This chapter will be sort of the end of part 1 of the story. I will try and update as often as I can, revision allowing. Enjoy :) x
Chapter 28
Jenny sat at the dressing table in her room, staring unseeingly at herself in the mirror and ignoring the murmurs and muffled conversations issuing up from downstairs. She had bought a new black suit especially for today, unable to bring herself to wear something from her own wardrobe to her fiancés funeral; she knew she'd be constantly wondering if she had wore that particular dress whilst she was sneaking off to be with Cutter. Half of her hair was swept up into a pin, the rest hanging loose around her shoulders in gentle curls. Her makeup was soft and dignified; most of the cuts she had picked up whilst running for her life had been successfully covered up. She could barely remember anything from the last week; only a dull aching in her stomach that every now and then dissolved into a stabbing agony when she allowed herself to really examine the constant guilt she felt. Most of the time she maintained a mental block on all things to do with Mark, but it drained her, and so every so often she felt herself slip.
There were no words in existence that could be used to describe the trauma of the past week. Lester had pulled out all the stops in concocting up a car crash story to cover for the creature attack, and so Jenny was expected to bleat the same lies to her in-laws and her own family, saying that she and Mark had been in a horrific traffic collision and only she had survived, bruised and battered, but otherwise fine. Now she thought about it, it must have been rather convenient for Lester that she had been slashed by all the branches and injured by the creature pouncing on her. She supposed it looked more convincing.
There was a knock on the door behind her, but she ignored it, knowing that it'd be someone telling her that they needed to start making their way to the church – and she didn't think she could bring herself to go . . .
The door opened swiftly, and her mother's face appeared in the reflection in the mirror. She was dressed in a black suit not dissimilar to her own, although her head adored a large black hat, making her look very regal.
"Jennifer," she said in an unnaturally gentle voice as she walked over to her, placing a hand on Jenny's shoulder. "The Hurst is here. We've got to get in the cars now."
"I – I don't think I can go," Jenny said dazedly, looking up at her mother's reflection.
"Well you have to," her mum said sharply, retracting her comforting hand. "You don't have a choice. How would it look if you refused to attend your own fiancé's funeral?"
"I don't give a damn how it looks!" Jenny snapped, carefully wiping away the tears from under her eyes, trying not to smudge her mascara.
Her mother seemed to hesitate for a second, before crouching down level with her, looking at her hard in the mirror. "I know you're taking a lot of the guilt upon yourself," she said in an understanding tone that Jenny thought her incapable of. "I know you feel ashamed that you were cheating on him - "
"Mum, don't - " Jenny began, closing her eyes and looking away as the guilt stabbed her again.
"I'm just saying that you don't need to," her mother finished, putting her hand on her arm. "Just because you and Mark were going through a rough patch the past few months, it does not negate all those years that you were both madly in love. I saw you two together – I know. You made him so happy Jennifer. So whenever you feel guilty, you just think back to all those good times, okay?"
Jenny looked back up at her mother as a tear cascaded down her cheek. If only that was the only reason she felt guilty.
"Maybe just see this funeral as the last thing you can do for Mark," her mother continued, squeezing her comfortingly. "Hmm? Giving him a good send off is an excellent way to make it up to him."
"Mum," Jenny sobbed before she could contain herself, finding her understanding too much to bear. "I can't get up in front of all those people after what I've done," she admitted, shaking her head. "After I just let him die - "
"This is just survivor's guilt," her mother said, nodding wisely as she brushed a stray hair out of Jenny's face. "It's quite common when a loved one dies in an accident that you survive. But sweetheart - " she added, tuning her round to face her on the swivelling stool. "Don't let this destroy you. Don't let this eat you up inside. Mark wouldn't want that."
Jenny let out a dry laugh, feeling pretty certain that wherever Mark was right now, he would be wanting her to suffer eternally for what she did to him. He would want her to punish herself for being responsible for his death.
The service passed Jenny in a blur; like it was the mass was being said for some stranger and she was just watching from the side lines. When she had gotten out of the car and walked into the church, arm in arm with her brother, she had seen Abby, Connor and Stephen milling about at the back of the crowds, looking both awkward and solemn. They had obviously attended to show their support, which she really did appreciate, although she couldn't help but notice with a pang that Cutter wasn't there. He must have either felt like it would be inappropriate to attend the funeral of a man whose fiancée he had been sleeping with, or else he had reasoned that his presence would be the last thing that Jenny needed. He was probably right on both accounts, she thought to herself.
". . . and now we will hear a poem from Mark's loving and devoted fiancée, Jennifer Lewis," the priest said unexpectedly, casting a sad smile in Jenny's direction.
Caught off guard, she froze in her pew. She had known she was going to get up and speak, but she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't realised that half the service had passed already.
"So Jennifer, if you want to come up here?" the priest prompted her kindly, gesturing up at the podium.
Swallowing painfully, Jenny got to her unsteady feet and slowly stepped up to the altar. Her hands trembled violently as she fiddled with the piece of paper she held. Knowing that she had flushed bright red, she finally succeeded in unfolding the sheet. She cleared her throat, willing herself over and over again not to break down . . . not to cry . . .
"When I come to the end of the road," she began, trying to amplify her shaking voice, "and the sun has set on me; I want no rites in a gloom filled room," she paused, letting out a shaky exhale, "why cry for a soul set free," she continued, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as the unpractised words seemed to tug at her heart strings. "Miss me a little – but not for too long, and not with your head bowed low. Remember the love - " her voice broke again into a sob, and she but the back of her quaking hand up to her mouth. "Remember the love that we once shared," she tried again, her voice now so weak and shaky that she doubted whether anyone would be able to understand her. "Miss me – but let me go - "
That was it; she couldn't go on. There was much more to say . . . but she couldn't bear the crushing guilt anymore.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the microphone, before stepping down from the podium and taking off down the aisle as fast as her heels would allow.
She could hear people calling her back and she caught sight of the familiar and yet hostile faces as she went, but she blocked them out, needing to get as far away from these people as possible. She didn't stop running until she reached the graveyard. The winter sunlight was harshly bright; making her eyes hurt more than they already did with the constant crying. Without looking back, she started down the path, her mind rushing a mile a minute.
She'd get home, grab her passport, throw a bunch of clothes in a suitcase, and just take off. Who cared where – she just needed to get away. Away from her friends and family, away from the ARC . . . away from Cutter . . .
"Jenny!" Cutter's voice cut unexpectedly into the stillness of the graveyard.
Surprised, she turned to see him, smartly dressed, and hovering by the large oak tree that was growing wild at the side of the winding path. He had clearly wanted to pay his respects without being seen by anyone. She froze, unsure of whether to speak to him . . . whether to say goodbye . . .
"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously as he stepped towards her, his hands in his pockets.
"Away," she stated, her voice still faint.
"Away where?" he demanded, looking confused as his eyes searched her face.
The calming influence those blue eyes usually had on her was no longer there. There was nothing he could do or say to make her feel better, she understood that. She needed to get away and clear her head, no matter how long it took.
"Goodbye Nick," she stated quietly, giving him a final look up and down before turning on her heel and walking off.
"Jenny!" he shouted after her, sounding panicked.
But she didn't look back.
Before she knew it, she was in a taxi on her way home, wanting to be out of the country before anyone got wind of the fact that she was leaving.
Before anyone could try and stop her.
