This chapter deals with suicide, so read at your own risks.

'I've never been honest with my feelings. I know they are too hard to bear, they would drown me. That's why I keep everything for myself, deep down so I don't feel them anymore. But sometimes, all the things I hid surface, making the pain ten times harder to bear.

Honesty is something I should have tried. Because if I had been honest with myself from the beginning, things would have been easier to face.

Even when something was wrong with my friends, I kept it for myself. I was the one who was suffering, not them.

But what I realize now is that keeping things hurts more than saying them.'

I lay in my bed with my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. I'm still trying to slow down my heartbeats from their race. I woke up a few minutes ago from my nightmare, sweaty and in tears.

I cover my eyes with my shaky hands, like if this simple gesture could take away what I saw that day. The memory is replaying behind my closed eyes, making my breath accelerate. I will never get used to this, each time being as hurtful as the last one.

I remember every detail, from where the empty flacon was to where she was laying.

It was a typical Friday evening, eighty-one days ago. Hannah, Hashley and I used to hang out after school, that was our ritual. But a week before her death, we grew apart. She was still hanging out with us at school, smiling and laughing.

She was happy, at least, that what I thought. But when we asked if she wanted to hang out after school, she always found an excuse. On this Friday, Hashley claimed to have an awful headache. She told us she would see us on Monday and she left without waiting for our answer.

I remember Hannah reassuring me about Hashley's weird behavior, telling me that she probably wasn't feeling well because of a boy or something like that. So the both of us headed to the coffee shop and spent the afternoon there. I remember that I wasn't paying attention to what Hannah said that day, my mind was somewhere else, trying to figure out what was wrong with Hashley. I nodded along what she said, not listening. I remember we got home earlier this day, Hannah probably had enough of my vague answers so she decided to leave.

On the way home, I asked her to come with to check on Hashley since she didn't answer my texts. Hannah waited on the first floor while I went upstairs. I knocked at her bedroom door, but no answer came from it. The only thing I could hear was a muffled breath. I slowly opened the door, not wanting to wake her up if she was asleep.

But I have been welcomed by a terrifying scene. I froze in the doorway, deeply shocked. I couldn't move, I became numb.

Hashley was laying on the wooden floor, her body convulsing. Her breath was irregular and loud, covering every other sound but one.
Pills were scattered all over the floor, the flacon remaining empty next to her body.

Someone pushed me against the door, making me come back to reality. This unbearable sound was coming from me. But I couldn't stop it.

Hashley !

Two men, the neighbors, were now kneeling beside her, trying to control her. But the convulsions became even more violent.

And it stopped.

That was it, that's when I rushed over her. But somebody held me back, his arms tight around my waist. I struggled and kept screaming Hashley's name over and over, but Hannah didn't let go. I could hear her sobbing in my back but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was to be close to Hashley.

I knew that the end of the convulsions meant one thing : her heart had stop beating. And at that moment, I knew that mine will never beat again. Though I knew her better than anyone, I didn't see that she was faking. I guess I have learned how to fake happiness from the best.

I push the sheet away and stand up, heading towards the bathroom. Though I don't have to get ready for school since it's Saturday, I still apply some concealer to hide the dark circle under my eyes. I can't let my parents see them, they would worry too much.

Once I'm satisfied with my unnoticeable makeup, I head downstairs for the family breakfast. Since Hashley's death, my parents work later and are often absent on the weekend. I know why but I'm not ready to face it, not yet.
So instead of having family dinners, we have a family breakfast every Saturday morning.

"Good morning Honey !" My father welcomes me as I enter the kitchen.

"Morning Dad. What are you cooking ?" I ask, the aromas filling my nostrils.

My father is the best cook ever. We used to have our little cooking lessons with Hashley. But like every good thing in my life, it stopped when she died.

"I'm making chocolate pancakes. Your mother tried to help, and here is the result," he chuckles, showing me two burned pancakes.

