A Stranger on the Pavement

Chapter Seven

(A/n)
Attempted suicide at the end. Warning!

Phil pulled Dan up. Dan's eyes were puffy and red.
"What's wrong, Dan?"
"(Y/n)," Dan managed to whisper.
"What about (y/n)?" Phil asked his hands on either side of Dan's shoulders.
"She's...dead," Dan said as another tear trickled down his face.
Phil turned as white as a sheet and pulled out his phone and texted (f/n):

Come to ours quick

Phil had escorted Dan to the living room and managed to sit him down when (f/n) came bursting through the door. The force knocked a photo off a wall as she came charging in.
"What happened?" Her voice was riddled with worry.
"(Y/n) is dead," Phil replied as (f/n) brought her hand to her face in shock.
"Right, we have a funeral to plan."
"Isn't it a bit soon," Phil said gesturing to Dan.
"The sooner the better," (f/n) replied, "she wouldn't want anything fancy."

***3 hours later***

"Who should we invite?" Phil asked. Dan had stayed silent through the whole preparations, sitting in the corner seemingly in another world.
"Us, the police force and a few of her old friends."
"What about her family?"
"Her family?"
"Yes."
"They're all dead. Blown up in a terrorist attack. I'm surprised you didn't know it's one of her favourite tales to tell. How at the age of 13 she managed to crack a security code and escape a building which exploded a couple of seconds later. Killed everyone apart from her," (f/n) smiled.
"Okayyyyy, then," Phil said slightly confused.

***The Funeral***

It was a dismal day outside which perfectly reflected the mood of those gathered in the small church. The vicar was droning on about something or other but Dan wasn't really paying any attention. He was gazing out of the window. He heard a slight rustling behind him and turned around quickly. A women with a veil obscuring her face had taken a seat a few pews back. She was wearing a black dress that looked as though it came from the 1900s.
"Who is she?" Dan asked (f/n).
"An old friend of (y/n)'s, Rebeka Black," (f/n) replied concentrating on the service.

The service ended and the gathering went to put flowers around the grave. Dan took this opportunity to have a word with the woman in black.
"Hello, I'm Dan," he said extending his hand toward the woman.
"I'm Rebeka Black," she said in an Irish accent shaking his hand, her veil covering her face.
"T'is a pity. We were great friends back in the day," she said.
Dan nodded.
"And what are you to her?"
"I'm her... Boyfriend," he immediately wanted to face palm himself. He did wish he was but she had never shown any interest toward him. The woman chuckled.
"What?"
"I very much doubt you were. She didn't love. She was incapable of it. She said that it would mess with her head. She wanted nobody to care just in case something like this happened," Rebeka pointed at the grave.

***5 months later***

"This is getting ridiculous now, Dan. You barely knew her for two days!" Phil yelled at Dan. Dan jut sat solemnly in the corner.
"And?"
"What?!"
"I loved her!" Dan yelled back. "If (f/n) died you would be sad wouldn't you?!"
"She's my wife not someone I met a day ago!"
"You don't get it!" And with that Dan grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him.

***2 years later***

He couldn't take the pain anymore. He longed to be with her. He gulped as he edged onto the ledge of a building. He sifted his weight and was about to fall when he felt a strong pull on his wrists and toppled back onto the rooftop.
"Oh no you don't!" Said an Irish accent.

(A/n)
Thank you all for 200 reads. It makes me so happy. I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
Over and out,
Loony🐌