Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter Eight: Funeral

'As we commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'

Rain drummed on the coffin lids as the priest intoned his grim, hollow words. I knew that they were meant to bring me comfort, but I could feel nothing but the cold. Ariella's hand held my own numb fingers. She clung on as though I was her only lifeline, and I knew that my grasp was just as tight. Tears trailed down her face, mixing with the rain with poetic beauty. My grief wouldn't show itself, and all I could do was shiver as the priest quietly closed his bible and bowed his head.

The caskets were lowered slowly into the twin graves and I felt panic well up in my throat. My mind was clamouring, unable to believe the truth that was in front of me. It couldn't be my parents in those slender wooden boxes, being buried in the cold, unforgiving earth. I couldn't be this girl, standing at the side of a grave without a tear to shed.

Ariella took a handful of dirt and threw it onto each casket. It rattled on the wooden lids and echoed through the cold, wet air. The bowl of soil was offered to me, and I copied my sister's movements before the small gathering of officials disbanded, leaving the gravediggers to do their work.

The social worker stood a discreet distance away, huddled under an umbrella. She was wearing a faded black suit and a deeply worried expression as she waited for us to say our goodbyes. Ariella drew in a ragged, choking breath and lifted her face to the rain, as though trying to find a moment of emotional calm. I squeezed her hand tight and waited for her to speak.

'What are we going to do?' she asked quietly as she wiped her face with a shaking hand.

For a minute I didn't know what to say. Something deep inside me wanted to lie down and give up, but I knew that wasn't an option. I stood and watched the wet earth slowly hide the coffins from view, and tried not to feel as though it were my own grave the solemn men were filling.

I sighed and opened an umbrella over Ariella's head. 'We have to keep going,' I replied in a voice that sounded alien to my ears. 'What else can we do?'

She looked at me and, for a moment, I saw a hot anger in her eyes. 'How can you stand there as though nothing has happened? How can you be so calm?'

I didn't answer, but I kept hold of her hand and led her gently towards the car that was waiting for us. Not a word was said on the journey back to our empty house, and it wasn't until we were settled in the warm living room that the social worker dared to speak. She put a card timidly on the table and gravely offered her condolences. 'You can call me at any time of the day or night, for whatever reason, even if it's only for someone to talk to.' Her kind eyes went from Ariella's face to mine as we both nodded glumly. 'Have you any friends to stay with, or who could stay with you? Often the week after the funeral is the worst.'

'We'll be okay,' Ariella answered, her voice stronger now. 'We have friends, even if we don't have any family anymore. Thank you.'

The woman showed herself out, saying that she would be back in the next few days to check on us. Silence filled the house and I shivered again in my wet clothes. The clock ticked steadily, and I found myself focussing on the noise until I couldn't think of anything but the repetitive rhythm. It was a reassuring sound in a world that had become like quicksand. All my thoughts kept returning to one morose idea after the other, and I heard my breath hitch in my throat.

Ariella looked up at me from where she sat and hurried to my side. 'Ingrid, are you all right?' Her hand flew to my forehead and her eyes instantly went to the cut on my forehead. 'Are you having headaches? Do you feel feverish?'

'No, no, I'm fine. I just feel like I need to – to be outside. To think.'

Ariella tightened her hand on mine and murmured, 'I'm sorry for shouting at you. I was upset. I know you're different from me. I – just – Ingrid please don't pull away from me.'

The doorbell rang and both of us looked up, briefly confused by the sound. Ariella stroked my cheek for a second before she went to answer it. I followed, more out of curiosity than anything else, and I smiled at what I saw. A young man stood on the doorstep. He could only be a year older than Ariella at most, but his face was full of concern, which made him seem older. His name was Mark. He was in the same classes as Ariella, and often partnered with her on hteir larger art projects. I would bet everything I had that he fancied Ariella. A blind man could see that she was sweet on him.

'I know this is a bad time, but I thought you wouldn't want to cook afterwards. So I brought you this. Well, my Mom made it, but...' he trailed off, smiling nervously as Ariella took the bowl of stew out of his hands, a warm smile on her pale face.

'Thanks. Why don't you come in? You must be soaking!'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, it's fine, isn't Ingrid?'

I nodded and smiled weakly at Mark, who was wiping his feet on the doormat. He and Ariella were chatting about nothing of any importance, complaining about their art projects from class, and I leapt on the opportunity to escape. 'Is it okay if I just go for a walk in the park? Just to clear my head? I'll be back by six.'

Ariella bit her lip, obviously torn between her need to keep an eye on me, and her need to make sure I was happy. Mark saw the internal debate on her face and pulled out his cell phone. 'Why don't you take this?' he asked, offering it to me. 'That way you can call home if you need to.'

I looked at Ariella for her agreement and she finally nodded. 'Okay Ingrid, but don't stay out too long, and please try and stay at least a bit dry.'

