I went to his funeral. There weren't very many people there, just me, Toby, and Sean – the last ones to see him die. I'm fairly sure that Jimmy would've come to, if he hadn't been unconscious in the hospital now, on the brim of death. It seemed that death was making its way around Degrassi quite frequently now, and to tell the truth, it scared me.

The funeral was held in a church, filled with chairs, tables, and all of the food I could've ever asked for spilled out on buffets. There was a microphone at the front of the room, and the pastor that prayed in his name looked kind of worn down as he glanced out at the four of us – his mother was there as well, but his father 'hadn't been able to make it.' Apparently he'd been on business, but I don't know what could've been more important than his own child's funeral, for heaven's sake.

I felt bad about coming, really, I did. After all, it was one of those ironic experiences that makes you feel like you were the cause of the problem. Maybe I was. After all, hadn't he turned to me? Wasn't I the one that had held his heart, or so he believed? Wasn't it my responsibility to love him back in order to keep his heart from being wrenched out of his stomach? I'd asked Toby over and over, striving to keep my tears from falling in a cascade across my cheeks, but he wouldn't have known. He just told me that it wasn't my fault, there was nothing I could've done… But he didn't know. He wasn't there. Sean? Well, let's just say that things between us were definitely over. It was hard to talk to him – like, really talk to him – anymore. We had formed a gap that couldn't be breached. We were separate now, never again to be a union. That was why I found my security in Toby.

Toby was everything anyone could possibly want in a friend. He was compassionate for others, always willing to give a hand when I needed to be pulled back up. He wasn't drawn into the world of sports and fighting, and he always had time for me, which made me feel happier than I had in a long time. My life was hard, believe it or not, and being Emma Nelson certainly wasn't easy. There were constant rumors flying about, and it was sometimes hard to tell whether my friends were actually my friends, or just pretending to be.

"I pray you, ladies and gentlemen," the pastor said with a fault in his voice as he spoke into the microphone, gazing over our heads at the stained glass of Jesus that hung in his crucified being. "We are here today to hang our heads in the death of a boy, a boy that deserved to live-"

"Liar." I heard it from my right, that tiny mumble that just came out of Toby's mouth. His eyes were red, trying to keep from crying, and I rested my head on his shoulder sympathetically, feeling his frame move upward as he took a breath in. The pastor stirred, raising his eyebrows with disappointment as his gaze met Toby's. I turned and looked away as a tear escaped my eye, but I wouldn't let it show. I was too proud for that. I'd always been proud, forgetting about the others around me and not letting them see the weak side of myself.

Sean wasn't crying either. He was standing to my left, biting his lip. I couldn't imagine what it must've been like to be in his shoes, having held the boy in his arms, drenched in his fresh blood. I know that I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, and it didn't seem like Sean was doing that well either. But I had to question myself over and over again – hadn't he had to endure enough already? I knew that he was changed, but it seemed that his reputation still hovered over him like the little black rain cloud from my dated Winnie the Pooh storybooks.

I sniffled for a second before turning my head to the ground, praying silently. Dear God, I thought. If there is a God, after all, I hope that you'll help Sean through this rough time and –

"Amen," the pastor finished, cutting me off. Eagerly I finished my own silent prayer. Andhelphimtorealizethatitwasn'thisfault, Amen. There, that was fast. "Now, we turn to the casket. Please bow your heads."

We all did.

The casket was brought in by two members of the church, and I wondered for a moment what they were smiling about. There was nothing happy about that day. Then it hit me – they had no idea who had died. They didn't know how his death had come to be, the shooting of Jimmy and Sean, and the terrible events that had followed. I felt my eyes strain in anger as I glared at them, laughing before putting on mock faces of sadness as they walked into the room. But then again, I supposed that I shouldn't have been glaring at them – I had taken him for granted too.

They put the casket onto a risen platform, and it hurt me to see that on top, unlike so many other coffins that I had seen, were no flowers. Nothing. This alone was enough to make me want to cry. Raising my head against the pastor's words, I stepped forward and felt myself walking toward the casket, biting my lip to the point of its bleeding. I held a dandelion – a weed, I thought to myself in disappointment – behind my back before setting it quietly on the lid. The pastor and two helpers just stared at me like I had never been there before, and at this, I felt more tears escape my eyes as I turned back to sit by my two friends, torn between mixed memories of love and hate for the boy.

I turned to look at Toby, who had finally broken himself down into fits of tears, silent drops sliding down his pale cheeks. I felt horrible for him, and turned to look at Sean, who appeared to be staring into space by now. This was a terrible and fragile time for everyone.

"The casket is opening," the pastor said into the microphone, clearing his throat for a moment and beckoning us to come forward. I'd only been to two funerals in my life, and this was by far the least formal and most rushed. It was only a day after the shooting, and we were dressed in casual clothes, as we'd only just noticed the funeral time in the newspaper, in 'Obituaries.' Rick's was blank except for the time of the funeral, and I supposed it was because his parents were too embarrassed to say that he'd died in a shooting that he'd started. Stepping toward the coffin, I felt myself shudder as tears fell down my cheeks and I let out a cry of despair. I was surprised when I felt not Toby's, but Sean's hand upon my own, to comfort me as I leaned into him.

There in front of me was Rick Murray's body, and although it was cleansed from the blood that had dirtied it earlier, his eyes were rolled backward in a silent trance, or what appeared to be like one, and his hair was a filthy mess. The church staff had hardly taken any time to make him look decent, but they'd done a minimum job, I supposed. I felt a choke in my throat as I looked over at him. Sean held my hand tightly, pulling gently on my index finger, which made me want to cry even more.

"Toby doesn't deserve this. No one deserves this." – Rick, Time Stands Still (Part 1)