Matthew sat in a bathroom stall, two halves of a piece of paper in his trembling hands. Roland's parents had asked him to speak at the funeral and he had tried, he tried so hard. He punched the wall in frustration, then yelped in the sudden shock of pain that raced through his already sore hand. Punching things is just what he did when he was angry, and he used to get angry so much. When he was a child, he was so angry all the time, he used to lash out at everything and anyone, he used to fight and hurt things all the time. Roland, Roland fixed him, he helped Matthew for no reason other than he just wanted to be friends with Matthew. He still got angry every now and again, but he never lashed out at people, only at things. He would punch a wall, or break a plate, something that didn't hurt anyone other than himself. That's the way it should have been. But, now Roland was...

Matthew practically screamed and began to lash out at the wall of the stall, kicking and yelling. He was covered in scrapes and bruises from all of the times he'd been angry in the last week or so, and every time he hit the wall, he would make a new one. With one, final blow he felt his knuckles split and a small trickle of blood began to run down his forearm and onto the tiled floor beneath his feet. He smudged it with his shiny black dress shoes. He hated this suit, it reminded him that he was at a funeral. He hated the speech, it reminded him he was an idiot. He hated everything about this place. It reminded him Roland was dead. Eventually, he collapsed, exhausted on the floor. He hadn't been aware that he had been crying, but now he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his face. Roland was gone. He was angry again, he hated everything.

---

Izzy wished, she wished with all her might, that she could feel something. Her mind was numb and her mouth was dry. This was the first time she had stopped crying since... Since that. She needed to feel something again, to feel like she was sad. Everyone was sad, there were tears everywhere except on Izzy's face. She needed to cry, she needed to be sad. She didn't want other's to see her and think 'Oh look at Izzy, her friend just died and she isn't even crying. The funeral is over and now she's just going back to her old, happy life.'

Truth be told, during the ceremony, she felt nothing. She had put on her black dress, and sat in the pews of the church and watched as everyone remembered... It wasn't right, it wasn't right for Roland. It wasn't... that was when Izzy knew what to do. She pulled out her phone and quickly typed out a message.
"One hour, usual place? We'll remember him our way." and hit send. Suddenly, she sobbed, looking at the screen of her phone. She had sent out four texts. One to Ricki, one to Matthew, one to Chris and a final text to Roland's phone. He'd never read the message, he'd never see their place again. He wouldn't.. anything. Izzy started to cry, huge tears streaming down her cheeks, smudging what little makeup still remained. She had never felt this awful in her life and yet the feeling of warm tears streaming down her face and the sight of the message on her screen made her smile, ever so slightly.

This place wasn't right, far too many people had come. Chris could recall only a few of the faces of classmates, former and current, and though most of them came to pay their respects, most of them didn't belong. He alsat, uncomfortably in the pew behind Izzy, and felt the urge to reach out and touch her. He stopped himself though. He was far from good at this stuff, and he knew he was a total wreck himself. Granted, as smart as Chris was, he knew very little about consoling someone. Even if she was one of his closest friends in a time where they were all hurt. And especially knowing that all he did was cry, it felt, since he got the news.

Fucking drunk assholes.

Chris had drowned everything out, looking at the background on his phone, seeing a picture of Izzy and Ricki smiling in each other's arms, and Matt, Roland and himself acting like idiots. It was taken just three days before the accident, at his own 18th birthday party.

He fidgeted, loosening the tie around his neck, and sitting more comfortably. He hated suits, they made things feel too real. And he didn't want this to feel real. He didn't want to believe that this happened. He knew all about the five stages of grief, and knew he had been through all but the last a dozen or more times already. He didn't want to accept this. Roland didn't deserve any of this.

He looked to his right, where Matt had once sat, but he hadn't been back in a while. His eyes wandered again, and his eyes fell on Ashley Everwood. He remembered all the drama with her, and was honestly surprised she came. She and Roland had been middle school sweethearts, and dated into their sophomore year, but Ashley grew jealous when Ricki joined the group and they ended in a lot of drama.

Speaking of Ricki, Chris hadn't seen her either. Not since he pulled up and saw her sitting in her car, smoking a cigarette. The pouring rain outside hitting the roof of the establishment snapped his attention away for just a moment before his phone vibrated in his pocket and he read the message. He responded, offering Izzy a ride of she needed it, but turned his attention back to the service upon hearing the sobbing girl in front of him. He would never be able to calm his friends the way Roland and Matt coul. Never...

