Camille

Martin pushed the now closed casket along, trying to ignore the annoying squeaking of the wheels and the awkward silence between himself and his new boss.

"Cryin' shame," the elder man, Ed, muttered as they got to their final destination. "The only mourner, her pet cat."

Martin helped remove some of the frilly accessories as Ed sorted through the proper tools. "What do you mean? There were loads of people there."

"Meh," he replied, finally finding what he needed. "Paid their r'spects."

Martin didn't question it. This was one of the first burials he had to do and he didn't want to get on Ed's nerves.

The hole was regulation depth and her coffin was lowered down slowly.

"Nice gal," Ed said quietly. "Shame she 'ad to go that way."

"Suicide, wasn't it?"

Ed nodded, scratching his stubble subconsciously. "Mmhm."

Her coffin was finally in the ground and Ed grabbed a shovel first. "Less do our job, boy."

Martin paused and looked at his boss who seemed to be near tears. He finally gathered the courage to ask. "Who was she?"

Her gorgeous blonde locks framed her face like it usually did. Normally, he'd be awe-struck, but today, he was too livid to notice.

"You lied to me," he spat. He sat on the bed with his hands folded and his head hung.

"Tom," she started, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Tom, I'm so-"

He flinched away from her touch, eyes locking on the cuts on her arm. "Don't lie to me again. Don't tell me you're sorry when you're not."

She pulled her hand back and let it curl almost lifelessly against her chest.

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his curly strawberry blond hair. "I just can't believe that you cut yourself and wouldn't tell me."

The skinny girl dropped her hands to her side and felt her heart constrict with emotion. "You know how I work."

He threw his hands in the air, looking exceptionally frustrated. "Frankly, I'm beginning to think that I don't know how you work! I mean, I never thought you'd stoop so low!"

He finally stood and looked his girlfriend in the eye. "I think we both need a little space right now," he said quietly.

"Please don't leave me," she barely managed to whisper.

He shook his head. "I don't think I'll go that far yet."

She quickly looked down at her bare feet, observing the chipping Midnight Blue nail polish.

He acknowledged her silence, nodding once before leaving her alone in the room.

Once he was gone, she broke down crying. Her shaking hands fumbled over her mouth to quiet her sobs as she started to pace around the bedroom.

Her sadness slowly built into a rage. Not at Tom, but instead at herself.

As she continued to pace around the room, she gravitated towards the large ornate dresser. She neared the piece of furniture as her anger boiled over. She reached out with one hand, smacking the nearest object out of the way. The glass angel figurine flew across the room, colliding with the wall and breaking with a sickly-sweet smash that echoed slightly against the walls.

She fell to her knees as silent tears replaced her unattractive sobs. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost flinched back in surprise. Her slightly curly blonde hair caressed her face and shoulders as if she was in some kind of hairspray commercial. Her steel grey eyes cut through the paleness of her skin and her full eyelashes. Her cheeks, slightly flushed from all the excitement. The Spiderman tank top clung to her body and was stained with the tears the flooded from her eyes.

She hated what she saw staring back at her. "I fucking hate you!" she shouted at her reflection.

Movement in the corner of the mirror caused her to spin around. There, standing in the doorway was Tom. He looked almost heartbroken as he watched her.

"If that's how you really feel," he said quietly, moving out of her vision.

She sat there for a second, trying to process what just happened.

"Tom!" she breathed, not able to find her voice.

She quickly stood, sprinting out of the room, down the hall, and to the spiral staircase. She saw him at the bottom, grabbing his red bag as he continued on the path towards the door.

She took off after him, tears threatening to spill over once again. Down one flight of stairs, across the living room, and down one last flight until she finally reached the door which she threw open.

She ran down the sidewalk and stopped near the side of the road as Tom pulled away in his Forester.

"Tom!" she shouted after him.

The Forester turned the corner at the end of the street and out of her view.

She sank to the ground, bare knees complaining at the feel of the rough concrete on her skin. The sobs rocked through her, leaving her feeling drained and helpless.

After about a half hour of futile pleading, she was finally able to stagger into the house, where her cat, Meelo, greeted her. He rubbed against her leg, begging for her to distract herself by giving him affection.

Instead of giving in to his requests, she went back upstairs to her bedroom and threw herself on top of the Lavender-patterned comforter, continuing to cry over her lost love.

For who else did she have in her life besides Tom and Meelo?

Ed put in shovel in the pile of dirt and sighed as he lifted the covering, ready to throw it on the casket in the ground. "Camille."