Formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
I JUMPED at the sound of the second gunshot, smacking my head on the top of the wooden desk. Covering my head with trembling hands, I tried to block out the noise, but the shots grew more erratic. They were close. I knew it because the screams were so clear. How was this happening? Things like this didn’t happen in our small town.
My heart thumped against my chest so hard that I was waiting for it to burst out and land on the dingy linoleum floor in front of me. I glanced to the girl next to me, crawled into a ball with tears streaming down her face while her body rocked back and forth. Were we going to be next?
Holding in a deep breath, I slowly stretched my arms above me and reached around until I felt the rough leather of my purse strap. I dragged it down and ignored the items flying out as it bounced on the floor. My hands frantically searched through the contents for my phone and when I found it, I kept hitting his name until I heard the ringing come alive on the other end. I had to talk to him. I needed to hear his voice and be sure the screams weren’t his.
HIGH SCHOOL Shooting Kills Twenty Students And Teacher.
Those words were on the headline of every news channel, website, and newspaper until the shock value wore off and some celebrity got busted banging his nanny.
Those eight life-ruining words.
My brain processed them over and over again but my heart tossed them out to the birds. That one small sentence signified the dead end to my road of happiness. It shattered every ounce of hope built up in my heart, then stabbed it a few more times for good measure.
The most important person in my life had been ripped away from me by selfishness and pride. Rodney Avila. I would remember the name until I took my last breath. He was upset his girlfriend broke up with him. Out of spite and pure insanity, he decided to take his dad's pistol with him to school. Heading directly to his ex’s first period class, he shot her and everyone else in the classroom. His homicidal spree ended with him turning the gun on himself, which was smart on his part, because if the spineless bastard were still alive, I would’ve taken it upon myself to kill him.
I blinked, fixing my eyes on the daunting building looming just yards away from me. My body shivered as the frigid raindrops showered down my body, soaking my dress and causing it to cling to me like a second skin. The weather had matched my mood impeccably: gloomy, cold and depressed. My hair I spent hours on earlier was now a sopping mess plastered to each side of my face. I couldn't see it, but I was certain the black mascara my trembling hands had applied earlier was now running down my face alongside the never-ending tears, leaving streaks down my stinging cheeks.
Bodies veiled in black passed by my stationary body, heading towards the very place I was trying to avoid. A few bumped into me, but I was too numb to be affected. My body didn't belong to me at the moment. The scrawny legs connected to my torso felt like they were glued to the slippery pavement beneath me. Out of habit, I reached up and caressed the tiny pendent dangling around my neck for what seemed like the millionth time that day. My icy hands moved back and forth around the chain sluggishly, letting the noise of the storm drown out the faint voices passing by.
I knew what everyone wanted, and it wasn't going to happen.
I couldn't do it and I wouldn't do it.
They wanted me to come in from the downpour and see him. My eyes fluttered shut, deflecting the heavy drops as I inhaled the strong scent of rain surrounding me. If I did what they wanted, if I stepped through those brooding doors, I would have to say goodbye to the person to the person who still owned my heart.
I swiped a falling tear off my face. This wasn't supposed to happen until we were grey and old. It wasn't his time and I damn sure wasn't ready to let him go.
Chilly fingers wrapped around my arm and broke me away from my trance. My entire body flinched, pulling away from the source and I looked at the culprit standing in front of me. She was gripping a bright red umbrella in one hand and her mouth was open wide, screaming at me.
"Please listen to me!" she shouted, begging. "GO SEE HIM!" My best friend, Tessa screamed. "You will regret this the rest of your life if you don't do this, Daisy! Please just do it!" Her lanky hand kept reaching out for me, but I kept up my childish game of pulling away. Being dragged across the pavement facedown sounded better than coming to terms with the fact that I would never be waking up from the nightmare that had now become my real life.
My lips parted, but my mouth was incapable of forming words. I stood there staring at her while her begging grew more frantic in an effort to gain my attention. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a larger pair of hands grabbed me by my waist firmly, hoisting me into their strong set of arms. "Let go of me!" I wailed, kicking my feet against him but gaining no advantage. The rain poured down on us faster and my eyes widened at the realization of where we were headed.
No.
Hell no.
Hell to the fucking no.
I screamed, kicked and punched with all my will. Nothing. The more I fought back, the faster his pace picked up until finally my body quit producing the energy to fight. Whimpering, I laid limp in his arms, ready to give in to the inevitable. Warm air hit my face first and I twisted around, burying it in the crook of his neck to hide from the curious looks coming my way. I didn't look up until I heard the loud creak of a door opening and suddenly, I was being tossed onto a cold couch in the corner of a dusty room.
"Get your head out of your fucking ass," a dripping, wet Dawson sneered over my shaking body. His black suit was wrinkled and soaked to his body.
I winced at his words but it helped loosen the tongue that had been tied for days. Sure, the person standing in front of me might have been my dead boyfriend's best friend, but his hurt could never match mine.
"Screw you, Dawson!" I cried out, struggling to control the shakiness in my voice. "Don't you even dare try to tell me what the hell I should do!" I tugged on my frizzy locks, pulling them together and sliding my hands down them roughly to wring out the water.
