fifteen.

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   It's been a month. A month of denial - although I'd never let myself admit that.

Life has been pretty normal this past month. I go about it as I usually do; school, work, home. The only thing different, although it's not actually that different all things considered, is the fact that my mother is absolutely pissed off at me... but this time I don't really blame her.

It all started the day after.. well the accident. She flew to London on the next flight she could get and immediately came over, along with Quinn who had picked her up because I refused to leave my house. When I saw her, I didn't speak much either. Unfortunately, she took this the wrong way.

There are three things that I hate in this world; death, emotions and seeing people cry. Especially those that I care about. These three things are the reason I avoided my entire family for the week they were all here.

When everyone gathered to discuss my aunt's will, I skipped it. When they went to collect her ashes, I didn't show. When they scattered the ashes by a small river near where my aunt grew up, I refused to leave my house and pay my respects along with them.

This sent my mother over the edge with me. She tried talking to me about it, tried getting me to open up to her but I just couldn't do it. She was never one to get me to talk. I never have talked to her about how I'm feeling, I always talked to Aunt Heather instead. Now that she's gone, I have no one.

   I'm alone.

Once my mother was done yelling at me, right before she left to go back home, she threw a bunch of keys on my kitchen counter along with an envelope. I waited for her to leave and then I opened it. Inside were documents. Legal documents showing that if anything ever happened to my aunt I was to get her entire estate. Her house belongs to me now.

   I have yet to move into the main house, or even pick up the keys for that matter. I haven't stepped foot in that house since that day because I can't bring myself to go in there, knowing she isn't inside drinking a bottle of wine in her living room while watching some cheesy romcom on the television.

The keys and documents have since been living in a drawer that I never open.

My friends all tried to call; Maria, James, Katherine, and Mike. I would have answered but I knew why they were calling. We've been slowly drifting apart from each other, not talking nearly as much as we used to. It got to the point where I only really hear from them once a month, and it's usually always around the same time each month. I didn't answer because I knew they were calling to give me sympathy and I didn't want that.

I don't want anyone's sympathy because nobody gets it. They say they're sorry but they have nothing to be sorry for.

I've only talked to Emma and the boys. I think they got the hint after I hung up on them for trying to give me an apology for my loss.

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