Prologue

I have written a short prologue introducing my story. I would first like to know if people are interested before I continue it. I promise the next part will be longer. Feedback is appreciated. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I no own Bizenghast. : (

"You know, they're saying it was a hit and run accident - not even that bad. In fact, they're saying he could've lived through it, but a huge piece of glass from the windshield was lodged straight through his heart!"

"Oh my gosh!"

"I know!"

Dinah put her head down and tried to ignore the infuriating girls behind her. Who did they think they were, speaking of Vincent's death as if it were a new piece of gossip?!

"Funny . . . I don't remember seeing anything about it in the newspaper."

" . . . You read the paper?" They giggled, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. It was strange - she could face down spirits, look death straight in the eye, but when it came to a couple of gossiping girls she was overwhelmed. Their words echoed in her mind, bring back the memories of what had really happened the night Vincent died.

"So did you go to the funeral?"

"Of course! It's Vincent, after all. Wouldn't you have gone if you had known?" She sighed. "He's so cute."

"You mean he was so cute."

"Oh, yeah." They giggled again. "That's terrible. You're really terrible, Leah!"
Dinah wanted to turn around and stab them in their pretty little faces. She very well may have, had their laugher not died away, replaced by a confused silence. "But . . . His parents weren't there. It was the strangest thing. I guess they were too heartbroken to even attend the funeral . . . But it's very peculiar if you ask me."

"That is strange . . ." For a second, a silence settled between them, and Dinah dared to hope that it was over. "So . . . Who else was at the funeral?" Her hopes were dashed.

"Oh, you know. A couple of people. Not a lot of people really cared all that much. A few classmates of his. There was also a guy and his . . . um . . . . cat - I think - hanging out with . . ." Even though her back was turned to them, she could feel their eyes on her.

"Oh, well of course." The other girl said in a stage whisper. "Did she say anything?"

"No. God, she's so weird. I mean, it looked like they were really close. You'd think if they were really good friend she'd want to speak at his eulogy. But she just sat there. Apparently she didn't care about him at all if she couldn't find one nice thing to say about him."

"Did she at least cry?"

"No! She just sat there like a zombie! I don't know what he saw in her - he could've done so much better." She wasn't bothering to whisper now. Through the rest of the class, Dinah endured the girl's gossiping. Toward the end, their conversation turned mostly to insulting her behind her back. She was grateful - she could handle being the center of their conversation. But if she had to listen to them go on about Vincent, she would lose her sanity all together.

No one understood her. No one understood that she couldn't bring herself to talk about Vincent, that even speaking a few words at his funeral would've pushed her over the brink. No one realized that she was so far beyond sadness that she couldn't even cry anymore. She was past tears and into something completely different: a mind numbing despair that left her utterly paralyzed.

There was only one person who could have understood her, one person who could have looked past her strange behavior and helped her to feel like she wasn't completely lost. Yes, there was one, and only one, who could ever make her feel like she wasn't alone. And now he was dead . . .

She was alone.