Mr Kingston's Roommate | ꪜ

Mr Kingston's Roommate|49

Leila's POV
Burn

—One week later—

Today we were burying her. I couldn't find it in myself to shed a tear the entire week despite Blake reassuring me that it was okay to cry. I wanted to, I could feel the tears trying to force their way out of my eyes but that was just the thing, would I be grieving genuinely if I needed to force them out?

I loved my mother, what child doesn't? She gave me life, she took care of me, held me at night, cradled me to sleep. But. . .she also abused me, blamed me for my brother's death, hit me whatever chance she got and was never apologetic for everything she did to her only daughter till the end.

Was I supposed to forget all of that and grieve her? I can't because this feels like a dream. I saw her a few weeks ago and now people are telling me she's dead. Am I seriously supposed to believe that? Am I supposed to believe that the woman who I claimed to hate was now laying in a casket, no longer breathing? "You ready?" Blake's hand tightened against my shoulder, snapping me out of my reverie.

Sam and Midge were still on vacation, they couldn't make it back in time to come to the funeral with me. Blake wasn't supposed to come with me for obvious reasons, but I can't do this alone. Plus, It's not like I wanted to cut their vacation short anyways. If I end up leaving the building in zero tears I'd feel sorry for dragging them there for no reason. "Yeah," I mumbled and soon after we were standing in the elevator in complete silence.

Time seemed to move at the speed of light, one moment I was standing in an elevator wondering what life would be like now that my mother was no longer here, the next I'm sitting in Blake's car, my forehead pressed against the window as I watched buildings zoom by as we drove. We were riding back into my hometown, and although I could have gotten ready at my old house I didn't want to.

I was afraid then I'd have no reason to hold back my tears and I'd have a complete mental breakdown. I lost my brother, now my mother. That house holds way too many memories for me to ever step foot inside again. I'm making a pact to myself today to never return there. If my father chooses to see me, then he'll have to find another way because I'm not walking into a haunted house.

~~~

Blake and I trekked down the aisle. The seats that ran down from the back to the front of the church were filled with people I recognized from my childhood growing up. Old neighbours, family friends, neighbourhood kids, even faculty from my old elementary and high school. Apparently, my presence had awoken a frenzy of whispers and sympathetic stares.

Yes, I'm the girl who lost both her brother and mother in the span of four years, nice to meet you. "Leila," I tilted my head towards the familiar voice to see my father approaching me, adorned in a black suit. . .not just any suit, it was the one he wore on their wedding. His eyes were dull, drained of its usual bright light, much like how he appeared after Kyle's death.

The only difference now is he has someone who will take care of and grieve with him, something mom never did after Kyle's death. "Dad," I mumbled in monotone. Too occupied by his own breakdown, he didn't seem to realize that I haven't shed a tear as yet as he pulled me into his arms in a tight hug. "Uhm, d-do you want to see her?"

I pulled away from his arms and shook my head stiffly, "no," it was as if those were the only words I could say, 'no, I'm fine, it's okay, I'm okay.' It was beginning to become draining because I knew it wasn't true. But the tears just weren't falling and maybe that makes me a horrible person. . .maybe it doesn't. I'm not the one to judge, neither is no one else because they don't know what went on in my house.