"Well, shit Daisy," he yelled back, bringing out both hands and gesturing towards me. "Someone needs to say something. You're about to miss the entire funeral because you're being fucking selfish!" He paced back in forth in front of me. "How do you think Tanner would feel about how you are acting?" He stopped, mid-stride, narrowing his chestnut-colored eyes at me. My heart dropped at his name but I knew Tanner would understand my reluctance. The man I was in love with would've grasped my hesitation, aware of how hard it would be for me to see him like that.
Dead.
In a casket.
That wasn't the last image I wanted to remember of him. I wanted to treasure our last goodbye- when he kissed me in the hallway and told me how much he loved me.
I snapped, jumping to my feet and leaving a wet spot on the couch behind me. "Don't try to tell me how Tanner would feel," I replied, my voice harsh. "I've known him my entire life. Since the day I was born!" I paused, swiping away the soggy hair falling in my eyes. "You've known him for what?" I stopped, waiting for him to answer my question, but he remained silent. "Four years," I shouted, answering my own question. "So you can shut the hell up!" A shaky finger stabbed him in the chest at my last words.
My emotions had been on overdrive since everything had happened. Not one word I had just said processed through my brain before I allowed them to leap straight out of my mouth into the open. It was a low blow. Everyone, myself included, knew that Tanner loved Dawson like a brother. They were best friends and I was a shitty person to devalue the friendship they had.
My chest heaved in and out, my breathing growing shallower. Dawson and I stood face-to-face, having a stare down, neither one of us making a move or spewing out words in our defense.
He was the first to give up at the exact moment his eyes began to glaze over. Shaking his head, he threw up his hands in defeat and shuffled backwards away from me. "Wow," was the only thing that came out of his mouth, but it was enough to let me know I stepped over the line and his patience with me had been extinguished. He whipped around, opening up the creaky door and slamming it shut behind him.
Regret crashed through me and I belatedly took in what had just happened. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the carpeted floor. My body tensed up at the feeling of a warm body beside me, wrapping me in their arms. I shook my head in embarrassment and she pulled me into her arms tighter while we both attempted to let our hurt out together.
I cried for the person I lost. I cried for his family and my best friend beside me who lost her twin brother. I cried for the other families who lost a child, a brother or a friend in the shooting. I was certain my tear ducts were close to falling out from excessive flooding.
"I miss him, too," the girl I had been inseparable from my entire life whispered gently into my ear. “We will get through this together."
A soft knock came from the other side of the door and before I had a chance to tell the person to go away, the door crept open. My mom appeared in the doorway and shut it behind her. The first thing I noticed was how her red, puffy face fell when she took in the scene before her. Her knuckles flinched, clutching the tissues that were balled up in her hand as she let out a light whimper.
Tessa was the first to get up, reaching her hand out for me to grab. Running my hands down the length of my dress, I tried to get rid of the wrinkles, but it didn't help. The dress was ruined, but I didn’t care. It had a scheduled meeting with my fireplace as soon as I got home.
The sound of my mom clearing her throat broke the uncomfortable silence. "Sweetie," she said, gently, looking straight at me. "They are getting ready to start the service." My eyes immediately dropped to my shaking hands studying the chipped pink nail polish on my fingernails. I gave her a slow nod. Nodding and shaking my head had become my regular form of communication since that day. I had practically become a mute with the exception of the bitchy outburst I just gave Dawson.
"Okay," I mumbled, drawing the word out. "Can you two just give me a minute alone, please?"
"Of course," my mom answered, squeezing out a fake smile. "But you only have a few minutes." Turning around, she left the room and Tessa followed her, stopping briefly to squeeze my hand before closing the door.
With the room empty, I stumbled back towards the couch, sinking into the hard cushions. My fingers were still shaking as I fished out the now slightly damp, folded paper in the pocket of my jacket. I swallowed the nausea creeping its way up my throat and carefully unfolded the note.
Tanner,
This is the best way I knew to tell you goodbye. I hope that's okay with you. I remember you always loved the letters and notes I would write you during our free periods. I even decorated the corners with the tiny hearts like I did in middle school. I wanted you to be the only person who heard my goodbye; not all those people sitting in the room next to me. This is our goodbye - just for the two of us.
I have spent all of today missing you and I know that's how I'll spend tomorrow and the next and the next. I don't know how I am going to get through everything without you by my side. I've never had to do anything without you and I'm terrified. I'm scared, god, I'm so scared. All of our plans, our dreams, have been ripped into shreds and thrown into a blazing fire.
I can't stop thinking about all of those talks we used to have laying face down and holding each other's hands. Our huge wedding in your parent's backyard before our honeymoon in Tahiti and our future kids we were suppose to have. You know that would have been a handful, but you would have been an amazing father. And husband. We would have had a great life together.
Everyone keeps telling me I am going to have to move on with my life but I have no idea how to even start. I remember when I first told you I love you and you said, "there’s no taking it back." I never actually thought about how much those words meant to me until this very moment. I will never take it back. You will also have my heart.
