Unwritten Pages

I watch the dirt being poured over. Until there's nothing left. Until there's nothing but dirt.

So this is it. This is truly it. She's gone.

Arianna is sobbing hysterically, with Con's arms around her. Desiree is crying too—though she's not sobbing. But she's very close to sobbing. Because she's shaking—like that time in the girl's bathroom.

I had wanted to hold her first, but Drew had beaten me to it. Also, Desiree doesn't look as if she wants my company. I'm almost sure that she'll push me away or do something similar if I try to hold her.

“Why did she have to go?” Arianna asks. Con holds her tighter.

I think about Drew's words.

“So if her death can be blamed on someone, it would be me.”

I wonder what Drew has done. It must have been bad. Maybe he knows the reason why Winter committed suicide.

I look at the sky—the cloudless blue sky. Why is everything so beautiful? Why is there something beautiful about something so dark?

Out of all the students, only us, the people that actually know Winter, are standing by her grave. Everyone else is lingering closely, watching us. Or—socializing with their friends.

I see a lot of annoying girls socializing with their friends. Wouldn't they care? No—of course not. They didn't know Winter. The end. What would they do if their best friend had died?

I wonder if some of them have the nerve to say that some speeches were boring.

People can be cruel, insecure, stupid and pathetic.

I sigh and kick the grass around me. The green is so lush. Now I'm wondering why the cemetery is so...cheery and bright.

Now this cemetery doesn't even look appealing anymore. It's something beautiful from something so dark. It makes sense to be buried in a creepy and dark cemetery now. That actually symbolizes death—whereas here, it's so nice. Something beautiful for something horrible.

My parents aren't speaking to me yet. I know they're still upset about the Liane thing. But I don't care. I keep looking at the grave. Winter's name is engraved on the tomb.

I kneel down by the tomb and I trace my finger over the strokes of her name.



I don't know why that quote is engraved in the tomb. It's one of Winter's favourite quotes—I get it. But I don't think it has anything to do with Winter's death.

It's a quote from 'Romeo And Juliet'. It's one of Winter's favourite plays. She finds the romance intriguing. I find it kind of...odd. But interesting enough. Two feuding families—a pair of star-crossed lovers. What more can an audience want?

I stand up. I drop my phone on the grass. Luckily—it's grass and not cement, so it doesn't break. But I swear anyways and pick it up to check for cracks on the screen.

There are no cracks that I can see. Just in case—I run my hands down the screen. Smooth. I assume that there are no cracks.

Before I can slip it into my pocket, Arianna catches sight of it. Not that she hasn't seen my phone before.

“Oh,” she says, “Andrew, I called you earlier, but you didn't pick up.”

I remember the phone call that led me to listening to Winter's music. I look at the grave suddenly as I think of the songs she's composed...before her death. The hidden meanings that I couldn't decipher yet.

“Sorry, I was spacing out at the time you called,” I say.

“I needed to tell you something. Well—give you something. I have it at home. Maybe tomorrow?”

Con gives me a suspicious look. I shrug, because I don't know what Arianna is talking about. “Sure.”

I turn away from the stone. I don't want to look at it anymore. It's like this...thing...that just shoves the fact that Winter is truly gone in our faces.

I almost bump into someone as I turn.

“Sorry,” I mutter. I try to move past them but they stand and block my way. I scowl and look up with irritation. I hope it's not Liane.

A guy about my height stands before me. He has a lazy smirk on his face. He had blonde hair and a pale complexion like he doesn't have enough oxygen or something.

I don't know this guy, but his face strikes some kind of memory. I squint at him. “Yes?”

“Hey, Andrew,” he says. I'm not surprised that he knows my name. In fact, doesn't everybody that attended this funeral know my name? I'm almost like a celebrity now.

“Hello,” I say.

“My, my. Aren't you getting formal and classy?” He smirks at me.

“Just who are you, may I ask?”

“Still formal,” he says thoughtfully, almost to himself. “Won't you mind being a little more harsher and laid back as you were before the whole fiasco?”

I only have a vague idea of what he is talking about. “What do you want?” I ask. My patience is wearing.

There's a moment of silence as he thinks. Then he looks at me and say, “Avery.” The way he says it makes me think like it's an inside joke.

I frown, because I don't think I've ever known an Avery in my life. That is, until, a memory comes crashing into my mind like a tidal wave.

“Avery,” I say slowly, testing the name on my lips. “Avery... Your nickname.”

He holds out a hand to me, grinning like an idiot. I don't shake it. He drops his hands and stuffs them in his pocket.

“Glad you still remember, Andrew,” he says. “Or do you just remember my name and face?”

“You're not my friend,” I say bluntly. He gives a look of mock hurt. “I don't have friends like you.”

“And I don't have friends like you either,” he says simply. “And your speech—sometimes you're a little too formal, you know that right? It's like I'm talking to an old woman—sorry, man. But that Winter chick has gotten you to lose your balls, hasn't she? And that Desiree chick too? Man, you're in deep.” Avery laughs.

