Out of every emotion he could experience, Ghost felt nothing right now. He was numb and he welcomed the lack of feeling. It was preferable over the desolation he felt after Dre told him that Kanan had killed his own son in cold blood. It was much more palatable than the rage he felt while being held at gunpoint by his "nephew", a young man just shy of still being a boy, and finding out that not only had Shawn planned to kill him but that his key motivation was his infatuation with his wife.
Ghost looked over to Tasha as she cried silently, her eyes looking forward at the casket in the front of chapel. His son, Tyriq, held his mother's hand in strong support along with his twin sister's, while dealing with the loss as well. He was confused and so was Raina. They couldn't understand how something like this could happen to Shawn. Ghost and Tasha had no real answer to give them. Only empty platitudes about when it's your time, it's your time.
The pastor ended his eulogy and one of the ushers closed the casket. Tasha's body shook with quiet sobs and while Ghost wanted to feel anger at his wife crying over the loss of another man, he found it hard to hold on to that anger. As much as he'd tried to shift blame, he knew that he had to take responsibility for his hand in this series of events. He placed an arm around her shoulders to provide comfort, but instead of warming to his embrace, her reaction to his touch was frigid as she sat rod straight. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it surely wasn't that reaction.
He resisted the urge to immediately release his embrace and instead looked on as Jarita, Shawn's mother, broke down in wailing sobs, asking how this could have happened. Pleading for her son to come back to her, knowing it was a fruitless request as her son had gone to meet his maker with no chance for return. Kanan, that sick son of a bitch, had shot him in the head to make sure he'd finished him off. Ghost felt not one shred of remorse for setting the building on fire as Kanan lay in a pool of his own blood. He was going to hell anyway, so he may as well get used to the flames. It was an apt send off.
The swell of the organ seemed to drown out the sobs as Ghost and the other pallbearers were signaled to the front of the chapel. He had expected the anger and the accusations from Jarita as he reached the casket. Her son had basically been in his "care" and when he'd hired Shawn to be his driver after his career ending injury, Ghost had promised her that he'd keep her son away from the street life. It was a promise he'd mostly kept, unbeknownst to her, but that didn't matter.
What Ghost hadn't expected, however, was the accusatory look of rage his wife aimed directly at him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Power or its characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.