It was not a fitting day for a funeral. Everything was doused in zealous golden rays, and green light filtered through onto the tombstones from oak trees that provided breath above. To Maia, however, it was an appropriate day for her brother's funeral. For her, it was a celebration. Of course, she should have been mourning along with all else who were present at the service though she still could not overcome the utter relief that she felt knowing that her brother's cold, lifeless body would be buried deep beneath that earth where it could no longer plague her. She dipped her head and stared at the concrete of the cemetery avoiding the eyes of her sorrowful relatives, only feeling slightly guilty.
She could feel her mother quivering next to her with contained tears and her father's firm hand on her shoulder. She blocked out the preacher's monotonous droning and looked at the coffin. Her brother, Daniel had been her sole tormentor since his birth. He was perfect in her parents eyes for they were blinded by his beauty and could not even bare to excavate further into his . . . evil intentions. He was the kind of boy who smiled innocuously when required and then turned around to scheme another vicious plot. He would burn the wings off of butterflies and watch their decrepit bodies flutter to the ground, laughing the whole time. He stoned cats and stole things from his parents, placing the blame on others. He was also bent on torturing Maia, switching her shampoo with bleach and pinching her where it wouldn't show, concealed by her clothing. Maia had considered telling her parents though knew that he would always win. His parents, along with the majority of the world confused his good looks with innocence and harmlessness. Now he was gone, unable to harm her any longer. Maia could not help but feel happy.
The ceremony continued dully and the tears began to subside. Then, people who Maia barely knew came up giving her hugs of consolation and words of encouragement. She didn't hear them and their words were lost as if she were underwater. She could only think of how her liberation would not last long, and soon she would be smote by the cosmic powers, punished for her happiness. But at the moment, she couldn't have cared less.
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Life after Daniel's death was surprisingly bitter sweet. Her parents sunk into an irreversibly morose state and rarely spoke. Any reminder to Daniel caused them both to grow terse and sullenly nostalgic. Maia could often hear her mother's anguished sobs through the walls at night. This did, in affect, pain Maia though she was still pleased by the thought of her brother's passing. It was a morbid fact, but a fact nonetheless.
She began to have horridly vivid nightmares. He would always see him from a distance at first and then, upon spotting her, he would saunter slowly to her side, making each step a mocking gesture. She would be consumed by a desire to flee though she stood rooted in place, petrified by her own fear and guilt. To anyone else, this would not be a concern but for Maia every moment was insufferable torture. She tried, ineffectually, to forget him, to remind herself that he was gone, that he no longer posed a threat though the dreams continued and she grew restless and anxious.
Sometimes she would catch her mother, Claire, staring at her peculiarly. She would always smile and then look away, preoccupy herself with something else though Maia was oddly disturbed by the way she looked at her. It was a look of contempt and distain. It was as if she wished that Maia had been the one that had been hit by the car and not Daniel. It was as if she were responsible for her brother's passing. It was as if she was worthless and unworthy of life. She shook these thoughts off, thinking that solitude had made her paranoid. The concept always lingered however and every time Claire watched her in that way, the paranoia raged.
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She walked into the coffee shop and slipped into line. She watched as hurried activity flourished and people chattered excitedly. Someone in front of her cleared his throat. She looked up at the cashier with an ever-so-bored look and stare of impatience.
"Um, I'll have one grande decaf." She made it sound like a question and he looked at her strangely. "Wait, wait, no. Could you make that a regular?" she asked after second thought. She needed caffeine and felt horribly drowsy. She had been up all night, fearful of more horrific nightmares. They always tended to get worse, more and intense, when she was going to go visit Daniel. The cashier looked quite irritated and looked about ready to pop. She decided to push him jus a bit further and fished the appropriate money from her pocket slowly, counting out the change and then purposefully ignored the tip jar with a mocking smile.
She stood in the corner, waiting for her coffee. With a smirk, she wondered if maybe she would find a coughed up piece of phlegm in her coffee and idly examined her nails that had been bitten down to form jagged crescents.
Someone came to stand next to her, waiting as well. She peeked over her shoulder to see a boy leaning against the wall calmly. He was the very typical guy who's good-looking and knows it too. He wasn't very original, long dark hair, playfully menacing charcoal eyes that seemed to be able to mentally undress you. Maia turned and ignored him with a sigh well acquainted and wary of his type.
"I hate that I'm addicted to this stuff," he grumbled. "I mean honestly, where do these people get off when they make you order using 'tall' 'grande' or' veinti' when all you want is a freaking 'small' 'medium' or 'large'? And then they overcharge you!"
She thought that he was talking to himself or perhaps to someone else close in proximity and hearing range. It shocked her when he turned to smirk smugly at her and cross his arms over a faded indie-rocker t-shirt splatter with paint.
She struggled to regain composure. "We'll we're all addicted. They can do whatever the hell they want."
He shrugged, "It's just very irritating." He turned to her. "Doesn't it bother you?"
Maia raised an eyebrow. "I'm not one to complain. If you don't like it, you don't have to give them your business."
"But that's the point," he argued. "I'm too damn dependant on my morning caffeine hype."
Maia made a gesture that vaguely translated to "whatever" and returned to examining her cuticles.
"I'm Jordan, by the way" he persisted.
Maia bit back some irritation. "Charmed, I'm sure," she muttered.
"One grande decaf for Maia," the boy from the cash register called. Maia sighed, remembering that she had ordered a regular. She walked toward the door, venturing one last glace at Jordan still slouched against the wall, smirking.
"Leaving already?" he asked, his warm eyes coolly examining her.
She stopped, door partially opened, and smiled at him tersely. "Sorry I couldn't stay and chat, I'm in a hurry. My parents and I are visiting my brothers gravesite and I can't miss it." Maia turned and stalked through the door before he could form and response. Pulling up her hood, she ventured into the drizzling rain. Although she didn't look back, she could feel his gaze appraising her every step and got into her car, perturbed and disoriented.