Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"Sweetheart, what have you done to us?" ♫ SWHYDTU By Keaton Henson.
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One week ago I was getting wasted at clubs in New York City with my best girlfriends, I was kissing and fucking the guy I adored in high rise, luxury hotels, and I was—having the best trip I'd ever experienced in my life.
Today I was going to a funeral.
The first few days back from our vacation hit me like a sack of bricks.
I had little to no vibrance in my life because--while Naomi lived with me and Kristen would text every so often, my time was devoted to spending quality moments with my little brother, sorting out my life and planning the burial for my mom.
The first day back, I had to attend and testify at a court hearing for my uncle Matthew so he could take custody of Ollie; declaring myself unfit to be his legal guardian because I had no prospects and I was too young.
Which was a punch in the gut like no other.
On the second, third, and forth day back, I had to deal with my moms' death and every aspect of it.
I had to pick out an engraving for her headstone, pick out a casket at the parlor, and pick out where she'd be buried. I had to pay the fines for all of it which set me back around ten grand.
I had to call family members and see who wanted to come down for the wake and listen to each of their stories about my mother being the most generous yet most complicated woman they'd ever known.
And on the fifth and sixth day, I had to take myself, and my little brother to the store to--one last time--pick out a sensible black sweater and slacks for him to wear to the funeral. There was nothing more depressing than watching an eight year old try to find something to wear that their mom would approve of because he was insistent she'd see from beyond the grave.
It was just a long, long week, and worst of all, I had to do it all alone.
I was the only one who could. I was the eldest now. I was the leader of my family's household. I felt the weight of it on my shoulders, even in my mothers' passing. It had to be me.
I felt though that deep down I always sort of knew that.
"Cherry, are you here?" Niko called out.
"Upstairs." I called out. Standing in my bedroom in front of my body length mirror, I smoothed down the creases in my poorly pressed outfit; a tight, sleek, black mockneck dress with an open back. Simple, but elegant and the opposite of what my mother would've wanted to see me in. That was where me and my brother differed however.
"I know we're supposed to be leaving now," I muttered when I saw him appear in the doorway out of the corner of my eye, "I just need a moment, if that's okay."
