Break Point

Chapter 3

Zia
It was like the whole town was here. I imagine who would come to my funeral if I died. Alex yes. Who else. Mr. Watts maybe. That's it, two people.

But that is not true about my parents. My father was Mayor for the past seven years and my mother was his perfect companion. They were the talk of the town even when they were being the most boring people in the world. BBC even did a documentary on them a few years back known as 'The life of a small town Mayor', my father was all too happy to feature in it. He had a perfect little life to show about it. That was all he had a perfect, unscathed little life.

People were flowing in like birds migrating, I don't think the graveyard is big enough to accommodate everyone. I ask Alex's mother Jules if she needs anything. "No darling, we will manage, why don't you go sit down". She has already started to act like my mother.

I go over to Alex, he gives me a side long glance. " Hey", he says slowly. "Hi", I say in the same volume. " You look nice", I do actually look nice, considering the situation. My hair was combed back, I had extra kohl in my eyes. I even put a pink blush, I was wearing my funeral dress, but there was no sadness in me. I felt empty yes, but sad, no. When the doctor told me yesterday about my parents I didn't cry. At Alex's house while everyone was mourning, I was contemplating if I was a masochist.

Everybody was asked to assemble by the priest, breaking me from my trance. Alex took hold of my hand and we sat together in the front row. Mr. Xavier, Alex's father addressed everyone, I tuned out, I looked at the faces around me, some worried and some just bored. Mr. Watts had the same frown he always carries. Mir.anda and my other classmates just acted bored. My father was a loved person. At least they can show some respect. Fury flushes me all of a sudden. I start hyperventilating. Mr.. Xavier calls my name. Its time for my Eulogy.

Alex
Zia is shaking beside me. Something is wrong with her. She has been acting different since yesterday. And now she is shaking uncontrollably.

I help her to stand for the Eulogy I helped write last night. She could not even write her parent's eulogy, even though she is an amazing writer. Her steps are quick and small, like she is having second thoughts. The air has become dense. My neck feels wet with sweat. I look over to my mother. Her usual poise has dampened. She has dressed smartly, her black hair in a bun, dressed in a grey and black suit she loves. My father too is tired and handsome.

Zia takes out the paper from her pocket. She looks refreshed today. Unlike everybody else. Her expressions are confused, a lot is going on in her head. She looks around frantically and without reading the eulogy takes off, leaving the whole town in gasps.

If you think my story is good enough kindly vote for it. It will make my day. Thank you. :)