Found

Six

I stared at the wall. I should've helped him! I was the only one that could of. Now, here I was, sitting in my room, trying to find the will to leave my room for his funeral. This was my fault.

All because you are so fucking useless. You are a waste of Damn space. Why don't you follow Tuesday's example and remove your sorry ass from the earth. Just cut a little deeper. Or maybe, use a gun, just like Tuesday. Make your last moments painful.

I began to cry, tugging at my black sleeves. I shouldn't be here. No. I should be with Tuesday. If anyone should have been dead it was me.

"Mitch, honey, ready to go?" My mom knocked gently on my door. My cries silenced and I scrubbed viciously at my tear streaked cheeks.

In response, I opened my door, careful to avoid her touch. I hated that even the smallest touch sent me into a panic. I hated how drained it left me and how sad it made my family. Well, except for Scott. I don't know why, but if I ever started to panic, his arms around me helped. Two and a half months since I had been found, and he was still one of the only people that could touch me. Tuesday had been another.

I hated that my own father couldn't be in the same room with me without me freaking out.

My mother knew my boundaries, and she respected them. As I moved out of my dark room, she stepped to the side. I had gotten better around her, but it was still so hard for me.

Useless. Can't even hug your mother, or be around your father. You're pathetic. Take a leap of 'faith' onto the freeway and make everyone's life better.

I tried to ignore it, tried to push it to the back of my mind, but it was always so hard to do. That voice was always there. As I walked silently out of my house to the car, I thought of that Tuesday said about the voice. I knew how he felt. Maybe ending it would be easier.

None of these things I said out loud. No, I kept all of these life decisions to myself. I knew that is anyone found out, something would happen, and I doubted I would like it. That might just be what pushes me over the edge.

The drive was silent, morose. No one said anything, not even as we parked the car. I sat and waited for everyone to get out of the car before I followed, slowly. My head was bowed and I pulled the sleeves of my black turtle neck down. It was the second of November and the wind nipped at my cheeks. The sky was gray.

I looked around at the black bodies huddled and picked out a specific group. I drew nearer and instantly, I knew them. They were the kids Tuesday had talked about.

"One day, when we're better, I want you to meet them. All of them but Monday graduated, but still come to the school everyday, just for me. They are the best."

I remembered the happy smile on Tuesday's face when he told me that. I gave him a smile all my own, even though it was fake.

I took another step closer and spoke.

"You are his friends." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Their muttering stopped and then looked at me, crying. All of them nodded slowly. Keeping my hands hidden, I introduced myself.

"I'm Mitch. Tuesday's friend from there." Tuesday and I had agreed that 'There' would be the way to talk about our situation before. No one else knew. We couldn't tell anyone. We were isolated from everyone else.

"I'm Friday." One of the boys spoke up. I looked at him. He kept his hands to himself, which I was thankful. Maybe Tuesday told them about my boundaries.

"I know. Or, at least, I could probably have picked you out of a crowd." I said awkwardly. "I know for a fact, though, that you are Saturday. You have purple hair, just like he said."

"Did he talk about us a lot?" A new, weak voice spoke up and I looked straight to the source. The speaker was a tall boy, or he would have been, had he not stood so stooped. In his hand was a note and his voice was strangled with tears.

I shook my head weakly. "No. It was too hard for either of us. He did tell me about you all once. Especially Thursday. He loved Thursday." The same haggard boy looked up at me.

"He told me. In here." He handed a paper out to me. The others in the circle helped move it to me so I could grab it from Friday.

I silently skimmed over until I found my name. I read over it. Once. Twice. Three times, and every time, I cried more. Soon, all six of us were a crying mess, though I cried for more than the loss of Tuesday. I cried for Wednesday, for these kids that lost the person they willingly went back to highschool for, and most of all, for Tuesday himself. He couldn't see the light. He couldn't see the light that so many people said was at the end of dark times. But that is when I realized. Mother could I.

I stood and let the emotions flow over me, until I lost the strength to stand and fell to my knees.

The rest of the funeral was nothing but a teary blur, a mess of sobs and choked voices, and through it all, the closed cedar casket. It was a closed casket funeral because of the damage Tuesday had done to his head with the gun.

I remembered the moments after our call ended all those days ago. In the end, it wasn't even me, the one who had talk to him on the phone, that had called 911. No. That was Scott.

Gently, he pried the phone out of my fingers and then dialed as I sat there and stared at my hands, frozen as the sound of the gun rang through my head, over and over, the voice shrieking about it being my fault. That I didn't save him.

As I sat at his funeral, the same guilt came back. The same thought, screamed at me by the same voice.

You should have fucking done something, not just sit on the phone. It is all your fault that he is dead.

I tried to block it out, but nothing worked. Especially not as it added the last this.

Maybe it's time you died.

~°~
So, who else wants to kill the voice. Because I love Tuesday's friends so much, one of the later chapters will be Saturday and Sunday's wedding(I see all of these notes I made and can't help but think. "Jade, you are such a liar!"). Anyway, I 🍓ing cried writing this.

Self harm next chapter, as well as Mitch's always so chipper and supportive voice.

Oh, and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤🍓❤