I'm sorry. I am so sorry and if I could take it back I would. I cannot wait until I see your smiling face and we meet again.
I love you,
Daisy
The words grew blurry as I dragged my finger across the paper, and quickly folded it back in its square before securing it back in my pocket. The heels of my shoes sunk into the carpet as I lifted myself up and tried to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.
I was seventeen years old and I was going to say goodbye to the love of my life. I had been shattered to pieces and I knew the shards would never fit back in the same mold. But that wasn't the worst part, no. I might not have pulled the trigger but I could have stopped the bullet from hitting him.
5 Months Later
THE VOICE blared through the speakers above my head and woke me up from my sleepy haze. My mouth opened wide, yawning, and I wiped the dried up slobber from the side of my face. Reaching my arm behind my back, I struggled to massage the heavy tension spreading from my neck down to my back. The pill I had taken earlier to help me relax was starting to wear off, forcing my anxiety to resurface.
God, I loathed flying.
Admittedly, it was only my second time flying, but it was the first time doing it alone. Last time, I had Tanner by my side, holding my hand and distracting me from my crazy, paranoid thoughts. Let's just say I've watched Final Destination one too many times. Quick fact: I absolutely, with every fiber in my tiresome body, hated heights. Memories rushed through my mind of the time Tanner had somehow convinced me into going to Lake Monroe with him and his friends to go cliff diving. The name alone sounded painful. I remembered how proud I was of myself when I made it to the top of the cliff. It was a different story, however, when it was time to do the actual jumping part. I did the wrong thing. I did what everyone tells you not to do. I looked down. My feet locked up, instantly changing their mind about sending my body tumbling down a cliff. Tanner ended up having to carry me back down.
My eyes squeezed shut. Why were my memories of him so bittersweet? I wanted to bear hug them but strangle those bitches at the same time. They gave me instant gratification but broke me down in the end.
Needing to get my mind on something else, I fetched my backpack under the seat and pulled out of my iPod. Music had seemed to be my coping mechanism lately. My foot tapped gently against the floorboard and I unwrapped my headphones, sticking one in each ear. Just as my finger was ready to tap the play button, a stern voice stopped me.
"Excuse me, miss." I looked up to see an older flight attendant giving me a generic smile. "All electronic devices need to be shut off at this time," she instructed, in a robotic voice. I nodded in response and drug the headphones back out of my ears. So much for that idea.
They had completely shut down the entire high school as a crime scene the day after the shooting, giving us summer break to mourn then transferring us into neighboring schools across the county. At my new school, everyone knew what had happened to me. The hushed whispers and pitying stares that followed me down the hallway drove me senseless. But they were nowhere near the humiliation of breaking down in full panic attack mode during class in front of everyone. Multiple times. One second I would be calculating an algebra problem and the next, I would turn into a sobbing mess cradled into a ball on my chair. After the fifth attack, the whispers turned into insults. Freak, weirdo, crazy; I heard it all.
Somehow, I managed to survive two long, excruciating weeks before I refused to go back. In actuality, I refused to do almost anything. I wasn't eating regularly and had suddenly become a recluse on autopilot.
Every single person in my life got cut out while I spent my days hidden in my bedroom. Phone calls and texts went ignored, even Tessa’s. I tried to keep my promise of being a strong shoulder for her to lean on but I couldn't stand to be around her. She was a con
stant reminder of what I lost and anytime she was around, the knife that had been lodged into my heart would twist an inch deeper.
And my poor parents, they tried everything. They sent me to the local therapist in town who attempted to get me to "open up and allow myself to heal." I wasn't ready to do either of those things. What Tanner and I had together was something special that belonged to just the two of us. If I told other people, it would be like handing over another piece of him and those pieces had already started dwindling down day by day. I didn't want to be the person dragging my family down the road of depression with me but I wasn't sure how to hit the brakes and heal.
Four nights ago, my dad called me down to the living room. A trace of nervousness followed me down each stair. I saw my mother first and tears were pouring down her porcelain face. Her hands were latched into my dad’s, whose face was blank.
Uh oh. Not good.
My dad motioned to the chair across from them and I took that as my cue to sit down. His throat cleared and he leaned forward, planting his elbows on his kneecaps. "Your mother and I have been talking," he said, in a voice he only used when he was dressed in his sheriff suit, letting me know that he was serious. "We think it might be a good idea for you to get away from here for awhile." Whoa. My head shot up and I felt like someone had just sucker punched me in the gut.
My mouth stayed shut, waiting for him to elaborate before I started screaming out my refusal. "We have also talked to your therapist and she agrees with us," he added, like that was supposed to make me feel better. A disgusting taste of bile slithered its way up my throat and I quickly swallowed it back down.. Tears started flowing as their intentions sunk in.
"I can't just leave here!" I shouted. "Tanner is here!" Blinking, I tried to stop the imminent tears but failed. My parents grew blurry through my vision and I watched the hazy silhouette of my mom rising from the couch and taking the few steps towards me.
Beneath Our Faults Page 1
