A minus 12 Days
Esperanza City; Four Days after the Hastur Incident in New Lennston
Birds sang, bees buzzed (when they weren’t being eaten by something), cars drove up and down the streets. There was a class of elementary school children passing by the graveyard, loud enough to be heard even over the wall that circled it, and someone somewhere was playing music so loudly that I could hear the words clearly even over here. Slow, slow me down…
The sun shone brightly down on the casket that contained Linda’s body. Or what was left of it. Her blood, on my bones…
I was wearing my funeral dress, the one my parents had bought for me a year ago for Grandpa’s funeral. I’d hated it back then, and I hated it more now. It didn’t help that it was way too tight around my chest for comfort.
Linda was wearing her own version of it inside that damned casket. Luckily for her, it was not too tight around her bust, mostly because her breasts were among the things that had been missing from her body. Shotgun blast from the side, they said. Point-blank range.
I felt the corners of my mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile, before I ordered the summary execution of all facial muscles involved in that. Let go, lay to rest.
And this is what’s called being in denial. Was I in denial?
Mostly, I just felt angry. No. I was totally angry. My hands were shaking where I’d clenched them into fists. Fortunately, I’d grown out of the phase where I always kept my fingernails long, so I didn’t tear into my own flesh…
I bit my lip, trying to calm down. Or at least keep up the appearance of being calm. Grieving.
Truth was, I wasn’t sad. I mean, I knew I should. And I felt like being sad, but I wasn’t.
Just angry. Furious.
Bitch. You’re such a bitch, I thought, looking at the casket as the fat priest from our church droned on and on about heavenly grace and God’s plan and forgiveness and shit.
Why forgive her? That was a question that kept pounding my mind. She’d lied to me. She lied to me.
We fall, we fall, we fall to the ground.
My parents were standing to my left, with my brother in between them and holding their hands. I sneaked a glance at them, even though I knew what I’d see: Shame, sadness, disappointment, confusion. Freddy looked lost, his young mind not really able to grasp the situation yet. At least I hoped so.
They looked so small, standing there. The other guests didn’t help – they were watching us, their stares heavy and judgemental. They were all from my parents’ usual circles, and really only attending to express their disapproval, as well as, probably, keep an eye on me.
I hadn’t invited any of my friends, but they’d still come, since their parents were here, too. None of Linda’s friends were here, obviously. At least none of her real friends, as we’d so recently found out. She’d cut ties with her old crowd right around the time when she distanced herself from our family, from me.
No one around here was going to invite her new ‘friends’. And the fact that we didn’t know who they were was only a small part of that. Mostly, it was because they’d gotten her killed.
The priest finished his stupid rant, and they began lowering the casket. Mom broke down, falling onto her knees, sobbing, as dad knelt down to hug her and Freddy.
I just stood there, watching as my twin sister, the supervillain, was lowered into the earth.
And I couldn’t follow her.
Sleep, sleep all night.