Without Her

It is not your fault. It is not your fault. It is not your fault. I repeat those words to myself constantly, yet I can never believe them. I turn over and glance at the clock on my bedside table. The bright red numbers tell me it is 2 a.m. I have been lying in the darkness of my bedroom for over three hours, but somehow I still cannot fall asleep. I mean, I guess I should expect that considering I have not managed to sleep more than four hours a night this past month. I should be used to it by now, but I am not. Tomorrow is my first day of eleventh grade, and I have to start it without her. Without Aria. It also happens to be the one-month anniversary of her death. Tonight I will be lucky if I can sleep at all.

By 5 a.m., I give up on any hope of falling asleep. I climb out of bed and open the blinds, allowing the dim light of the stars to shine into the room. I have always loved the stars. Since I do not have to start getting ready for an hour, I crawl back into bed and open my phone. I open Instagram, and the first thing I see is a post dedicated to Aria. There are a bunch of photos of her smiling. I close the phone immediately and bury my face in my pillow. My hands start shaking, and I want to scream. Everything I wish I could say to her rushes through my mind so quickly that I can hardly breathe. A rush of coldness sweeps through me, and I start feeling numb. The shaking stops, and I lie there staring at the ceiling of my room for what feels like an eternity. I hate when this happens. I hate thinking of her. Most of all, I hate knowing things could have been different. Somehow I manage to pull myself together and reluctantly climb out of bed.

I quickly get ready for school and leave the house twenty minutes earlier than I usually would. I did not want to run into my mom before I left. Last night we argued about my going to school. I begged her to let me stay home; I tried everything to convince her, but she would not relent. She told me I needed to stop moping and get out of the house. "You only knew her for like a year. Were you guys even that close?" That sentence is engraved in my mind. It hurts to think of the fact that my mother barely knows me at all. She has always been busy at work trying to support me and my six-year-old brother, so I guess I cannot blame her, but it still hurts. How could she expect me to be fine after losing someone who meant everything to me? Someone who understood me like no one else. Someone who I never thought I would lose so soon.

The school day is torturous. Since it is the first day, we do not do anything of importance. Teachers introduce themselves and hand out course outlines. None of my friends are in my morning classes, so I do not see any of them until lunch. I sit at our usual table, but today there is one less person there. Kris and Tori are already sitting there discussing their summers. We have all been friends since I moved here at the beginning of grade ten. "Hey, Kiara!" Tori exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Hi, guys," I reply, trying to sound happy to see them.

"Kris and I were just talking about the party last week. I texted you about it. Why did you not go?" she asks.

"Oh, I had a headache," I reply. She and Kris go back to their conversation. I stare at them in disbelief. I do not understand how they have the energy to socialize and go to parties. How do they manage to feel normal after what happened? I guess they are not the ones responsible for her death, but I still expected them to seem a little upset. No one brings Aria up, so I do not either. I zone out of the conversation and focus on the food in front of me. I pick at my salad, but I do not have an appetite. I miss Aria sitting next to me. No matter what, she was always able to make me laugh. When my dad died, she was the first person I told. She was the only person I wanted to talk to. Everything just felt easier with her.

I somehow manage to make it through the day. I start to walk home from school, but I do not feel like going home. I end up wandering around until I somehow arrive at the beach. The beach where she died. The beach where Aria, my best friend in the entire world, killed herself. I find myself sitting on the edge of the same cliff she jumped from. The sun is just beginning to set as I write. Look down at the crystal-blue waves. The wind blows through my hair. I am consumed by feelings of grief, sadness, longing, anger, and, most of all, guilt. I hate myself for what happened that day. She told me she was struggling. She told me she was hurting herself. I saw all the signs, but I did nothing. She was the most amazing person in the entire world. She did not deserve to die like that, feeling alone. I knew she had problems at home, but I never imagined her killing herself. She was always there for me. Why was I not there for her? Why was I, not a good enough reason to stay? Did she even think about me before she jumped? I know the answer to that one. I was the last person she called before she died. Even worse than ignoring all the signs, I ignored her last call. I will never forgive myself for that. I begin to cry loud, ugly tears. My tears turn into screams. I must look crazy, but I cannot deal with it anymore. I do not want to live a life without her. I slowly stand up and walk right up to the edge of the cliff. I could be free of it all. I would never have to feel like this again. I could be at peace. I could be with her. I lift one foot into the air, preparing to launch myself off. I close my eyes. I am tumbling down, falling into the water, and then I am gone. I open my eyes and jump backward, terrified of my thoughts. I cannot do it. I still have my mom, my brother, Kris, and Tori. I do not want anyone else to feel the guilt I feel. No one should have to suffer with the thought that someone they love is gone because of them. At that moment, I realized that maybe

I would not have been able to save her.

That night, as I get ready for bed, I feel different. I lay down, and I start to think of Aria, but this time I do not try to fight the thoughts. I allow myself to remember her and appreciate all the good times we had together. I still have not forgiven myself. I am still not ready to live without her. But I am starting to accept the fact that nothing I do can change the fact that she is gone. For the first time in what feels like forever, I begin to fall asleep without guilt weighing down on me.