler than normal, wax-like and sickly. Her eyes are dull and almost filmed over, her lips are blue. I can see around the edges of her form, how it’s ragged and torn like the edges of her jean shorts. Her clothes are dirty, her hair is in disarray.

               “No… no!” I cry, stumbling backwards. “No, please no.” I can’t see through the tears filling my eyes, thankfully obscuring the vision of my best friend’s ghost from me. I can hear her crying, but it’s discordant and wrong now, notes coming out of a deflated instrument. It sounds like she’s underwater, and fear fills me at the prospect of her fading away.

               “You don’t understand,” I beg, falling to my knees with tears cascading down my face faster than the rain outside.              

 “We were supposed to grow old together! We were going to be roommates, and – and vet each other’s dates. You’re not supposed to be gone!” My sobs join Kat’s and I struggle to breathe through the all-encompassing pain tearing through my chest.

“Our children would have sleepovers every night... and you and I would go travel Europe together – you with your fancy French and me with my Spanish… there was never a future for me without you in it!” I curl up into myself, and I can’t stop the sobs clawing their way out of my throat. I look up at my desk to see Kat still there, forever young. Because of me.

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” I cry, snot coming from my nose and panic filling me as she gives a melancholic smile. She shakes her head and begins to fade.

“No!” I scramble up from the floor, nearly tripping over my feet. Kat’s disappearing too fast, and by the time I reach where she sits, my hands slam onto an empty desk. I bow my head, wanting to do nothing more than curl up and die.

As I stare at the puddle of salty tears forming on my desk, the wood starts to drain away. The somber blues and greys of my room are leaving me, and the sound of rain is a distant memory. I am left in a stark white environment, alone.

I’m in the place they left me to rot after The Incident. The place where I am likely going to stay for the rest of my life, the two murder charges playing right into their hands. The place where they told me how they had killed Kat, dumped her body into a pond, and then pinned the blame on me.

They wanted to break me.

And they did.