Fat drops of rain were pounding against the ground as the casket was slowly lowered into the soggy earth. It was the funeral of Clay Nathaniel Grayben, age 17. Near the front of the minuscule crowd of onlookers, a girl no older than 15 was wiping the gathering tears out of her eyes.
'This can't be happening, she told herself,' as more of the salty liquid mixed in with the wetness dripping onto her face. 'He can't be gone, he's not careless enough to do something like this!'
She was refusing to believe the undeniable truth. All of the evidence was right there, in front of her very eyes.
Choking back a sob, she clutched her single memento of her brother. the ring he had never let out of his sight. Her whole heart had been filled with admiration for the boy, and sure, he had been a bit of an idiot at times, but he was like her second best friend. She thought back to all of their sleepless nights watching horror movies, playing video games and pigging out on candy. She thought of all of his teasing, about petty crushes she had once harbored and how she still slept with stuffed animals. Haunting her, it seemed, the memories kept coming, unrelentless in their task of reminding her that Clay was gone. The blonde had been so caught up with inner turmoil that she didn't even notice when she was guided away from the new gravesite and into a car.
"Come on, Kassandra, you need to eat something. It's time to get over Clay," my mother snapped at me.
Numbly, I shook my head. "How can you say that about your own son, I just don't understand how you can be such a terrible parent..."
It had been two weeks since the funeral, and I had refused almost all of the food that had been pushed in my direction. I was losing weight, and it was only going to get worse.
"Kassandra Nicole Grayben. If you don't eat this meal that your father worked so hard to make, I will personally force feed it to you, " she growled.
I sighed. "If you call 'working hard' microwaving a crap meal that tastes like cat food, then you're more messed up in the head than I thought..."
"You shall not speak to your mother that way!" I heard my so-called father call from our 'kitchen.' In actuality, it was more of a small table, a refrigerator and said microwave.
"I can do and say whatever the hell I want," I shout back, even so, it was still feeble. Still shaken up about my loss, there was hardly anything that resembled the old me, whether it be physically or mentally.
"That's it. You are going to your room this instant," the she-monster snarled, looking more like a beast with every passing second.
"Great, where I've wanted to be all day," I muttered, and made my way to the staircase. When I was finally in my room, I let out the tears that had been threatening to fall all day. "Clay…" I whispered, hoping that if I missed him enough he would come back. Sadly, I knew I was delusioning, and quickly dissmisssed the thought. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and leaned back against my bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Well, this is the first of the rewrites! I hope it was at least a little better than my first attempt (still pretty short...)! Anyways, I've been meaning to say this for a while. I'm impressed with all the positive feedback I've gotten on this. Thank you all so much! It means so much to me to know that you guys are still reading and enjoying (I hope! *sweatdrop*) 'Why Did You Have to Go and DIE On Me?'!