The hard droplets of rain were rapidly smashing the window. It sounded like it wanted toenter the classroom. Outside was unclear, there was nothing in sight, just the rain that ruined the silence.

I looked over to see her desk was empty and normally I would pay no attention but today I couldn't. I stared deeply into her desk, the only thought in my mind was "why." I tried to remove thought just like all my other ones, but this one was loud and humbling, the thought made me forget my feelings and remember hers. I felt a hard lump in my throat and my eyes burned as they began to fill with tears, the same eyes that witnessed everything but did nothing.

"Eliana?" A voice called out to me, I looked up and nobody was in the classroom anymore, the bell had rang but the intensity of my thoughts silenced any noise that I could possibly hear. I hurried out of the classroom joyful that the day was over, I eagerly stuffed everything in my locker and exited the building.

The rain stopped but outside remained gloomy and things felt heavy again when I noticed the dark clouds. It took me back to the time I was peacefully walking outside and heard those girls who were praised for their atrocious behavior saying gut wrenching words to her. Words that couldn't be fixed with an apology, words that would hurt forever. I stood there and watched her endure that immense pain she was visibly feeling. I wanted to speak but my tongue was paralyzed. The rain began to fall so I took the chance to leave. I couldn't see a person go through that, and I couldn't be next. I should have helped her.

The next day in class it was another boring lesson, students weren't paying attention, some even on their cellphones. For me I was looking at an empty desk again. It allowed me to remember her and try my best to acknowledge her absence, which was devastating. After many long minutes, Mr. Johnson's lecture shifted him to mental health. Students regained their focus and started to pay attention. Some looked uncomfortable while others were clearly unconcerned. This wasn't a topic he usually discussed, I mean he never did.

"If you guys are ever struggling please reach out, our school offers many resources"

Those words made something in me fire up, I felt enraged, my face noticeably changed expressions and I'm sure they noticed. I had words begging to come out, but my tongue paralyzed, just like it was when she was getting harassed and I said nothing. The guilt was consuming me all I could think of was the things I could have done or said, my thoughts never changed and I was sure they never would. For the next few days, the rain was intermittent.. The rain didn't bring peace anymore, it reawakened dreadful memories with her. 

 

Seasons passed, days went on, people moved on, but I continued to feel guilt and shame.I seemed to be the only one concerned. At school her desk wasn't empty, I couldn't stare at it anymore, I couldn't replay the memories. I had done many things to let go and feel peace, I expressed my feelings with many and they all agreed it was not my fault, but something made me believe it was.

Although she died so long ago her family never held a funeral, they just buried her. That felt wrong, but everyone handles grief differently. I never visited her grave, I didn't think I deserved to. This day was different though, I had to see her, it was the least I could do after everything.

 

I took the courage to go and see her, the walk felt awfully long and I was contemplating if I should even go, of course I ignored the doubt and went anyway. I searched the place and then there it was; " Emily Walker" right on her gravestone. I read the lovely message on it and my tears slowly fell. I sat there trying to enjoy the moment. Then I heard a whisper , a whisper so loud but yet peaceful. It was her voice, it was telling me to stop and let go. I couldn't believe she'd still talk to me despite the fact I didn't do anything to stop her. The whispers stopped but the peace stayed. I haven't felt that way in a long time.