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He wasn't leaving this hospital room, except in a coffin.
I funneled all the rage inside, pushed it down deep, deeper, then locked it away. The thickness of his betrayal left no room for a beating heart—I was dead inside.
I took a calming breath, and then did the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life.
I forced my shoulders to relax, turned around, and forced the words through unwilling lips. "I forgive you."
CHAPTER 4
Summer
The yawning mouth of darkness was the only thing I could see. Stretching tall and wide enough to fit a black steel box, and the pile of blood-red roses placed carefully atop it. The official crest of my family, created centuries ago, cut into the sides in silver and gold.
A testimony that this was actually happening.
Was that all that was left of my father? A lumped and distorted body of clay, silent and unmoving, despite the crashing thunder overhead and buckets of rain pouring down on all sides.
A clammy hand clasped mine: Callie’s. The only family I had left on this earth.
Only two years younger, but more innocent by about a decade. Her tightened hold on mine, fingers trembling with her grief, only made it seem that much more—it was because she’d been his favorite.
The low and gruff voice of the minister halted and my mind reeled, knowing this was truly the end.
A sealed casket.
Hope drowning, along with the casket lowering.
Despite the rain, a couple hundred people stood with me, crowded into the back of our property. And yet, I never felt so alone.
The minister—a man they called the Expiarus—stepped to the side of the crowd, the edges of a tattoo peeking out from his black, starched cassock.
He was watching me. With pale grey eyes, so washed out they blended into the sky behind him.
I felt invisible in that stare—like he could see through my skin and into my melting, pounding heart.
They were all staring—I could feel their gawking gazes boring into my back, ripping me open to gape at my grief.
Then the whispers trickled in, “what’s taking so long?”, “why’re we still here?”, “her father would be so ashamed…”
I didn’t know why they were all here. I’d never met most of them before today.
Mr. Stokes, dad’s lawyer, stood on my other side, resolute and respectful.
Benson, the grandfatherly butler I’d been raised with, was also here. His skin was pale, his figure older and thinner than I remembered. The humidity and rain fogged his gold-rimmed glasses as he sported his signature somber, black bow tie.
And yet, no sign of Garrett, even though I’d texted him several times, asking for him to come. The sting of his rejection only amplified my emotions - the emptiness inside me, the feeling that the weight of the world was on my shoulders. The knowing that I would just fuck things up, like always.
No one moved, the silence between us stretching for an eternity.
Was I supposed to be doing something? The only other funeral I’d ever been to was my mother’s, and I was only ten then. My father had done everything, from flower arrangements, the large and elaborate funeral, and afterwards, a wake. He’d greeted and thanked mourners who wanted to talk about their grief and the shock of her untimely death.
He’d been my bedrock, holding me tight when I’d cracked and fallen apart, whispering words of comfort that I knew were only words, but had made me feel better all the same.
And, with my sister, Callie’s hand trembling in mine, I knew it was my turn to bear that burden.
Straightening my back, I took a step forward, and it seemed as if they released a collective breath.
It felt like an eternity as I stared down at the black symbol of death, the chill from the rain seeping under my skin and making my bones ache.
