The funeral was scheduled three days the news.

Isabella didn't speak once during those three days.

The Brenden's neighbor Fiona, who just turned 78, volunteered to plan the funeral. She said it reminded her of when she planned her third husband's funeral and practice for her own. Izzy couldn't be bothered to choose the place and time and what flowers were to be placed around the coffin.

She missed her mom.

Gary and Danielle and their families came over every day to help clean and cook and take care of Izzy. She didn't want to get out of bed unless for food or bathroom breaks. They had to force feed her applesauce and french fries for a full hour until it stayed down.

The funeral came and went, just as her mom did. Only a couple friends of her mom came along with some coworkers. Gary and Danielle and their families came. Those two were the only reason she was still kicking. The service was short and straight to the point. Her mom was dead, they were sad, we should celebrate her life and not mourn her death. The usual spiel.

When Gary's mom dropped her off at her house when it was over, a cop car was sitting in her driveway.

Isabella walked slowly towards the vehicle, waiting for the driver to show themselves.

It was the shorter policeman.

"Isabella, hello, I hope I didn't come at a bad time. I wanted to bring you your mom's things. They're yours now," and he placed the box in Isabella's open arms.

"By the way, child protective services will be swinging by in a week to see how you are doing. If you can't find a relative to stay with they'll have to put you in a girls' home." And she left.

Tears blurred her vision. They made it hard when she walked inside to the dining table and set the box down.

She mumbled, "Keys, wallet, photo..." She paused.

Her phone.

There was a memory, very distant and old. Faded.

When she was little her mom would tell her the same thing every time. Not so much lately now that she was older. And the fact she's dead. She cringed, holding the tears back once again.

"If anything bad happens, call him."

She never asked who "Him" was, but Isabella was nine last time she heard that phrase.

She picked up the device, guessing the pass code correctly. Clicking on her mom's contact list, she started looking. For a name, an address, anything different of out of place that would tell her who to call. She stopped at a contact she had never seen before, a name that sent her stomach forward.

Him

She clicked on "Him". She didn't know what to expect. Her stomach was churning and her head was spinning slightly. She was nervous.

There was a number. No address, no email, no Facebook link. Just the seven digits and an area code.

There's a contact note, she realized. She had to read it.

When she was done, Isabella pulled out her own phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in a while.

"Hey Alexys, yeah, I need a favor."

___________________________

So yeah short chapter, still probably sucks but ya know what haters gonna hate so boohoo

Love you guys :)

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