I gave her a quick hug before I picked up an umbrella and stepped outside into the rain. Ariella needed people around her at a time like this, that was obvious. I needed time alone, and I knew it was going to be hard to come by. The oppressive heat of panic that had surrounded me in the house faded and I breathed a sigh of relief. The rain was cool against my face and I left the umbrella swinging at my side as I walked down the wet sidewalk. I was still had on the same clothes I had worn to the funeral, and the long black skirt already had an inch of mud around the hem. Goosebumps ran up my bare forearms and I hugged them around myself. The black top wasn't enough to keep out the cold, but I welcomed the sensation. It was a reminder that I was alive, unlike my parents.

I glanced at my watch and contemplated returning to school. Lessons would be over, but the warm sanctuary of the Safety Patrol office was tempting. Unfortunately I knew that Vallejo wouldn't have left for home yet, and there was a good chance that the others would be hanging around. Despite myself I gave a small, hollow laugh. It was sad that while other kids ran home to enjoy the weekend we hung around, almost unwilling to leave.

I turned instead towards the park. At least that would be abandoned in the rain. Swings and merry-go-rounds lost their appeal when they were slick with the wet. As soon as I was beyond the park gates I moved off of the path and onto the softer, springier grass. The swings were deserted, and I put my umbrella to one side before sitting on one. The chains creaked, but held as I swung slowly back and forth. The other two swings swung as well, entertaining the phantoms on the wind. The squeaking of metal was a desolate sound, and only compounded my dire mood.

Ariella was right to shout at me. A normal child would have wept and howled to see their parents buried, but I had stood like a statue, rejecting the truth with every fibre of my being. I refused to believe that I would never make my father laugh again, or see the proud look in my mother's eyes. I would never be told how much they loved me, or how much they cared.

I thought back to the day of the accident and realised that I hadn't once during that day told them that I loved them. If I had known it would be my last chance I would have made sure they knew it, but now it was too late. I'd never hear their voices, or feel their hugs. All that remained of my parents was buried six feet into the cold earth and nothing in the world could ever bring them back.

The sob was loud in the quiet park and I bit my lip as the hot tears finally fell down my face, dripping from my chin. My mind continued to push the truth home as I forced myself to understand what had happened. The rain strengthened and the wind howled across the park, making the trees rustle and the swings sway more violently. I trembled and stilled my own seat before putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

Tears pooled in my palms as my breath steamed in the air in front of me. My teeth chattered with the cold and my eyes stung, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. I stood up abruptly and tightened my hands into fists at my sides. I shut my eyes and took three deep, calming breaths. I had to be strong. Crying wouldn't solve anything, and it wouldn't bring them back. Yes, I missed them, and I would give anything to have them back, but that wasn't possible. There was no price on life, and there weren't any second chances. I'd lost them, and I couldn't get them back.

Another whimper lodged in my throat and I let out a tiny whine of frustration. Mind over matter wasn't working. It was as though my body ached to weep, and now it had started there wasn't anything that could bring it to a halt. I slumped back onto the swing and rested my forehead against the cold chain. I shut my eyes and stopped fighting the sadness inside me. I was so lost in the depths of sorrow that I didn't hear footsteps approaching.

My eyes jerked open in surprise when I heard the soft, almost leathery sound of an umbrella opening, and shielding me from the rain. I looked around and saw Fillmore, leaning silently against one of the metal props of the swing set. He had the umbrella at arm's length so that it covered me, but left him unsheltered. The rain was soaking through his black t-shirt and his baggy jeans were muddy.

I must have looked a pitiful sight because he moved closer and took a tissue out of his pocket. He handed it to me and I tried to mop up the ceaseless tears. My hands were shaking furiously and my teeth chattered like castanets. He grabbed my hand and took the tissue before wiping it gently across my cheek.

'Ingrid, you're freezing. You're going to get ill,' he said softly as he watched another tear replace the ones he'd just wiped away. 'Do you want me to walk you home?'

I shook my head, and bit my lip painfully. Part of me wanted to make him leave me alone, but another part desperately wanted him to stay. A shiver raced through me as another wave of despair enveloped my mind. I felt my knees buckle, but in a split second Fillmore's arms were around me, holding me against him.

I could feel his heart thudding beneath my palm ad I buried my face in his shoulder and cried all the harder. 'I want my mom,' I whispered mournfully. I sounded more like a little girl than a young woman, but it was a tragic plea and I felt Fillmore's arms tighten around me further as though he was worried he'd lose me if he didn't hang on.

'I'm so sorry, Ingrid,' he whispered, stroking my tangled hair with one hand as he waited for my sobs to fade.

The umbrella lay abandoned on the floor and the rain continued to pour down, drenching us both. I don't know how long it took for me to run out of tears, but it seemed as though painful hours had passed. I pulled back slightly and took a few deep breaths, wincing at the pounding in my head. My eyes burned, and there was a deep, hollow ache in my stomach.

'I'm sorry,' I mumbled, feeling a flash of embarrassment at having cried so openly all over him. Fillmore's respect was something I treasured, and I despised the fact that I hadn't been able to maintain emotional control, or at least get a shaky hold on it.

Fillmore raised an eyebrow. 'Ingrid, there's nothing to be sorry for.' He caught sight of me shivering and loosened his hold before digging into his bag and pulling out a denim jacket. He draped it over my shoulders and reached for the umbrella before sheltering the pair of us from the rain.

