Schrei So Laut Du Kannst

Tom's Point of View [One Year Later]

"Hello?"

"Erin, why do you have Katy's cell phone?"

"She, uh, asked me to hold onto it so her dad didn't find it."

"How is she? We have not heard from her in so long."

"Um...where are you?"

"We are in your homestate."

"Then come to my house. I need to talk to you."

"Okay."

The four hours it took to get to Erin's house seemed to go by too slow; finally, we sat on her bedroom floor, Hershey having joined the group.

"How've you guys been?" A.E. asked, stalling the inevitable interrogation.

"Erin, how is Katy?"

"She's doing good now that she's not under her father's care."

"What do you mean?"

"Do I really have to say it?"

"Ja, bitte."

"She's...Tom, Bill, Gustav, Georg...she's, oh, God, she's dead. Her father beat her to death. The police got there too late."

Gustav hissed, "Oh, mein Gott."

"Has her funeral passed?"

"Yes. I'll take you to her grave if you want."

"Of course."

"Guys, I'm so sorry."

--------------------------------------------------------

I pressed my finger to the stone and began crying softly. My arm stung from the tattoo I'd gotten that day for her, but the external pain was not the cause for my tears. It was from the finality that the engravings symbolised. She was gone. The girl I came to love more than I could ever have cherished anyone else, was dead.

"Ich liebe dich, Katy."

HERE LIES

Katelyn Louise Michaels
a loving daughter and friend

5/2/1990 - 7/4/2007
Forever Missed, Never Forgotten