Unexpected(Harry Styles AU)

Chapter 1

It's been a week since my dads passing and I'm sure I've gone into a depression. Depression is a never ending pit of darkness, pain, and just not wanting to do anything.

I've been in bed for the whole week only getting up when absolutely necessary, and right now is no exception. My body feels heavy and tense. Each breath is a project and each beat of my heart almost unwillingly.

My door creaks open and I look at my sad mom through my piles of blankets. "Hi mija." she sniffs and crosses the room and gather me into her arms. I wince at the end, my dad called me the same thing last week. We sob into each others arms.

"Mom I miss him so much." I cry as my shoulders shake violently.

"I do too. The funeral is today." she sniffs and brings her thumb under my eye to collect the tears.

"I'll leave you to get ready." she kisses my head and stands to walk out, all hunched over like a aged old women. She lightly shuts the door as I wipe my bitter tears and run my hair through my unwashed, greasy black hair.

I stand, as my bones pop, then walk to my bathroom. I flinch at my reflection, no qualms, sad blank eyes with heavy bags under them.

I hop in my shower. The memory of my Father being shot right in front of my eyes have scarred me so deep. It's like I have no point if being here. I also can't help but think that I could of prevented all this, I could of just came out or not went through all of last years drama. I have a strong feeling that they were here for that. I cry as I wash my hair, this pain seems to be a never ending abyss.

This whole week I could hear my moms loud sobs through our thick walls. She isn't in any better shape either, her whole chipper Ora is well, now dead along with my beloved father.

I get out and don't pay attention to what a grab I just want to sleep and never get up. I don't do my make up either, I don't care about what I look like. I could have a giant pimple on my nose, the size if china and I wouldn't care. I would take a giant permanent pimple over losing my dad any day. Wow I'm going crazy, I'm really thinking if pimples to amuse me.

I look in the mirror and lucky for me my outfit matched. A plain black hoody, yoga pants and my black flip flops. I don't care that you're suppose to dress nice for funerals, this is my dads and I'm grieving and I do not care what people have to say or think about it.

I slowly walk to the living to find my mom with a picture frame held tightly to her heart. She is in a black fitted dress, black pantie hoes, and black heels. Her hair in a messy lose pony tail, but it looks nice, well she looks so much better than me, only clothes wise. Mentally we're both in a horrible state.

I place my hand carefully on her bony shoulder as she looks up at me. So much sorrow, are filling her small grey eyes. Her beautiful face has seemed to age in the last week as wrinkles are more obvious, mainly because she doesn't have makeup on, but still she looks like she's 50 compared to her actual 37 years.

I take the picture and see its the collage one. One of my first birthday, with my dad holding me with my favorite smile. The one next to it is their wedding day, with her poofy white dress and him in a crisp suit, and then a picture of my birth.

I let out a loaded sigh. I grab her small cold hands and heave her up into a hug with my hand cradling her head, the other wrapped around her thin waist as she squeezes my tightly.

"We'll get through this." I say into her hair, to her but also myself. I know my dad wouldn't want us falling apart with grief and would want us to be strong, but it's hard. With my whole body seems to be filled with nothing but sadness. Like my veins no longer held blood, but tears.

"I know we will," she smiles sadly at me. I can see how hard she's trying to stay together, for my sake. But I can see her tough walls cracking.

"Lets get going mija" she suggest. I nod even though my body is telling me to scream and hide in my bed and to sleep and never leave the house again.

She grabs my hand lovingly and leads me to the silver car. I've never been that close with my mom but I felt like I had to lean on her, mentally for support. My dad has always been my rock. I love my mom so much but me and my dad, we were just inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

He took me everywhere like the park, sports, I remember this one time he took me to this deer feeding farm place and the deer ate food from my hands. I remember I saw this baby deer and I swore on everything it was Bambi. He told me it wasn't with a humored laugh, and i cried until he agreed with the 6 year old me.

He has always been the typical dad. He didn't like boys around me cause he literally always thought that me and the guy were together or we're having sex, but I guess that's just a dad thing.

I used to get so mad when he didn't let me hang out with my guy friends with my best girl friends and through a fit. But now I understand that I took everything for granted. You never understand, or appreciate what you have until its taken right out from underneath you without warning. Things like this make you realize something, life is so fragile and be taken away within seconds.

"Honey we're here." My mother says breaking me out if my trance, that brought me to tears.

Then it hits me, we're here. I'm going to have to watch my daddy be buried 6 feet under. It really hasn't hit me that it was actually happening till now. This past week I have been hoping and praying that he'll walk in the door and hug me and yell "hola bonita chica!" then pull me into his warm embrace.

"Okay." I finally say.

"Are you ready?" she asks gripping me hand.

"I guess," Ha. No. Yeah let's bury your father and ask if you're ready, cause that makes sense.

I open the car door and the first thing I see is the big Catholic Church. The large cross that hangs on the front of the church, with Jesus being crucified. It looks old and very legit.

I go to church close to every Sunday, because church has always been a big deal for our family. I didn't go to any church services this whole week, because I feel like God just doesn't care about me, like why kill my father? The most honest and caring man. It doesn't make sense, most people would be going to The Lord now more than ever for his comfort and grace, but I just can't.

My mom grabs my hand again and pulls me into the cool church, as my heart rams against my ribs. I look down the rows of family and friends, all here to morn over my father. Right in front on the stage area his golden brown coffin lies there surrounded by multiple colored flowers, religious objects and a big picture of him on a stand.

My tears roll down my checks freely as I take my seat in the front row next to my aunt, my dads sister, and her husband and kids. Then my grandparents next to them.

The grief and sadness rolls through the air like a crash of waves. I can't do this, I can't just sit here and listen to the pastor read bible scriptures, and hear sniffs and watch people cry. It's to much to handle just watching all of this and watch as people that hardly knew him cry for us.

But somehow I keep my cool throughout the how thing and don't flip out. When its time for him to put into the ground, I know I can't just sit by and watch.

"Mom I can't do this." I whisper when we make it to the cemetery. "I know baby." She kisses my forehead softly and we watch him being lowered. The reality of this all is like a punch in the gut by a professional fighter. My heart, I can feel it slowly drop to my stomach, each inch he is lowered into the ground and never be seen again.

I'll never feel his gentle hugs and kisses on my forehead. I'll never hear his deep but gentle voice, or his contagious laugh. I'll never see his bright smile or his caring eyes. He was such a gentle man.

"It's okay baby," she whispers as she pulls me into a rough hug. I know nothing will be the same from here on out once his body is fully put into his grave.

"Goodbye Daddy," I whisper.

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Next update: June.18,2014