•James Beaufort•

•Past•

It tickles. Like the cosy warmth feeling after long wintery days, making my fingers move across the ledge of the window that overlooks my garden, the same view I've been seeing for months. The streaks of the sun are all around me, their rays and their warmth registering my senses finally.

My morning begins with me sulking in my room and my night ends with stalking the starry nights. I fight with my mind all day to keep me away from horrible memories and yet night is the time my heart would the seek star that may be Maeve. I like to inflict the pain I caused on us. I should be there instead of her.

"James," Lydia dashes towards me, holding my breakfast that she knows will go bad. I don't remember the last time I ate more than two bites that weren't forced by my twin.  "Have something. You know we have to be somewhere."

"My decision won't change," I reply, fisting my fingers, feeling another rage bubbling inside me. "I don't wanna go anywhere."

"It was an accident," Lydia points out for the millionth time, her voice more miserable than mine. "Nobody wanted that upon her."

"Can you just leave me the fuck alone, please, for fuck's sake," I force my voice to a normal tone? Lydia has been nothing but a comfort to me, always trying to pull me out of my devasted state, distracting me with work, and college life but I'm having none of it. To hell with it.

"You are disrespecting her by not being there for her," she puts her hand on my shoulder, wanting me to face her but I won't budge.

"I think if I went there I may let go of her," I tell her honestly. "I don't want to forget her. I want to carry her with me, every second of us, the good and bad. Most importantly to never forget that she's not with us because of me. I'm afraid I might ask for her forgiveness and knowing her, she'll forgive me."

"You can't think like that,"

"I should," I wanted to slam shut the window, to hurt something or me. "I was supposed to protect her. She never wanted to come to the party. I insisted and then—"

"Stop it, okay!" she finally shoves me around. "You can't torture yourself like that. Just come and maybe the peace you are looking for is there when we bury her. So please say your goodbyes. Please!"

"You don't get it, do you?" I fume. "I don't need peace. Now get the hell out of my room, Lydia."

My sister, her eyes teary, mirroring mine stares back at me, more words waiting to pour out of her mouth but finally, she backs away and walks out of the room, her heels clicking harshly on the floor.

For me, these past five months have been funerals as Maeve's body was lost deep in the sea, undiscovered until a few days ago in an unrecognizable state. My dad and Maeve's mother were informed about it as soon as the autopsy came.

As the next few hours roll by, I play how the funeral must be carried out and how many friends and families visited to say their goodbyes. I know Lydia's one of them despite being not her friend.

Walking over to the study table, I spare a look at my pile of sketchbooks that are eating dust, charcoal pencil unsharpened, tucked inside the drawer, untouched. I pull out one of my sketchbooks, turning pages over pages, only stopping at pictures of Maeve I drew. All of them are drawn from my deepest memories, each one filled with compelling smiles.

I trace a finger over her face, feeling and reliving the touch when she was curled in my arms. What do I do, Maeve? Without you, the world is colourless and hopeless. I left my purpose to live at the same spot when the rescuer came for me but couldn't locate you.

I can't even imagine how much pain you felt in your last moment and how alone you must have been. Or how useless I was for not being able to reach you. There is so much to say and yet I can't muster a word.

Tears spring out as I close the sketchbook and move to the closet, hurrying to grab my clothes. No, I can't just sit here. I left you there alone but now I won't.

Fetching a black suit for me, I look down and find the dress I had tailored for Maeve for the Gala. Her mother had returned it to me, cursing me in the process that I took away her daughter. It's another guilt to bear and I have a lifetime for that.

..........

The cemetery is now empty as I waited for everyone to clear out, unable to face anyone. Holding a bunch of flowers in my hand, I walk over to her grave, placing them on her, and settle down next to her, my heart in unbearable pain.

Our supposed future together flashed before my eyes in a million pieces now and just like that, my mouth won't move. I wish to be back in school, my eyes seeking her in the classroom or courtyard or the corridors. It was never just mere fascination. She could put a smile on my face and lit me up from inside.  It was love and my friends even knew that. They never spared a chance to tease me about her and call me a lovesick idiot, head over heels for her.

That's the kind of effect she had on me and she always will.

I want to tell Meave that she lives with me, all the time and that there's no world in which her memory and imagination won't escape me. Her existence is timeless while everything else is a blurred image. So as I live, I pray that no matter what world it is, I'll never be worthy of her forgiveness.

"Meave, never forgive me," I finally say, hearing my whisper. "Never."

...............

And hence the past sums up. Coming up with more chapters very soon.

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