“You're not funny,” I say. “I don't think you're funny at all. What do you want, really?”

“I'm here to help,” he says slyly.

“Help?” I ask incredulously. “With what?”

“Death, you know. Same old, same old, but different situation.” Same old? I didn't understand what he was talking about. Wait... He didn't mean...

“Oh the drugs,” Avery moans, as an imitation of my voice. “So bad for me! Thank God Winter saved me! On a cold winter's day! And I got to meet the greatest girl of my life and have the best sex with her—Desiree Lilian.”

I scowl. “I didn't say that,” I protest.

“Oh, so you're getting a little touchy, am I right? Poor you. Wait—are you just too shy to tell me about your magical night with this Desiree chick?” He laughs again. I use to think he was funny—he was the joker of my gang, after all. But now, I just think of him as plain annoying.

“Shut up,” I say bluntly. “I'm not like that.”

Avery falls in shrieking laughter as God knows what runs through his mind. Some people turn to look at us. I give him a disgusted look.

“Not like that,” he wheezes. “My, isn't that hilarious!”

I say what's on my mind. “I use to think you were hilarious too. Now I know why—you're pathetic. I find it quite humorous.”

“'Quite humorous',” he mimics. “Old woman, shape up and grow your balls back.”

I'm getting tired of Avery. So I ask him straight out, hoping he'll answer properly this time. “What do want?”

“Oh, just to offer something.”

“Get to the point,” I tell him.

“It's something beautiful,” he says. “Amazing, fabulous, extreme, sexy, the turn-you-on kind of things—”

“Just tell me what it is.”

“Meth,” he says. He smiles, teeth showing. I know what Meth is, I'm not stupid.

“I don't want it,” I say immediately. “I don't need it. I'm not suffering the drawback again. I'm not suffering the drugs again. I'm not throwing myself at the drug's mercy. It has no mercy. It's...” I look for the word. Winter's song runs through my head. “It's a dark betrayal.”

“A dark betrayal,” Avery muses. For a second, he looks almost intelligent. But immediately, it's gone. “Nice string of words. Who taught you that? Your girlfriend, Desiree? Oh wait, she isn't your girlfriend anymore.”

I narrow my eyes. “How do you know?” If Avery has got this information, I'm sure everybody must know.

“Look over there. Drew, Desiree. Enough said,” Avery says to me, “and the next thing: Liane Chau. A useful little girl, isn't she? Sexy, hot bod, and amazing in bed—” I hope up my hand before he can say anymore. I don't need these words to pollute my mind.

“Alright, alright! So do you agree?” Avery asks.

“To Meth?”

“Yep. And I can give you good reasons. Meth is one of the world's most beautiful drugs.” By the way Avery is talking about it—entranced and looking almost dreamy, it doesn't take a genius to know that he's addicted. Meth is one of the world's most beautiful drugs, I know. I've seen people who have used it before. They almost persuaded me to use it. Almost. But I know that kind of drug will...destroy me. The drug is dangerous.

“Something beautiful,” Avery whispers. “I know you're suffering so much in your life. I mean, look at it, will you? Your bitch girlfriend broke up with you and your best friend is dead.” He says this so casually, it takes all my will not to strangle him or something.

“Don't call her a bitch,” I say, with a threatening tone to my voice. Avery backs up a bit and holds up his hand in surrender.

“Chill, dude. Take it easy. I'm just offering something.”

“I don't want it,” I say, “why should I take it?”

Apparently, Avery thinks this is a question that I want answered. So he goes on about it before I can stop him. “Oh, it's a beautiful thing, really. It can help you... It can help you fight the emptiness, the loneliness, the hurt... It can... It can block everything. It can make you happy, just like life was for you.” Is it just me, or do I hear some sort of bitterness in his voice?

This may have sounded appealing to me a long time ago. I couldn't care less about the drugs now. “I don't want it,” I say forcefully.

Avery shrugs. “Whatever you say.” He doesn't turn away though. He reaches in his pocket and grabs something out quickly and stuffs it in my pocket.

“What—”

“Free sample,” Avery says. “Just in case. And if you want more of those, I'm your man.”

I scowl, I don't want 'free' samples. I know that if I take this, I'll probably be begging for more. In some way, this sample is really free at all.

“Just keep it!” Avery says. “Just keep the bag! I wanted to keep it to myself, but hey, I have to be nice to my old friend too.”

“Why now?” I ask, “you've turned your back on me a long time ago.”

Avery smirks. “I have my reasons,” he says. “Anyways, I'm leaving now. See ya, loser,” he says. He hurries away before I can say anything.

I frown. Avery seemed to have some sort of insanity in his eyes, just before he left. Some sort of craziness...and desperation. I know he takes drugs. But he's never looked like that for all I've known him...

I shake the thought of Avery out of my head. Whatever he's doing, it's his problem. I have no part in what he's doing to himself.

I reach a hand in my pocket and feel the smooth zip-lock bag underneath my fingers. I feel like I have a gun in my pocket.

Something beautiful, Avery had said.

Something beautiful...

And just as deadly...