Dash In The Sky(New Version)

Chapter 9

I stood there paralyzed by what I saw. What I saw every time I closed my eyes. Every time I dreamed, slept, thought.
A dead body- my father's dead body.

There he lie in the mahogany coffin, dead. Asleep. Gone. His soul with God and his body here on the earth.

The church was quiet as people looked at him, said their condolences, that didn't matter or change anything, and took their seats.

"I'm so sorry for your loss"

What exactly was that to do?
What?
Was it to make you feel better, happier, content, at peace?

They were just saying because the were supposed to. Supposed to have manners. They didn't even mean it. Or if they did it was too much pity. Pity I didn't need. Pity that got me upset.
The more they said, "I'm sorry" the more grief I felt. And anger. It wasn't making this any better. It definitely wasn't making it good.

Their pity was fueling my anger. Pity from my mishaps. I heard them talking. Saying how the family was under so much stress. The poor things.

'First the older daughter got raped and the youngest nearly dropped out of school. They are losing so much money to take care of the older, to help her cope and make sure the others stay in school. Now the father dies and that's more money gone. The poor things'

My head snapped around to look at who spoke. Anger flowed from my veins.
I stepped forward ready to pull out the old lady's tongue when a hand touched my shoulder. Kyle.

"Don't, Marian" he looked at me with kindness, I decided not to shake him off. "It only make things worse"

I took his advice because the same thing happened at his older brother's funeral. Kelly had lost her mind, when they said too much and had ripped off someone's wig. Then they said she needed anger management or needed to go the psychologist.

I looked back at them as they continued to talk.
I could have ripped their heads off. But I didn't. My father wouldn't want to cause another funeral on his funeral.

They tried to comfort me. Comfort me? Claire and Marion needed comfort. My mother apparently not, which bothered me. I didn't need comfort. I needed my father.
And now he's gone. Taken away. Taken away from me. Taken away from me by Carlton.

I clenched and unclenched my fists.

Since I stepped in the church I came right over to the coffin and ordered them to open it. I didn't have to say a word. I gestured to it so they could open it. They said no and I gave them my death glare. Then they did.

It was the same thing my mind expected but my heart didn't.
The pain was still fresh as though a knife kept reopening back the wound. It hurt worse each time.

Kyle had his arms around my shoulders and he was holding me close. His warmth calmed me as I slowed down my breathing. He hadn't said anything to comfort me but a hug was best comfort at the moment, along with silence.

I continued to look at me father. The burns were gone somehow as though they healed. And I wished they healed. Then he would be alive.
The undertakers had done a good job of covering them up and make him look like he was asleep. His skin was pale, pale and still and stiff like a marble statue. He even looked that shiny. There was so much wax. He looked like he would get up any moment, look at me, smile and ask "What's going on here?"

That's all I wanted. I sighed. The first sound I had made in days.

I looked at Kyle had he was staring at my father, pain in his eyes. So much pain.
He looked at me and smiled.