Chapter 2 - Is your bedroom ceiling bored? [Sasha]

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My eyes fixed on the white ceiling above me, fairy lights strung around the outside of my bedroom wall as I just laid there. I thought if I could stay in bed all day that the day wouldn't happen that today was just a bad dream. Mom was gone. The woman who had raised me had passed away and now I was forced to say goodbye. Everyone was going to be expecting a sort of reaction, crying, sobbing, but I wasn't feeling the urge to do any of that. I lay in bed and I just felt nothing but regret for the time that was now lost.

How many times did I dismiss going out to a movie or having breakfast with my mother? Now I would give anything to walk down to the breakfast table to find her sitting there with the smile she always wore across her face, her eyes were like portals to a new world full of pure happiness and light. Even when she had just woken up she looked like a goddess, I didn't take after her at all. I resembled the women from my father's side of the family which wasn't a disappointment, I had been told by many people growing up how I was the prettiest girl they had ever seen, maybe that's where my sense of confidence came from.

The sun rose and it became a sunny day. My eyes stayed closed until the last bit of light slipped into the room before I pulled the blankets back and stood up. My stomach had finally stopped roiling with guilt and it was time to eat; I didn't want father sitting at the big empty table alone. It didn't seem as though I'd even slept. My hair was a mess and my eyes looked the worse for wear, but there was no time to care about that anymore. I grabbed my robe and slung it around my body as I walked down the stairs, and headed towards the large kitchen.

I had a blessed life with more money than anyone needed in their life, and a house big enough to be a hotel during the worst times; that wasn't to say we were selfish. We helped out with various charities around the world and gave back to the community, our estate was of course private from outsiders but we hosted gathering for everyone to come in; or at least Mom did. I went to enter the kitchen but I couldn't do it. What would I do without her? All the woman had ever done for me was love me, and now she wasn't going to be there. It wasn't fair.

"Sasha," My father called, I turned to see him hovering in the doorway, his shoulders slumped and a look of concern etched on his face. He took a step forward and grabbed my shoulders, looking me deep into my eyes. "I don't know what to say." He replied after a moment, squeezing my shoulders gently before pulling me into a hug. I could feel his pain in the words he spoke, he loved this woman since they were fresh out of college and starting their life together. They were married young and even started their small family young, Sasha was an only child and growing up in such a big house it got lonely. She always wished she'd have siblings.
"Dad," I rested my head against his chest embracing the hug. The moment felt reminiscent of when Mom was first admitted into the hospital, that felt like a lifetime ago by now but it was merely a week before today. "I should-" I mutter breaking from the hug, trying to hold by the now forming tears in my eyes as I approached the door he had just been leaning in. "I should go get ready." I needed to be out of the kitchen, my appetite had abandoned me and all I felt was the nauseous calling of guilt once again.
I walked into what used to be a bedroom, now converted into the biggest closet a girl could need. It was like my own private shop where I could walk out without paying, hung in a bag was my dress. Father had specifically chosen a dress he'd thought I'd like but still be respectful for the funeral. It was black, fitted and long with a small train at the back of the skirt. It had been a perfect fit but I had been so depressed and unsure that I couldn't get myself out of the door and wear it. Resting on one of the many plastic heads were some shades, I grabbed them before throwing the dress on my bed.


I hadn't even thought of dressing up for the funeral, but no-one was going to care. I only had to convince myself that it was for my father; that was enough for me. Mother's funeral had been so much more than we'd ever planned or imagined. It was a day that no daughter ever thinks about, and prays that won't ever come. So I pulled my dress on, the matching black high heels and prayed that no one would look at me. I didn't want to see their sadness. I couldn't even bear it myself. I placed the glasses beside the table before doing my make-up, nothing special just light purple makeup. Which was a moot point as I slipped my glasses over my eyes.
I felt a familiar shock when I opened the door, my heart jumped into my throat. My father had waited by the door until I had stepped through, he pushed me into a hug. Not that we weren't close hugs were always Mom's thing, she gave the right amount of pressure and made me feel comfortable. This was different.


It was much more than a hug, it was his tears and knowing pain in his eyes. I had never seen that before. He was trying his hardest to be strong for me but of course, it was a struggle when the love of your life was being set to rest. He let go of me and shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "You look beautiful." He whispered his hand flicking away the tears that had run down his cheeks. "The limo is out front but we can hold off for a little while if you wish." He offered.

I shook my head graciously towards him before wiping my cheeks clean. "I'm alright," I mumbled as he walked me through the house as people were setting up for the post-funeral get-together, father had decided to have all the family members back here for a more private wake after the public one. Having as much money as we did had placed our family in the limelight of many articles. I wish I could say all painted me in a good light.

I walked through the large doors leading into our house and towards the limo that was parked at the end of the driveway, the outside lights were dimmed to give it a comforting feel. The driver opened the door and offered his hand out for me to get in. I took it before climbing in, once Dad had slumped into his seat we waited to take off. The drive was mostly quiet not me or Dad daring to break the fragileness of each other.

it was finally time to say goodbye...

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