Secondhand Smoke

It was the day of Frank’s funeral, and I was standing in the back of a small church with the most uncomfortable suit on, but I wore it because it was his favorite. He always used to say that something about me in an all black suit made his little heart beat faster.
I slowly made my way toward the front, where his casket was being displayed to anyone who wished to see him. When I got over to him, I felt light headed, and I just wanted to lay down. Part of his hair was shaved from where they tried to stitch his head up, and he didn’t have any make up on. Frank usually wore eye liner so it was odd and uncomforting to see him without it. Whoever chose his suit, chose the one he hated. The sleeves were too long and it covered his tattoos.
I leaned down and stroked his cheek. His face was cold. I quickly moved my hand and looked around me. I saw Frank’s mother. Her eyes met mine and then she began walking toward me.
“It was you! It was your fault! He was with you! Why would you let my baby die! He trusted you.. this is your fault.” She said before collapsing into her husband’s arms, and sobbing.
She was right. It is my fault. I was the one driving. I don’t remember how we crashed but its still my fault he’s gone. If it weren’t for me, he would still be here.

The memorial service came to an end and I went home. My house felt so empty. It was mine and Frank’s and now he’s gone. All of his stuff is still here, and his pillow smells just like him and I always find myself crying into it.
Every morning when I wake up, I reach over to feel for Frank, then I realize he isn’t there and it all comes back to me. I could’ve saved him and it’s my fault he’s gone.

I go through every day like a zombie. I go to my boring office job, and then come home and try to sleep to forget it all.

On Friday instead of going home, I went to the bar. I had too many drinks to count and found myself making out with a slutty teen girl who was way too young for the bar she was at, but I didn’t care because at least it meant that I felt something other than pain and guilt. I brought her back to my house, and the second we got there, she started getting undressed. I went to the bathroom and tried to clean myself up a bit. I was disgusting. My hair was greasy and my skin was whiter than paper. I shrugged it off and went back into my bedroom where the girl was waiting. She was already naked. I took of my shirt and crawled in bed next to her. It felt gross having someone that wasn’t Frank in my bed. I pulled the blankets off of me and went to turn the light off. I walked toward the light switch, then felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked behind me and nearly fell to the floor.

It was Frank.

Notes

Hello c: I hope you all like where I'm going with this! leave comments if you would like to.