Echoes of the Pack

a small packet of tissues in my pocket, the kind you carry when you're not

You'd expect a busy police station, but in our peaceful hom

e she took her own life. They're following the rules, so they c

I go to get the tissue box. She takes my hands and dabs her eyes

me and stops me from talking. Her te

t I'm not sure why. We all feel empty. I can see Azura in my mother's

from my mom. She wipes her cheeks a

says something and shakes all our hands. "I know this must

ng it one day at a time,

tan shakes it again and gives, "We're doing

ys softly. She puts her hand on my should

eople are going through what you're experiencing. It's okay to

top card: "Sui

ive Dristan, "She did

ssibilities," he nods. "B

parents flinch. We've been arguing about this for th

ly as he opens the car do

understand. It's the same thing I've heard from everyone since she passed aw

e only one who really knows Azura and knows she would never do somethin

e on my bed, thinking about Azura's steel drawer. Do g

don't want to stop crying for Azura. If I stop crying, does it mean I've stop

t something was wrong, that she was in trouble, but I

? Could I have prevented this by te

aybe to convince myself, maybe because I truly b

re. I want to sleep, but sleep escapes me. Every time I close

lo

like an angel'

ting image in my mind is carried away by the wind, and I feel safe. Numb. B

rk outside, and the forest is a solid blac

down. These days, all I can do is stay in bed. Wi

. Azura used to play the piano, waking me and my parents with her melodies in the morning. I

ith the silence of grief. This grief is overwhelming, making it hard to relate to others. Death has not only stolen my sister but also changed the

hat are y

like she owns the world. I look at her, wondering if I'll ever be ha

smirk, "you've got that

I grumble as I s

u're usually too busy exploring the woods and the me

ke a total loser," I protest, and we

beside me. "Maybe it's your way of escaping stress. No one should blame

pot by the pond near our home. In the summer, it's filled with wildflowers an

look at her, I can't help but feel envious. She's so att

hy

chool seniors, and I've never

e smiles at me, "Ahren is more of a good

." She doesn't understand how it feels to be t

nly child, I'm too shy to stand out. Boy

whispers, "Alora, they'll come when the time is right. The

" too absorbed in my self-pit

not from fear but from a whirlwind of emoti

eats loudly. Thump. Thump. Thump. There's no one outside. Thump.

e covers. Sleep eventually takes over, but I

d it be