It wasn't supposed to happen life this. Not to me. I've spent all my life doing everything right, haven't I? Is this punishment? But for what? A child's worst fear, burying their parents. Sure I've thought about how it might be sixty years from now. My dad, grey but still young at heart, telling horrible stories about me to his grandchildren. My mom, chiding him relentlessly with the ghost of her youth in her eyes. But now that fantasy has been ripped from me cold-blooded.
It's been a week since the day, but I can still see the two lifeless bodies lying in the too bright hospital room, side by side. I kept insisting it wasn't them, that is was just a nightmare I wasn't able to wake up from. I vaguely remember the nurses patronizing looks of pity, but the words they spoke were drowned out by the two words replaying in my head uttered merely moments before by the head surgeon. "I'm sorry."
I'm actually not sure why I didn't cry then. Again, somewhere far away, a nurse muttered the word shock. That was the first time I felt the urge to get violent. I whipped my head around and glared at the nurse, only to get a small smile and another look of pity that I didn't appreciate at all.
"Of course I'm in shock," I replied angrily. "My parents dead bodies are in the room behind me!" I finished, breathing heavily as something strange began happening to me. I couldn't move. A noise filled my ears, like the sound of an irksome fly buzzing around inside my head. No matter how many times I shook my head the buzzing kept on. I don't know how long I stood there in silent turmoil. It could have been a few minutes or hours but before I knew what was happening I was being guided out of the hospital into a police car.
The ride seemed to last seconds as I was corralled out of the car into an empty house. Could I even call this place home anymore without my parents here? I tried to listen to the officer who was speaking seriously beside me. I caught a few words like "underage, mother's sister, and counselor." They were crazy if they thought I needed any type of counseling but I couldn't find my words to argue with the man. I just stood silently, all actions taken from me.
The next few days were a blur to me. People came in and out of the house all day long. They all kept asking if I was okay. I would answer yes, but everyone knew I was lying. I was just tired. Before I knew it, it was the day of the funeral. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice service. I was quite surprised at the amount of people that came to show their respects to my parents. In hindsight, I should have known that two of the most respected people in Lima, my mother being a lawyer and my father the best surgeon at Lima General Hospital, would have gained a lot of supporters throughout the years.
After the service went from person to person, numbly being hugged, smothered even, but I had no energy to object. When everyone else left the cemetery, I finally just let myself feel. Sobs wracked my body and the tears I had refused to shed for days, came pouring down my burning cheeks. I wept loudly. The angry profanities that streamed from my lips soon turned into desperate begging. Asking anyone or anything to have my mom hold me or my dad crack a joke to make me smile. Not surprisingly it never came. The silence was only broken by the sound of birds chirping in the trees behind me. I wiped my cheeks and slowly composed myself, took one last look at the fresh mound of dirt in front of the giant slab of marble and slowly walked to my car. During my slow trip, I finally realized that I'd be heading back into an empty house. That notice started the stinging in my eyes again as a few errant tears ran down my face once more. With a deep breath, I shut off the vehicle and got out of the car and walked slowly up the driveway and entered the house.
