LAST MAN STANDING [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rain poured heavily on us jogging for the black Range Rover. Hinto jumped on the driver's seat, Quad on the front seat while I sat on the back seat. I placed the umbrella on the seat beside me, my eyes looking out the dim window seeing the window to Morgen's office still with blinders.

An uneased breath escaped my nose, drowning it inside me. I wondered how he was, feeling my heart tearing. I reached my hand onto my chest, holding it tightly, maybe the pain would stop. The car drove away.

I rested my head on the window, trying not drown myself into anymore thoughts. The street was busy not knowing of our loss but the sky grey and crying as if it knew. A sombre mood lingered in the car, no one speaking.

It was the same feeling I had felt when I had lost both my parents and never given an opportunity to attend their funeral. I had been tossed into an orphanage boarding school just a day after their death by my uncle. At twelve years left to grieve further away from family.

I had been abandoned, no one ever coming to check or call me. All the big family that would come for family gathering now deserted me stripping off my last name along the process.

I held my lap stopping my foot from tapping endlessly. The car took a right turn. The sight of the huge church coming to my view. I felt my whole-body turn ice cold.

Thousand cars were already around. Hinto pulled over near a white car. I heard a deep breath leave his lips. It was time, seeing Quad brush his shoulder before pushing the open. We also followed, rushing inside the church.

I had never been in a church before but the idea of it scared me. The moment we stepped inside a sombre mood filled the atmosphere while the old man in a robe and collar talked in the front. There were so many people not that it surprised me.

Jason had been a good man around Fion section. He had been like a father and brother to everyone around. The guy who loved his community, working to improve it but teaching the young children how to fight.

I felt my scared lip trembling when the sight of the coffin in front came to my view. He lay inside, my eyes burned. It had to be a joke, He was going to get up and call me a fuckin bad fighter.

I heard cries from the few people I easily made up their faces as mothers of the young men Jason trained. The old man in a robe started humming and everyone joined. Hinto led us to the benches on the right a few rows away from the front. My eyes burned as the old man in a robe talked about letting go of the spirit of the death and healing.

I couldn't, feeling more warm tears creeping out my right eye that wasn't bandaged. Life wasn't fair! Why did all the good people had to die?

A pat on my shoulder caught my attention. I turned back and met an old woman in a black two piece. She handed me a tissue. "You'll be fine my son," she whispered loud enough for me to hear.

I nodded taking the tissue from her hand and turned away, wiping my tears away. My eyes suddenly met the familiar face entering the church. She wore a pair of dark jeans and a biker jacket, her hair plaited into four cornrows. Zoe Veminez, she was here. She took a sit at the left row at the back.

Her hazel eyes met my blue eyes. Her scared lip trembled as she looked away. Sympathy and hurt in them.