The Devil's Daughter (Devil's Right Hand MC #4)

Chapter 2

Chrissy's POV

"And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." The priest reads off the most ridiculous Bible verse I've ever heard and Stella quietly sobs beside me. Her grip is so tight on my bicep that I'm sure there will be bruises tomorrow, but I think she would fall over without my support.

My mind drifts back to the ridiculous bible verse. Why in the hell do they read this at a funeral? Aren't there other ones about how awesome heaven is or something? Besides, who is the one walking through the valley of the shadow of death, us or my mom?

Right now, it feels like I'm living in that valley and my shepherd took a vacation.

The cemetery is empty except for the very few people who showed up for Mama's funeral. Some of her coworkers and a few friends came, but Stella and I were the only family she had. We are the only people left the bury her in a fucking casket. Her plain, wooden casket costs more than a whole month's worth of rent. Only in this economy can dying be more expensive than living.

The priest continues reading his bull shit as I just stare at that damn casket. Stella is an emotional mess, but weirdly I think it's healthier than what I'm doing. She's always been so good at expressing her emotions, me on the other hand, not so much. As I stand at the edge of my mom's grave, staring at her pine box, I realize I'm jealous of her. I'm jealous that she gets to rest now. I'm jealous that she doesn't have to do anything anymore. I'm just jealous.

My eyes snap open as the dream catapults me into consciousness, but I don't panic. I stopped that a few days ago because I've had the same Goddamn dream every day for a whole week. It's not even a dream, it's a memory, a memory of my mom's funeral. It's a sick loop that plays constantly in my mind whether I'm awake or sleeping.

I roll over in my tiny ass twin-size bed to see that Stella's is empty. We've shared a room since she officially moved in with us when we were 14. Her parents up and moved to California and tried to take her with them, but my mom offered to keep her. They gladly signed everything over to Mama. They never cared about her, anyway. Mama did, though. Mama cared so much about both of us.

Dread fills my stomach as my feet hit the cold floor and my bones make horrible popping sounds as I stretch. I don't have to look in the mirror to know my curly hair is probably standing straight up, but I don't care. Stella has seen me in much worse conditions than a bad hair day. Besides, she not doing much better than me right now. She cries at least five times a day and I can see guilt eating her from the inside out. She feels so guilty that she wasn't here when Mama died. I get it, but there's nothing she could've done. The hospital said it was a heart attack. A heart attack in her sleep probably due to cigarette smoking.

44 years on this earth and all of it was ruined by fucking cigarettes. Ironic isn't it?

With that thought, I take my pack of smokes out from underneath my pillow and shove a few into the back pocket of my jeans along with a lighter. Stella would lose her mind if she saw me smoking, but maybe I inherited more from Mama than her bad attitude. Maybe I just need something to bring me a little bit of peace.

Peace, that's something I won't have much longer. Especially since our landlord came to Mama's funeral, pulled me aside, and told me that I had to be out by the end of the month because the lease was with my mom and not me. What kind of an asshole does that at a funeral? I had to stop myself from killing the motherfucker and putting him in the ground with Mama, but I wouldn't do that to her. If they were in the same grave this asshole would drive her absolutely insane for all of eternity.

So I have no idea what I am going to do, but I'll figure it out. I'll figure it out without Stella, though. She is going back to Yale in two days and she can never know what is going on here. She's the one chance to make Mama's legacy mean something. She can't give that up because of me.