Golden | JJ Maybank (2)

one | Alone

For Luna, the entire world had tilted and turned until it had completely flipped . Only she was left, clinging onto the tiniest piece of string so that she didn't fall into an abyss of total isolation. The past week had been a cruel twist of time; not only had she lost two of the only people who had ever made her feel loved, but her father too.

Granted, Micheal Andrews had never much been there for her, not since her mother's death. He wasn't a dad, not really, but he had been her father and that was enough. And now, he was gone too.

She received the call a mere five hours after the police tent. It was an apologetic message, an officer who was trying their best to be empathetic but had clearly been doing this sort of thing all day. I'm sorry, he repeated throughout. Luna didn't know why he was sorry, he had nothing to do with it.

Now, back in her small corner of New York, in her small house with her small room and her small bed, Lune felt entirely alone. It was as though the walls were closing in completely. She didn't mind small, small was fine, but small was much nicer when you had someone to share it with. Otherwise, it was suffocating.

Each day in New York felt like one step closer to darkness, where everything was cold and no one was happy and she was lonely, lonelier than she had ever been before.

She thought she had JJ, she was supposed to have JJ, but now it was Wednesday and she hadn't heard from him since last Tuesday and he never picked up when she rang and he never answered her texts and it was as though he never existed altogether. At one point she worried she imagined the whole summer up in her dreams, maybe she'd have believed it if not for Kiara's occasional updates.

They were sparse and empty; a few words alerting her of the news on John B and Sarah. They hadn't found a body yet, not for either of them, but everyone knew they were dead. Body or not, they were gone and the remaining Pouges were suffering because of it.

"Are you ready?" Cynthia Thornton's sharp voice carried up the stairs. There'd been a permanent disgust present within it since they'd arrived, Luna noticed immediately.

She didn't reply. She wasn't ready, who would be ready to attend their own fathers funeral, but she got up from her bed all the same and crept down the stairs. Each step creaked a little louder than the last.

"There you are," Cynthia tutted as she fixed her hair in the small mirror beside the door, "we're going to be late."

"We'll be the only ones there." Luna replied.

"Nonsense, your father was a respected man."

Was. Past tense. She'd have to get used to that. Of course, Cynthia was referring to the time when her mother was still alive too. It had been a long while since her father was known as a 'respected man'.

The ride to the church was short and silent. They didn't talk, there was nothing to talk about. When they reached the car park, Luna shuffled out quickly and shut the door behind her. She waited for Cynthia to lock it before walking along side her into the building itself.

As expected, there were very few people sat in the pews. His work colleagues were sat towards the front, though they were stiff and looked bored and already she could tell that it was simply a formality to be there. An obligation. A couple of them eyed her as she took her own seat, apparently unaware he had a daughter. The old woman from next door was there too, eyes closed and mouth open, asleep already, as was the man from the liquor store. Luna knew none of them, she wasn't even sure who'd organised it.

She waited silently with Cynthia for the man to appear and read his small prayers, wishing, despite everything, that she at least had Topper there with her. Apparently house sitting was more important than the funeral of an uncle, than being there for family.