Sitting here feeling as if I'm some sort of recreational tool for the weeping. The words I'm sorry for your loss repeat time and time again. It feels sort of like the Twilight Zone how each person says the same thing, does the same thing, and wears the same thing. We're all in uniforms; black depressing uniforms. They either cry or wear a face that resembles a black piece of paper. It makes me sick.
I'm all alone up here while I'm forced to shake hands and even give a hug and kiss once in a while. It's pretty terrible when I don't even know half the people, but while each one walks to me it keeps my eyes and focus off the two highly decorated caskets that hold my Mother and Father.
Earlier when I had first walked into this musty smelling funeral home and their lifeless bodies were exposed, I couldn't help, but to panic. My chest had started to ping while I felt bile finding its way up my throat.
Death had bothered me and still bothers me. As soon as my head started get dizzy I yelled for the undertaker to quickly close the casket.
That very moment was the last time I will ever physically see them because tomorrow they will be cremated and their ashes spread across the garden that we once spent as a family together every Sunday.
It wasn't my choice. I didn't want their ashes there, but when you're only seventeen you don't have the right hand in many things. It was my weak Grandmother who doesn't even have the guts to show up today. She left me.
Just like they left me.
When I start to feel my eyes move over to the front I turn and fake an even bigger smirk. With my eyeliner smudged and my lipstick smeared, I suspect I look like something along the lines of a clown.
The only mirror of myself I get is an occasional person who wears glasses, but that only lasts a good three seconds until the next person comes along.
A tall man wearing the usual comes by and shakes my hand, he's the last person until mass and I am sort of thankful.
"Thank you," I tell him, nodding my head slightly.
It will all be done soon, I tell myself. It will be over and you can go home and sleep.
"Grandma," I said, peaking into her little room that she often stays in. The old lady just continued to rock back and forth. I sighed walking into the room.
I grabbed the homemade quilt off her small, lop sided bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't say anything to me, but just looked up to me. She gripped the obituary in her fragile fingers.
"Grandma," I started, again. "Grandma, I'm just as-"
"You look like her." She turned away from me and all I could do was sit on her bed. "You look too much like her. It pains me." Her words sounded bitter and felt like acid. She glared at the wall.
"Grandma?" I questioned, gasping. "What are you saying?"
"Texas is only the next state over," she told me. I nodded in confusion.
"Grandma, I know, why are you telling me this?" She looked over at me and what she said will stay with me until I die.
"Pack a bag and go there. Don't come back," she spits. "I would rather die in this house alone instead of being reminded of such sin. Your Aunt will be there waiting for you and you will stay there. You will stay there until I die and don't you ever come back until I am well gone and buried."
That was exactly two days ago. Now, today, I sit on my Aunt's sofa looking around at her old newspaper clippings and posters. Her house had always given me a weird feeling. I remember it clearly from when I was younger.
We never stayed long, only enough for each sister to feel as if they cared, but in actuality they didn't. Their personalities often clashed and caused fights. I have only seen my Aunt a total of six times my whole life and the last visit was when I was thirteen.
Now, I sit here facing her. It's an awkward, heavy feeling on my shoulders as all we do is stare. She grins at me sympathetically.
"Your Mother was never easy, but so wasn't I," she tells me, getting up and pacing. Nodding, she continues, "I know I wasn't the best God Mother, but now we got to look past that. You live here now and," she pauses. "What's wrong?" She asks and I could smack her.
My parents just died and my Grandmother just cut me off the family tree, I felt like saying, but I hold my tongue.
Rolling her eyes, she says, "Oh, Penelope, please tell me you expected that?" Shaking her head, she points a finger at me. "Your Grandmother is a bitter old woman and she'll never change. There was only one thing-"
"Aunt Lou," I interrupt her, but I soon to realize that was the wrong thing to do.
"Excuse me?" She snaps, putting her hand on her hip and continuing to wave her finger at me. I frown and keep my mouth shut. My head kills and my stomach doesn't feel too lovely either.
"Like I was saying," she purses her lips. "Your Grandmother is a bitter old lady. There was only one thing she cared about and that was Lucy!" Lucy was my Mother's name.
"Aunty Lou," I say, again since she isn't speaking. "I hate to interrupt this lovely talk, but I traveled hours on end to get here and combining that with the last few events in my life, I'm a little tired."
"Well, that's too damn bad," she snaps, shaking her head. "Penelope Turner, shit happens in life and you are just going to have to get over it. You're a Walker now and we don't bitch."
I'm pretty sure my Mother and Grandmother use to, I regretfully muse in my head.
"Except for my Sister and Mother," she adds like she read my mind. Pointing to my simple luggage, she tells me that my room is the first door on the right upstairs. When I go to grab it, she stops me. "Don't worry, do it later, but right now, you have to go and eat."
I look over at her empty kitchen that doesn't have one sign that it was being used.
"Since you were last minute, I couldn't go food shopping in time," Aunty Lou smirks. "So, you either go hungry or you eat what they eat."
I remember when I was younger and I use to help with the mess hall. The food smelt terrible and looked like vomit and shit. I am hungry; I'd admit it, but not enough to eat that slop that they call food. I wasn't a picky eater, but I'm sure a dog wouldn't even eat that.
But I don't want to sound stuck up.
"Okay," I say and get it up. "I'll go and try to eat something. I haven't been feeling all that well," I tell her and she doesn't say a word to me as I leave.
A/n: Hello, I hope you like it. I wanted to write a camp green lake story, but wanted to make it a little different! ^^
I also have a role play that needs more people. It's a Holes one and we need people to rp canon characters. We already got quite a few of ocs. But yeah, if you want to join, just send me a pm and I will give you the link! ^^
Please read and review!
