Addicted

Ch. 01 The funeral

" I will like to thank everyone that is here today, your support not only means a lot for me but to the rest of my family. My father as you all know was accused of being a drug dealer that case is still not solved. I know what people are saying about my father, that it was his fault for being in that type of business, associating with the bad people and messing with people way worst. Well, I'm going to tell you something that the newspaper didn't cover."

'I can do this, I can do this' I chant in my head over and over again. I paused to take a deep breath, and take a quick glance at the crowd, all of their eyes are on me. Some with bloodshot, others with painful expression and few like me, emotionally detached. My shaky hands flip to the next index card as I internally brace myself to speak again. To say I'm afraid is an understatement at this point. But I'm more terrified of not speaking, I'm afraid that if I don't they won't know the truth, the truth of who my father actually was.

"How strong and brave my father was, he was a single father raising a little girl all by himself, a man who would starve for days just to make sure his own child was fed."

My voice cracks at the end and I quietly scowl myself. Every time I get to this part my voice always fails me, I cleared my throat and continue.

"A man who spent long hours at work providing for his family. A man who threw his own future away just to make sure his daughter had one. Regardless of what others might say about my father, I know who he was and he was my hero."

I finish with my speech and I hear a few claps but mostly cries. I refused to look up though, I don't want to see their eyes filled with sympathy. I keep my head staring at my cards. When the noises die down and I can trust my voice not to crack. I mumble a quick 'Thank you'. As I walk down the stairs to take my seat next to Max, my friend, who have supported me throughout the whole thing, and for that, I love him to pieces. I scurry my hands into his, entwining them together tightly. "You did great, your father would be proud of you." He says a few moments later.

I sigh and nuzzle my head into his neck, trying to hide from everyone. They say it's five major steps to mourning. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Unfortunately, I'm only on stage three, it's been a whole week and I'm still not showing any progress. Denial was easy to get past, is hard to deny when the body is on your front porch. I cringe as the image comes back to me.

"Is there anyone else who would like to speak?" The preacher says, I practically had to beg him to let us in the church. Ever since the whole drug thing happened, the church we were going to since we moved to New York wouldn't let us in because of my father's 'unholy actions'. Just when the preacher is about to end the service a voice is echoed throughout the small church.

"Yes, I will." I turn my head to the very back to see a man standing. His skin flawlessly covered with an olive tone. His dark hair is in a tall quiff, his suite is tight fitting-complimenting his muscular built. He smiles when he realizes that everyone's attention is on him- self-absorb clearly. He flickers his eyes on me and as if someone punches me; my chest clench, not in a good way though. His smiles widen clearly amused by my reaction.

He licks his lips before he glazes the preacher, "May I?" The preacher eagerly nods his head, scurry away from the stage in a matter of seconds, which is impressive for him since I never seen his chubby self-move so fast. The man walks gracefully from his seat to the stage. When he is closer Max's grip on our entwine hands tighten.

When the man is in full view I can see him better, his eyes stay on me as he comes closer. He pauses between the first column and the stage. He bites his bottom lip before clearing his throat. "I'm truly sorry about your lost, Sage." He smiles- not a sympathy smile like the one I receive before but full amused smile as if this brings joy to him. He turns his head away from me and looks at the open cask. He shakes his head and continues to the stage.

"Hello, my name is Zayn, but I'm sure you all know that already." He pauses just to flash a quick smile. " but I don't. I don't think I ever saw this man before. Which makes me wonder he dies he know my father and more importantly hoe dues he know me. "I was lucky enough to get to know this man before his brutal death. This man that we are all mourning over, touch something deep down inside of me. Whether it was his bravery or strength he showed I don't know. But what I do know is that I will never forget him. And as much as you are all grieving about this, I mirror the same expression." He finishes.

He walks off the stage without saying a 'thank you' and there is no applauds, complete silence. He walks in front of me and sticks out his hand, I stare at it before pulling away from Max's and shake his hand. As soon as I place my hand in his soft, but slightly rough hand he tugs roughly and in a matter of seconds I'm up and my front is being pressed against his.

"Sage, Sage, Sage. It's a shame a tragic death has to happen for us to meet. For as long as I knew your father, you would think I would've seen you before." He sighs shaking his head. His minty breath hits my lips and I have to fight myself not stare at his lips as the words fall out effortlessly. He brings his lips over my ear. "Well, hopefully, we can change that now." His breath fans over my neck and I feel the goosebumps on my expose skin. His lips softly press against my jawline and my breath gets lost in my throat. Shaking his distracting beauty I frown. He looks too young to have known my father. He can't be too far away from my age in fact. "How do you know my father?" I questioned.

He smirks and walks away this time he doesn't bother to acknowledge the attention he has, he walks out of the door with another man, who is slightly taller than him. I exhale deeply not realizing I was holding my breath in before. Max's stands up and wraps his arms around me and carry me away, I keep my head down not facing any faces on purpose. I replay everything in my head from the morning to being carried out because I somehow forget how to walk. But despite my conditions, I only have one thing that been pondering my mind since the moment I heard a thick British accent.

Who the hell is he, and what does he want... From me.