'Don't you want this?' I asked, fingering the collar of the jacket.

'No, I'll be all right. You're the one who's been sitting still in the rain.'

'I needed some space,' I said, a touch defensively. 'The house was just so – smothering.'

'Are you going to be okay to go home?'

I thought about the oppressive weight of sorrow that reigned over the house, but nodded. 'I need to be with Ariella. I can't leave her for long.'

Fillmore nodded, and steered the conversation onto safer territory as he took my hand and began to lead me home.

We talked about school, and the atmosphere of despair as the "un-important" test day approached. Danny was apparently going crazy because he couldn't do long division without a calculator, and Tehama spent the time muttering the table of elements to herself.

'Vallejo's too busy to care, and Anza's indifferent, as usual.'

'What about you, Fillmore?'

'I'll do all right, besides they did say they weren't going on our permanent record. It's a test for the school, rather than us.'

'I suppose so. I just think that the everyone's edgy enough without another exam. There's got to be an easier way.'

Fillmore made a non-committal noise and moved a bit closer to me as we crossed the street and approached my house. The windows were all lit, and it was hard to imagine that there wasn't a complete, happy family inside. I grimaced and went to take off the jacket, but Fillmore just shook his head. 'Keep it, you're still cold. I'll have it back on Monday.'

'But you've got to walk home!'

'I'll be okay,' he smiled slightly, waiting for the inevitable argument.

'Fine, but you have to keep the umbrella.''

'Deal.'

We stopped on the porch and Fillmore's face became serious again. 'Ingrid, if there's anything I can do... Well, you've got my number. Call me if you need someone to talk to, okay?'

'You might regret that, you know.'

'I mean it. Even if it's the middle of the night.'

'Thank you. I – um...' I took a deep breath and stepped forward and stood on tiptoe before kissing him very quickly on the cheek. 'I'll see you Monday, Fillmore.'

'Yeah,' he said quietly, with a slightly shocked look on his face.

I smiled and slipped inside the house. A backward glance gave me a glimpse of him turning to walk down the steps and out into the rain before I shut the door on the outside world. The little smile soon faded as the gravity of the day fell back into place. The kiss had been the only way I could think of to really show my gratitude, and yet I knew it hadn't been selfless. The slightest touch from Fillmore in any situation sent electric tingles shooting all over me. It was like a drug, addictive.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and groaned. I looked like a wreck. The saving grace was that I'd worn waterproof make-up, but I still looked pale and tear-stained.

'Mark?' I called out, putting his cell phone on the table by the door.

'He's gone home,' Ariella answered from the kitchen. 'Dinner'll be ready in a few.'

'All right, I'm just going to go in the shower!'

I ran upstairs, stripping out of the soaking clothes as I did so. I hung Fillmore's jacket on the bathroom door handle and flicked the shower on before stepping under the spray. I lingered in the bathroom until the air was laden with vapour, before I dried myself off and slipped into my pyjamas. I hesitated for a moment before picking up Fillmore's jacket and shrugging it on. It was only for warmth, I decided.

Ariella was sitting on the sofa, curled up under an eiderdown as she ate the thick stew from a bowl. She smiled at me and pulled back to covers so that I could curl up next to her. I picked at the stew and the bread, my appetite too feeble to do the meal justice. We watched pointless romantic comedies, and didn't speak a word about the funeral, or the desperate aching loneliness that seemed to creep through the house.

I took off Fillmore's jacket and folded it into a rough pillow before lying down on the couch, my feet on Ariella's knees. Gradually I felt my eyelids grow heavy and drifted into sleep, exhausted by the day's events.

I woke with a start, a blood curdling scream still lingering in my ears. My heart thundered in my chest and I heard Ariella's footsteps hurrying in from the kitchen. 'Ingrid, what's wrong?'

'Blood, blood everywhere!'

'Ingrid, it's all right. It was just a dream. It's ok,' she wrapped her arms around me and swayed gently as I my panicked gasps subsided.

'They were burying me.'

'Who were?' Ariella asked gently, stroking my hair.

'Mum and Dad, they were burying me and they didn't care, and they were bleeding all over the place.'

I shut my eyes but images flashed across the darkness. Pictures of blood and graves and my parents, dead in the car. I opened them again hurriedly and bundled the eiderdown around myself. Ariella handed me the denim jacket and I grasped at it, burying my face in the rough material.

She turned and flicked the T.V. onto one of the many kids channels. I watched as Disney's Recess kids got up to their usual mischief, hardly daring to blink. I accepted the warm milk that Ariella offered me, and made room for her on the sofa. She drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, but my eyes remained glued to the screen. The smell of blood lingered in my nostrils and my memory tormented me.All I could do was tremble and cling to Fillmore's jacket like a girl would hug her teddy bear.

I was lost in grief and horror, and it was hard to imagine that I could ever find my way back to the confident person I used to be.

End of Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you, as always to my reviewers. I'm having such a good time writing this! Unfortunately real life's a little busy at the moment, so posting twice a week is a little optimistic. For now Ill just say Sunday is update tay, and promise to update aevery weekend.

Abellen xxx