Tomorrow Is Never Clear

Pippa’s POV.

Did someone break your heart inside?

You’re in ruins.

The rhythmic steps of the coffin bearers echo through the silent church. Not a sound was to be heard but the beating of hearts and the click of shoes on stone. Music really is more than life; it’s death too. As if we didn’t already know that.

My hand tightened around Matts, as the movement of air from the coffin bearers ran down my spine. More tears escaped and I choked back a sob. My eyes feel swollen and sore and are, no doubt, red and puffy. Despite my greatest efforts, I haven’t stopped crying since the day Rachel died ... even thinking those words breaks my heart all over again.

Nothing’s built to last.

You’re in ruins.

Goose bumps prickled up my arms suddenly, causing me to jump in my seat. Matt looked at me with sympathy and concern glistening in his hazel eyes, the same look all the guys have had for nearly a week now. They don’t know what to do to help us. We don’t know what to do to help ourselves. We can’t drink this pain away. We can’t forget about it. The only thing we seem to be able to do is cry just as some form of output.

The minister was stood in front of the coffin, talking as if he knew Rachel, as if he actually cared that she didn’t deserve what happened. I’m sure he was a nice enough guy, but he can’t possibly understand what we’re feeling. He didn’t know her, what an impact she had on us all, and how we’ll never be able to replace her no matter how hard we try. Just thinking about it gave me goose bumps again and set off a new wave of tears. I could tell that our one pew was making the most noise.

Something inside this heart has died.

You’re in ruins.

The congregation stood as one for a moment of silence in which we tried to collect ourselves as well as reflecting on all the good times we had with Rachel; hot wiring her brothers car because he broke hers, so we could go to a party; standing on top of Sophie’s house whilst we were drunk and spitting on unsuspecting people who walked past; getting thrown in the drunk-tank on her eighteenth birthday and having our parents go mad at us. Those kinds of memories will all we have to keep a hold of her.

I walked slowly next to Matt, followed by the rest of my band and their respective partners. The stone walk way down the middle of the church stretched for what felt like miles. With every step, the coffin felt as if it were further and further away. When my feet finally came in contact with carpet I knew this would be the hardest thing any of us will ever have to do; let go of any hope, say goodbye.

Her cold, pale face looked so peaceful surrounded by blood red roses and white ribbon. She was just sleeping. A very long and deep sleep she had fallen into, but sleeping all the same. The other girls stood either side of me and we clasped hands in a row. And for the first time since we’d watched our best friend die, there were no tears. Maybe we’d all run out, or maybe this was the way we wanted to remember her; at peace finally and not in pain. So we too were at peace and, if only for a moment, not in pain.

My chest tightened and I was brought to my knees along with the two either side of me and the person they were also attached to. The guys were behind us and attempting to help us to our feet immediately, leading us away from the casket. A new knife stabbed and twisted in my heart at the realisation that I wouldn’t be able to get up and call her tomorrow and laugh about how we nearly lost her. None of us would be able to go and see her and take silly pictures of ourselves on her camera. We couldn’t decorate her wall with a rainbow of sharpies. This was the end.

Lay down your arms.

Give up the fight.

After every darkness, there is light.