On the other side, my mother is the worst cook ever. No wonder why my dad learned how to cook, he didn't want to be poisoned. Even with a recipe, she always fails.

"Yeah, she better stay away from the hotplate, that would be a shame to burn the house that soon," I laugh, leaning on the counter.

"Need any help ?" My mother asks as she sits on the chair next to me, grinning.

"Well, we want to keep the house in good condition for the moment so what do you think about you not touching anything that can produce fire ?" Dad jokes, placing two plates filled with pancakes before us.

"Hum... I think that's a good idea," Mom retorts with a smile, taking her plate and walking towards the table.

We all sit at the table, my father in front of my mother, and me beside him. We eat in silence, but not an annoying silence. It is just a peaceful moment without a noise.

"So Jade, how was school this week ?" My father asks, swallowing a bite of his pancakes.

Since I barely see them during the week, they try to catch up by asking some random questions about school on our family breakfast. It used to piss me off, the way they try to show me that they still care about me. But I got used to it, the only answer satisfying them being that everything was okay.

"It was okay I guess," I say, looking at my parents. "I played piano yesterday," I add with a small smile.

I look at my mother and saw her hazel eyes brimming with tears. She quickly wipes them and smiles at me.

"Oh Honey, that's great! What made you want to play again ?" Dad exclaims, taking Mom's hand in his.

Nathan.

I've never told them about him. I don't know why, I guess I'm a bit afraid of their reaction. I've never talked about boys with my parents, not that they were against it, it's just me, I can't open up. But I have to try, for myself.

"Well, there is that boy, Nathan. He is the only friend I have and-", I started, looking at my plate.

"Jade, I don't think it's a good idea. You don't need that," My father interrupts me.

I look up to see my parents staring at me with worry.

"Need what ?" I ask, a little surprised.

"What your father is trying to say is that you are still emotionally unstable. You don't need a heartbreak right now," my mother tries to explain, reaching for my hand.

I quickly pull my hand away before she can take it. I don't want her compassion, she doesn't know what I am going through.

"A heartbreak ?! I'm not telling you I have a boyfriend, Nathan is just a friend," I answer harshly, not wanting to go any further.

"Maybe but he is a boy! What if he is expecting something else from you ?" Dad says, his voice rising a little.

"Wow, I can't believe it! He was there when I was at my lowest ebb. I needed support, so I took it from somebody who was willing to give it to me," I retort.

"Honey, we are here too. You should have talked to us instead of telling everything to that boy," Mom steps in, trying to calm us down.

But those words had the opposite effect on me.

"Oh, and when should I talk to you about that? When I come home after school? I can't, nobody is at home! When I come downstairs to take my breakfast? I can't, there is still no one to listen to me! The thing is, mom, I feel like I don't have a family anymore," I exclaim, rage making my words hard.

I know I have gone too far, but this is the truth. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks. They are not tears of sadness, they are tears of rage. My mother is crying too, I know I hurt her, but she hurts me too with her absence.

"Do not talk to your mother like that! You've never talked to us that way before. This is because of the boy, isn't it?" My Dad shouts, making my mother jumps slightly.

"No, this is not because of him! I need someone to lean on because I still feel the pain of her loss! I'm not like you, acting like if nothing ever happened, like if she never existed !" I shout back, standing up.

I hear my mother gasps, and my father stands up.

"Peter, calm down, she-", she begins, putting a hand on his forearm.

"No, Miranda, I won't let that go," he interrupts, turning towards me. "I don't want you to see that boy anymore!" He says, pointing a finger at me.

"Oh, so you decided to act like parents? You lost the right to decide on who I am allowed to see the moment you choose to stay away from me. I won't lose the only person who's helping me," I retort. "I need his support, I just lost my-", I begin.

But I am interrupted by the door bell, ending the argument.

~

A/N

Hello !

Who do you think is behind that door ?

Special thanks to _Imperfect_Writing, justme0786, WriterKV and hinata_ricci for their recent support on my story.
Your are not just great supporters, you are also amazing writers.

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