Malum

Tillie

Seven. That’s how many people have asked me where Nate is. The next person who says his name, I’m going to punch straight in the face. We arrived back to Nate’s house a little over two hours ago, and since being here, Elena and Joseph have started arranging the house for visitors. I want to bring her home so all those close to her can say our final goodbye. Elena and Joseph agreed. Elena hasn’t stopped crying, and Joseph has a constant painful look in his eyes. I’ve been curled in the corner of the sitting room that overlooks the backyard and pool for the past hour, a bottle of Jack Daniels in hand. Alcohol has never been my go-to, in fact, I don’t drink much at all compared to other girls my age—friends included. I just need something. Anything to numb the everlasting pain that’s throbbing in my chest. But every sip I take, the more my feelings become heightened and the reality of everything comes crashing into me. I haven’t been into the pool house, and I won’t. So instead, I rummaged through Daemon’s clothes in his room to put on one of his hoodies, but Daemon owned suits, not hoodies. I grabbed a black velvet suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves slightly, treading back down to my spot. I can’t go into Nate’s room, that would mean seeing M—my daughter’s bed and items she had in there. I could go into Madison’s room, but she has locked herself in there since we got back. I don’t want to disturb her. I’ve never felt grief like this before. Daemon was the only person I lost who meant something to me, but even his death seems like the shallow end of the pool when it’s matched with this. My chest is hollow with nothing but a gaping hole where my heart used to be.

“Tillie?” Elena says, coming to sit beside me. She rubs my arm in an attempt to soothe the pain, and the very hurt side of me, which is every side, wants to laugh in her face and swear at her. But I don’t. I take another long pull of the whiskey instead. “She will be here soon. Would you like to come and wait at the entrance for her with us?”

I swallow the burning amber liquid that ignites my internal organs. If I swallowed a lit match, would I burst into flames?

I don’t answer. I stand. Because of course I will. I will do anything and everything I can until she is—I take another drink, brushing past Elena and heading for the front door. Their house resembles The White House, a modern-day plantation style home. There are around six large pillars that line the front of the wrap-around porch. It’s large enough to fit a small army.

When I step outside, I see Madison sitting on a swing seat, her legs pressed to her chest and her forehead resting on her knees, her shoulders shaking. My eyes flick up to Tate who is on the other side of the porch, her arms crossed around her stomach. Joseph takes Elena’s hand and tugs her under his arm where she loses herself and cries uncontrollably. A white Cadillac pulls up with a funeral home sticker on the side. It’s now that I realize Joseph had probably already organized everything for me. I take note to thank him later when I don’t feel like any sudden movement is going to rip the flesh off my bones. My eyes flick over the funeral car when I see Nate’s Audi R8 roll up behind, and then Brantley’s V8 behind that, and Bishop’s Maserati behind Brantley. There are also two black Range Rovers behind Bishop. It’s hard for me to be happy to see Nate, because I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel anything but pain, but I know I’m grateful that he’s here. Me second guessing him on it was unreasonable of me. They all climb out of their cars, but my eyes can’t move from Nate.

I can only make out the sharp edges of his sharp jaw because he’s wearing a black Nike hoodie and cap on his head, covering his face. He’s wearing dark ripped jeans and combat boots. His jaw is set in stone, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I know that I don’t want to. I don’t want to because the one thing, person, that Nate cherished and loved more than anyone in this world is now gone. I fear for what is going to be left of him now.

The boys go to the back of the hearse and the director steps away, sensing the sudden hostility. I step backward, my back crashing against the house. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. I watch as the boys surround the back of the car like a pack of loyal wolves, and then Nate pulls at something softly, and the small pink casket comes slightly into view. I burst into tears, my hand coming to my chest to rip my heart out so it can stop hurting. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this. I squeeze my eyes shut, and practice my breathing again, only when I open them, my eyes come straight to the sight in front of me. Nate at the front of the coffin, holding the top right, Bishop behind him holding the bottom right, Brantley at the top left, and then Cash behind him, holding the back. I’m too busy zoned in on the coffin, that when I look up to Nate, I freeze. He’s already glaring at me, the rim of his hoodie draped over the better part of his eyes.

His lip curls.

There’s my answer.

I shiver, straighten my shoulders and wait for them as they pass me and head into the house. I follow behind them until I reach the kitchen. I know that Elena said that they’ll keep her casket closed, because I pushed it. I don’t want everyone to have the last memory of her being what she is now. I want them to remember her bright smiles.

Heading straight for the sitting room, the boys have already placed her small casket onto the stand, for a moment, I test my control, my eyelashes fluttering closed. I can’t contain the pain anymore. I can’t do anything. I know that this is a time to be strong, but I feel like I’m walking around soulless. A mask of absolute tragedy. Everyone is watching me, waiting for my reaction. I hate it. Despise it. She was the one person I had in my life who was a constant. She was my forever. I step backward, shaking my head as my heart seizes in my chest. I back into something hard and arms come around my stomach.

“Come sit down.” Brantley’s voice utters into my ear. He takes my hand with his and drags me toward the over-sized U-shaped lounge that has been moved to face the casket. Brantley takes a seat and then yanks me down beside him. My eyes go to Nate, who is sitting beside the coffin, his elbows resting on it and his hands buried over his face. He doesn’t move. He stays in that position. Stationary.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

When Brantley doesn’t answer, I look directly at him. His face is an inch away from mine, his warm breath cascading over my swollen lips.

He licks his and then bites down. “You won’t. It will always be there, but it won’t always hurt this bad.”

“Bullshit, Brantley.” I take my eyes away from his, back to Nate. He’s laying his head on the casket now, his head facing the opposite way to us. “I’m scared for him.”

Brantley leans back on the sofa, his arm coming behind me. “You should be.”

Madison and Bishop walk in and come sit beside me. Madison’s hand rests on my knee. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing will be nice,” I answer, sick of talking and answering questions.

“Okay,” she whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do the burial tomorrow?”

I nod, my face blank. “Yes.”

I shoot up from the couch and make my way into the kitchen. I start rustling through the cupboards in search of an old friend.