It had been a week, and I hadn't left the house once, except to meander along the beach just beyond my parent's front door, for hours at a time. And to go to Zara's funeral, where I sat in a daze beside her parents and cried. Charlotte and Tori had come for that as well. We held each other at the graveside as the prayers were read. For the first time since she had died, I wished that I had too.

Ann Marie and Laura had driven up to see me, and I had sat with them for a long time, refusing, however, to let them take me out for a drink, or to discuss Zara. I had refused to discuss what had happened with anyone, except for Tori and Charlotte. We spoke now daily on the phone, but none of us had managed to reach any of the guys.

They were all over the news, and by my third day home, I had made an iron hard rule that the television must be kept off at all times. My parents, afraid for my sanity, had complied. I still had Gerard's swim trunks; now dry, they were stored under my pillow. Sometimes I would take them out and stare at them. Sometimes I would throw them on the floor, and pretend that he had just left the room. Sometimes I would hold them, and cry.

I sat alone a lot, thinking about my future. I had been so certain about that, always. Before the trip, I had everything planned, but that changed on the island. I couldn't now envision a future without Gerard. I had tried to get in touch with him, through his PR firm, but that had been a dead end. They had actually laughed at me, acting like I had made the whole thing up. The snotty woman on the other end of the phone had promised to give him the message, but I knew she hadn't. All I could do now was sit and wait.

Charlotte and Tori wanted me to come to New York, stay with one of them, and get a job in a hospital there. Part of me wanted to. Another part wanted to pack up and head to Jersey, just show up in Belleville and knock on doors until I found him. The third part, however, told me to give up, sit in my childhood bedroom in my parent's house, live as a hermit, and wait to die, old and alone.

My parents were worried, I knew that. I was rapidly loosing weight. I had lost more weight since I'd been home than I had on the island. Food had no taste to me now.

I had just gotten out of the shower, and changed into a short, white sun dress. Something I had actually forgotten that I owned. I blow dried my hair, and pulled on my long, tan sweater, before heading to the front door.

"Angel?" my mother called, coming in from the kitchen. "Where are you going, sweetie?"

"For a walk," I replied softly. She nodded, and smiled at me. I returned her nod, but I couldn't bring myself to smile. I closed the door behind me, and walked down the steps to the beach, scanning the ocean with my eyes. There were the familiar trolling boats, the friendly lighthouse blinking back at me as it had always done. But it didn't feel safe to me, as it had when I was a child. I began to walk in the spray, past playing children, dogs, and couples holding hands. Neighbors I had known since childhood waved to me, others pointed and stared. I was a local celebrity now, after the crash.

Eventually, when I reached the security barrier near Walker's Point, I turned, and began to slowly walk home. The sun was setting over the land as my parent's walkway came into view, someone was sitting on the steps. I figured it was a bum, his head was bent and his arms wrapped around his knees. I wrapped my sweater more tightly around me, and approached cautiously.

"This is private property," I said, my voice sounding dead even to my own ears. The man lifted his head, stared at me with perfect hazel eyes, and smiled. I gasped, my hand going to my chest.

"Your mom said you were walking. I'd have gone after you, but I wasn't sure which way you'd gone, and I didn't want to miss you."

"Gerard?" I whispered. He stood up and held out his arms, I collapsed into them, sobbing.

"Do you know how many fucking Michael Emerson's there are in Maine?" he whispered. I wrapped my arms more tightly around him. "Your brother was the last one I tried, actually. I called every single one in the phone book." I pulled away a little, and stared up at him.

"You're here!" I whispered, lightly touching his cheek with my fingertips, half expecting him to vanish into a cloud of smoke as I did so. "Have I gone insane, or are you really here?" He laughed.

"I'm here," he said, pulling me tightly against him again, "and I've come to take you home." I stared at him in disbelief. "I told you, Angel, I'm in this to the end." He then took my hand, and together, we walked off along the sand.

Notes

There you are, my dears. The end.

So, back when I originally wrote this, some very unscrupulous people pressured me into writing a sequel. I didn't want to. I felt that this was the end of To The End. But, I caved to peer pressure, and did it. It's not the best thing I ever wrote, but, re-reading it, it's not as horrible as I remembered it either. So, if y'all are interested, I'll post it. So, let me know, lol!