Stole

It was weird being back here.

I pull my jacket close to me as my parents and I make our way back to Forrest High School. It was eerily quiet. Crime Scene tape is still up and I can still smell the faint scent of blood; but that could be my mind playing games with me.

My father’s right hand is on my shoulder while his left arm is wrapped around my crying mother. She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to come back to the place her son died. But the grief counselor said this would be good for us, for everyone. But, honestly, I feel worse. Maybe it’s survivor's guilt but I feel like I shouldn’t be here. At least not yet. I’m not at that place to be here.

Morgan, my brother’s girlfriend, comes over to us. She immediately pulls my mother into a hug and they melt into a crying mess. Part of me wants to join them and cry but part of me can’t bring myself to cry. I’ve never been the crying type, you know?

“You okay?” My dad asks me. “We can go home if you want. You shouldn’t have to relive that day.”

“I need to be here.” My voice is shaky but I have to keep myself pulled together. “We’re doing a light vigil. Paper lanterns, each one with a name of a victim. I need to be here to celebrate their lives. I owe them that.”

“You don’t anyone anything, baby girl.” My dad sternly tells me. “Why torture yourself by being here? You’re clearly not fine. You’re having nightmares or are barely sleeping.” I open my mouth to say something but I’m quickly cut off by my dad, “and don’t tell me that you’re not having nightmares. I hear your whimpering and screaming. Last night I stayed in your room for three hours trying to comfort you. I know you aren’t sleeping.”

“If it wasn’t for some of those people, I wouldn’t be here today.” I remind him. “I’d be with Mike and not with you and Mom.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He angrily states. “Becca, you made it out alive because it wasn’t your time. God’s plan for you isn’t done.”

“And Mike’s is?” I yell, voice edging on the hysterics. “Your son died in there and you think that’s part of God’s plan?” At this point Mom and Morgan are watching us. “Kids died here four days ago. They had their whole lives ahead of them and you think this was part of God’s plan for them. They could have done so much for the world. And we’ll never know. Some God you have.” I storm off and head towards the group of people standing next to our tennis court. My friend James is the first to notice me; puffy blood shot eyes and shaking hands.

“You okay Bec?” He asks. “You look shaken.”

“It’s nothing.” I lie, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Has Maxine arrived yet?”

“Max isn’t coming, something about the wound being too fresh or something.” James sighs, as he fiddles with his sling for his left arm. “I’m honestly surprised you’re here. You came face to face with Robert. All of us are shocked he left you go. He didn’t let anyone else go.”

“I was the only one that treated him like a human being,” I mutter softly. “I was the only one nice to him.”

“I guess we all should have been nice to him.” James’ voice is full of guilt. “I guess none of us thought picking on the kid could have ended up like this.”

I just stay silent as thoughts rush through my mind. Part of me wonders if I just talked to him more, was there for him, if he would have open fired at all of us. Part of me wonders if giving him the time of day would have prevented this.

I guess I’ll never know...