--

Her eyes, normally a bright hazel were darkened, red and puffy. Christina Sinclaire wwasn't prepared for any of this. Her black dress made it feel too real, and the bouquet of flowers in her passenger seat for the graveside service were haunting her. Red roses and white lillies. The roses were for her love of the man who had been killed... and the white lillies for the fallen innocence.

She had been sitting in the way back through the entire service, tears on her face coming steadily. If anyone should have been there, it should have been her. Roland was too good, so full of light, and she was dark... no one would miss her as much as they would miss him. No one.

She exited the main room, heading towards the bathrooms upon hearing some bangs and thuds from the men's room. She stopped, her mind catching her a moment.

"Ricki! Open the damned door!" Roland was yelling from the other side. It was at the end of their sophomore year of high school, and she locked herself in the gym closet. She had been having a really bad day and Roland found cuts down her arm, despite her wearing long sleeves. "Ricki!"

Finally she opened the door, her eyes welled with tears. "It won't go away." She sobbed, letring herself fall into his arms. "I can't do it anymore."

"You look at me." He said, firmly, and Ricki looked up. "You think you're weak, but you're not, and you know I am here when you need help. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, if we all lost you."

"Rol, they wouldn't know why." She grumbled.

"You're going to have to tell them, Rick." He whispered, gently stroking her hair. "We're not going to be able to hide this forever. I keep it secret because you asked me to, but you can trust them, you know that."

Ricki looked up to him...

The next thud snapped her back, and she gently opened the men's room door, not caring really, and she found Matt there. "Matt?" Her voice came out like a whisper before she entered and walked over to him, placing her hand on his back.

She couldn't say anything else, so she knelt in front of him and brought her arms around him. A simple gesture, but she knew she could use a hug, and from the looks of it, he did too.

Her phone went off, but she ignored it for the moment, and she pulled away and wiped her eyes, trying her hardest not to cry anymore. She had cried for days, and she hadn't eaten or slept really either. You wouldn't be able to tell from all the make up she was wearing though, but as she looked at Matt, she offered her hand as she stood. "Come on. Let me look at your hand, you're bleeding."

She'd know all about that. She always did.

Matthew almost laughed when Ricki stepped in. His first thought, the first thing that broke its way through his thick skull and into his head, after all this was 'She can't be in here, this is the men's room'. God, he was such an idiot. He looked up at her from his position, slumped on the floor with his back against the toilet, his eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape. He had no clue what she had said, all he could hear was the persistent thump of his own heart as it calmed down. All of a sudden, he was in her arms, his mind suddenly clicked back into reality.

"I don't... You can't be here. I'll..." He couldn't bring himself to say it, he didn't want her to know he was a monster. He was in control now, but he didn't know what would spark his anger next. It never took much and without Roland... At the mere thought of his name, Matthew clenched his fists again and had to fight the urge to lash out and hit something again. If she stayed, he would hurt her. Matthew didn't know a lot, but he knew that. He knew he didn't want to hurt her, Ricki was nothing but a friend to him and the others, but was also sure that there was no way to stop him from hitting her if he went into another rage, and the thought of the ceremony happening as he sat here made his blood boil.

But he couldn't stop himself. He felt like a marionette, his hands lifted to take hers and his legs pulled his limp body to a standing position. He wanted to scream, he really wanted to hit something. Part of him wanted to hit her. He couldn't. What would Roland think? He let her take his bloody hand, he'd let her look at it, do whatever she wanted with it. All the while, he was screaming internally. His body acted independently, a series of numb, lifeless motions. It was all he could do whilst keeping the monster at bay. He wouldn't hurt her, no matter how much his muscles ached. His mind raced at the thought of it, all it would take is the tiniest flick of a wrist to knock her to the ground. Matthew was strong, probably a lot stronger than her. He felt sick about how much it excited him. He let his body take control, and fought the urges. He kept thinking about what Roland would tell him to do, how the others in the group would need him to be strong right now. Roland would need him to be strong. Eventually, after a few moments of standing in utter silence, he managed to speak.
"I'm okay."

---

Izzy turned her phone over and over in her hand, staring at nothing as tears streamed down her face. Keep crying. That's what she told herself. She needed others to know, she needed them to know she was hurting, needed to make sure that they knew that they were allowed to hurt too. She needed to hurt, that's what she was good for. Her pain helped others. She kept telling herself that, slowly yet surely rotating the phone in her hand. She focused on the knot in her stomach, on the pain in the back of her head. Hurt.

She meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but other people were hurting and she had read somewhere on the internet that people were often scared to hurt and that could lead to some sort of mental issue, like bottling up pain or something? It was a long, wordy article that she probably didn't understand, but she figured that if she forced herself to suffer, then other people would feel safe to hurt too, and that meant something to them. She knew that she wouldn't be able to hurt for long before she would be forced to wear the smile again, to let others cry on her shoulder. That's what she was good for. That was all she was good for.

Suddenly, the phone in her hand buzzed, she yelped a little and it dropped to the floor. The noise seemed so loud to her, making the dull throb in the back of her mind flare up, but no-one else seemed to notice. She scrambled to grab it and checked the message. She knew that Chris was just behind her, and part of her wanted to turn around, to hold him and thank him for not thinking the idea was silly or stupid. She was glad to know that she wasn't the only one who thought that everything in the church was wrong, was not what Roland would have wanted. She texted him back, she said that she would appreciate the lift. She was in no position to drive, not like this, but in her mind, it was just another time where she was a burden and her friends were bailing her out. She would have to pay him back somehow.

Chris heard Izzy yelp, and he jumped himself. Though the message he recieved back was somewhat comforting. He hated driving by himself, hell, he hated being by himself anymore, but it wasn't like it could hurt him. He was always at home alone now, his mom always at work and his father had been absent his entire life. Alone was something he knew, he had embraced it for the longest time, but ever since Roland... being alone bothered him.

"Hey guys, look at the little nerd boy. What are you doing? Reading about how totally lame you are?" One of the eighth graders taunted. Chris had just transferred in about a week earlier and was in the sixth grade. However, his thick glasses, small frame, and obscene oile of books tended to get him made fun of. It always had.

At Chris's silence, the eighth grader knocked his books off the lunch table, and when Chris went to pick them up, they pushed him down, knocking his glasses to the floor.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" A voice exclaimed, and the eighth graders shot the boy a look. A sandy blond boy, about six inches taller than Chris came over and handed him his glasses. "Don't mind those guys. They're jerks. I'm Roland, by the way. What's your name?"

Chris was a little stunned, but he spoke. "Christopher." He practically whispered. "But, you can call me Chris if you want."

Roland smiled and waved over a boy and girl. "Hey, Matt, Izzy. Meet Chris, my new friend." He smiled.

Chris had seen a lot of changes in himself since then. After an inheritance from some uncle his freshman year, he had gotten Lasik surgery and no longer needed glasses or contacts. He also hit his growth spurt between freshmen and sophomore year and had filled out. But now, now it didn't matter that Rolnd and Matt weren't teaching him to stick up for himself... now Roland was out of reach and everything was changing. He could feel it.

Finally, he sat forward and placed his own head in his hands, just wanting the service to be over.

--

She could hear Matthew speaking, but Ricki paid him no mind. She just gently washed the blood off of his hand and dug into he clutch and put some gauze around his hand before taping it. Then his voice hit her, and she looked into his eyes. He had said he was okay, but his eyes betrayed him. She could see so much in them, and she looked away when she saw something familiar... the inner fight.

"Don't lie to me, Matt." She spoke, still quietly. There was a softness to her still though, and she brought her hand up, hesitating a moment before she placed it on his shoulder, looking back to his eyes. The tears had returned to her own, but she knew Matt needed to hear what she had to say. "You may be the strongest of us, but it's painfully obvious you're not okay. And you have the right not to be, the strongest people are allowed to have their times of weakness. And you are so far past due..." she said, removing her hand from him and she backed away a bit, taking a paper towel from a nearby dispenser and wiping her eyes.

She couldn't believe what she saw in his eyes though... how the familiarity scared her. Still, she looked back to him. "No one will judge you, and if they do, you know that..." she half chuckled, half sobbed. "I'll go crazy Ricki on them for you."

She exited the bathroom and sat on a nearby bench, cradling her head in her hands as she began crying again.Poor Christina, all alone. I told you he would leave you... they'll all leave you one day. Once they know how insane you really are. I have always been here for you, my dear... And I always will.

Ricki shook her head, trying to shake the voice away, mouthing, wordlessly, "Just shut up, go away."

She needed to take her meds, something she had been neglecting the past week, but she finally gathered herself up to look at her phone, and she blinked as more tears came. She texted back.

I'll stop and get us some food and drink. Might be a few late though. Any requests, just ask.