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The girl in the photo blinked. But Lizzy couldn't care. Couldn't bring herself to care. Not when it's happened a million times before. It's moments like these, she thinks, that haunt her. The joint in her hand, smoke filling her lungs into that familiar buzz, the air as foggy as her head. She loves it. Craves it, even. Apart from when it happens like this. Seeing her again, like a moth to a flame, her spirit lingering like the photograph she can't ever get rid of or replace. It's been six months since April died. Her best friend, her soul mate, her life line. And then she wasn’t. Lizzy doesn't blame her, though she wish she could. Wished she had someone to pin this tragedy to while she smokes her grief away. But the truth is harder, because there is no one to blame, no one but herself. Every therapist will tell her the same thing, has told her the same thing, that it's “not your fault,” or, “you couldn't have predicted this.” But in all hindsight, in all the truths that could ever be laid out, it was Lizzy's fault. She caused Aprils death. And she won't let herself forget it, not even if she wanted to— the joint won't let her forget, either. The buzz could pound her head, making her feel like it was getting slammed into bricks over and over and over again, but the thought will always linger at the back of her mind, tucked away into the deepest, darkest, crevices of her brain... “you caused this.” The girl in the photo blinks again, Aprils eyes shifting to Lizzy's red dotted ones, the blue of her iris almost like an accusation, Lizzy thinks.She knows if the gentle hearted girl was here right now, she would hold her hand, kiss her cheek and tell her it was never her fault—despite what was last said. Despite all the stolen kisses in the back of her dads truck. Despite all the secret, hidden “I love you's” behind the school. Despite April coming up to her and asking her to be with her offically. And despite Lizzy shaking her head and telling her that it would never happen. That she was just a friend.And there was another truth, slapping her in the face. Because Lizzy did love April, still does. And April was always more than a friend. And April was always going to be for her... until she wasn’t. Because April was gone. Because April commited suicide, the very same night Lizzy said those words to her. The very same night April backed away right after, with her heart so broken she could see it in her eyes. Lizzy pulls the joint to her mouth again, closing her eyes as she inhales the smoke. Anything to shake the ache in her heart. The memory of her forgotten friend— her lover. But the ache is still there, stabbing her like tiny pins. She opens her eyes, avoiding the stare of April in the photo. A girl trapped in time, thats all she was now, a memory.Lizzy stands up, her hand shaking as she rips the photo off the wall, the pin that was holding it up ripping through the top and staying on the board.She grips the photo, her hands feeling like an earthquake as she stares down at the smiling, blue eyed girl she new so well, her own smile next to her in the trapped moment feeling like a mockery to the state she's in now. Despite her raw throat, Lizzy whispers, “You didn't have to do it.”She wasn’t expecting a response, knew she would never get one.“You didn't have to die—!”, with a scream, she rips the picture in her hands, the pieces crumbling like snow to her hard-wooden floor.And in that moment, as Lizzy watches the shedded remains of her last photo of April fall to the floor, she falls with them. A sob of regret creeps up her throat, trembling hands reaching for the remains of the photograph like they were April herself. Her lip trembles, tears blurring her vision for the tenth time that night.“God...April...”, she whispers once more, to no-one but herself.Uncontrollable sobs leave her, hunching over the photograph and gathering the small shredded pieces into her hands like they were glass, she thought maybe if she tried hard enough— fought hard enough— they'd stick back together again. And all that remained of April would stay together. But the pieces were too little, a reminder of all that left of Lizzys heart. Her mind drifts to all their shared moments, before the love, before the kisses, before the secret meetings they kept to themselves. She goes back to when they were children— pure and innocent, a cruel reminder of all that is lost, where happiness once was, all that remains is bittersweet sadness. April was a bright girl, always was, she never lost that as she grew up. She used to sing with Lizzy after school in her bedroom, they always talked about making their own girl group— dreamed of getting famous on the big stage. Not like they were ever any good, they were actually pretty horrible. But in those moments, when it was just them, a plastic microphone and some frilled pink skirts, they believed they could take over the world, that they could do anything. Lizzy closes her eyes as those memories creep their way back in, trying to shut them out as soon as the ache only intensifies. But she knows she can't ever shut them out, not really... she could never shut out the only part of April she had left, the times when things were good, perfect, even. Lizzy would do anything to always keep those memories. But she knows that the gathered pieces of the shredded photograph can't be fixed, even if it hurts her just a little more to admit it.So with a final tear, she puts them in the bin.

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Shredded Pieces 

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Keira_Bee

Keira Beech

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Shredded Pieces

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