The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: #19
Pen Name: TisTaiOre
Pairing/Character(s): Paul
Rating: T
Word Count: 436
Photo prompts can be found here:
thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
Night had fallen when Paul finally pulled his truck to a stop. There had been no time for flowers or to change into the usual somber clothes that a funeral seemed to require.
The offhand comment earlier had taken him by surprise. He doubted that the elderly woman, a great aunt twice removed, had meant to cause such distress. There had been a call made a few days prior that his mom had passed away. Her funeral was being held that day and she asked if he remembered which cemetery it was in, to send flowers.
The news had hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. He didn't remember much of the woman who had been his mother. Over the years she had become just a faded memory. So much of that time of his childhood was a blur. He remembered little beyond the fights and being scared as he hid in his closet with his action figures. It seemed like something that had happened to someone else.
It had taken hours to locate any family member to find out the location of the funeral. Hours in which he had started to unravel. Leah had overheard him as he raged at some useless person on the phone. She had gotten him to calm down enough to explain. The sympathy in her eyes had nearly been his undoing. She never flinched as he screamed at her. The guilt and the pain mixed together to a numbing pointless pressure that made it hard to breathe. When he quieted Leah made him go run some of it off. She made the calls and had an address when he returned.
There was no way to make the funeral in time. Actually attending didn't really matter. It didn't have to make sense, but he still had to go. He had to be there the day she was buried. His family may have all but disappeared but there was still the lingering feeling of obligation. This was his mother. His mother. He had to see, to know for sure.
There had been offers from the pack to go with him. He knew they meant well but he couldn't stand the thought of having to try to make conversation with anyone. He was better off alone.
Eight hours and five hundred miles later he sat in the dark cemetery trying to find the courage to say goodbye to the woman who had abandoned him so many years ago. Inside the angry wolf the small boy in the closet still loved his mom.
His hands shook as he opened the car door.