Her Father's Ashes

Scarlett

I hadn’t seen my father in ten years. And now, here I was, staring at his corpse like it was just another Tuesday.

He looked the same as he did that night ago, except now there was a grayish tint to his skin.

Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel when I got a call to come claim his body two months ago and I still don’t know how to feel right now at the crematorium.

But ice lodged in my chest and it hurt to swallow anytime I tried.

Maybe I was sad. And furious. Mostly furious at his audacity to leave me specific instructions of how he wanted his body to be taken care of.

Like I fucking owed him anything after a decade of surviving by myself.

“Miss Reign?” The attendant’s voice broke into my thoughts, soft as though she was speaking to a wounded animal. “Would you like a few minutes alone with him, before we proceed?”

I shook my head sharply, biting down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure whether a sob or a scream would come out

So I just stood there, arms held tightly at my side while the woman gave me a sympathetic look that made my skin crawl.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she murmured and slid his body into the incinerator.

I couldn’t watch so I just turned away, staring at the ugly linoleum floor until it was over.

A few minutes later, she returned carrying the large urn.

My father, reduced to ashes. I would say fucking poetic justice if it didn’t hurt so much to speak right now.

After securing the urn to the back of my bike, I slid my helmet and climbed on.

The engine roared to life beneath me, its angry rumbles matching the storm raging in my veins.

I kicked off and tore out of the parking lot, the wind whipping at my face as the familiar route home blurred past.

My fiancé, Chris was waiting for me and the thought of seeing him soon eased some of the ache in my heart.

I told him yesterday I’d directly head to Shadow Ridge to scatter the ashes after the cremation, but I don’t think I could do it without him.

Since he’d been so understanding these past few months, giving me time to grieve, I knew he’d come with me.

My life might have been shit, but at least, I hit the romance jackpot.

I killed the engine in front of our apartment building, the sudden silence ringing in my ears.

My legs felt heavy as I climbed up the stairs with the urn under my arm.

At the door, I fumbled with my keys, but a frown twisted my brows when the door swung open at the slightest touch.

Shit, did we have an intruder?

My heart slammed against my ribs. With no weapon in sight, I gripped the heavy urn with both hands.

If someone had broken in, I was ready to swing it like a bat.

I moved down the hallway on quiet feet, my eyes widening when I realized the bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Shit! The burglar was probably in there right now.

As I neared it, my pulse roared loudly in my ears, drowning out other noises.

But it wasn’t loud enough to block out the moans and rhythmic creaking of the bed I had picked out with Chris just last year.

“Fuck! Your pussy feels so good.”

What?

Convinced I heard wrong, I pushed the door open and the sight before me brought a rush of nausea to my lungs.

Chris was completely naked, thrusting in and out of… “Diane…Fuck! I’m close.”

Diane.

My best friend of eleven years.

I couldn’t breath, or think as my entire world fractured in that single moment. The urn slipped from my fingers.

“What the fuck…?”

My voice came out broken, barely louder than a whisper, but it was loud enough.

Chris’s head snapped towards me and his eyes widened in shock. “Shit, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back until…fuck!”

Although he sounded panicked, there was no real guilt on his face as he stumbled off the bed, yanking on his boxers.

Frozen to the spot, my eyes bounced between my fiancé and my bestfriend. Which one of them do I fucking face?

My bestfriend who was supposed to be my ride or die?

Or my fiancé who I was walking down the altar with?

White-hot tears burned my eyes and I turned to leave before they started falling.

But Chris’s hand shot out then and grabbed my wrist. “Where are you going?”

Where was I--?

Fury exploded through my heartbreak, cutting my thoughts clean and I spun around. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

He winced but dropped his hands from mine. “I just think you’re too upset to leave right now.”

“Upset?” I yelled, incredulous shock sweeping through me. “You fucked my bestfriend, Chris. Upset doesn’t begin to cut it.”

“Oh please,” Diane spoke up right then as she slid her arms through his discarded shirt, making herself right at home. “You know this was long coming. Chris was—“

“Shut up!” I screamed, stabbing a finger towards her. “Just fucking shut it. You were supposed to be my friend, D. My friend!”

“And I was!” She yelled back, standing next to Christ. They looked so fucking cozy my heart ripped open again. “You should be grateful it's me and not someone else giving Christ the comfort he needs when you abandoned him.?”

Grateful? Abandon?? My father fucking died, what the fuck?

Her words made me see red. Screaming like a banshee, I lunged for her, but Christ caught me around the waist.

I pounded my fists into his broad chest, screaming for him to let me go.

“Only if you promise not to attack her.” He hissed and finally, I sagged against him, my vision blurred with tears.

Slowly Chris let go of me and I took multiple steps back, picking up the urn.

“Scarlett, come on.” He said, running a hand through his messy hair. “Diane is right. You abandoned me for three whole months. As a man, I have needs and you can’t blame me for accepting Diane’s comfort.”

I stood there speechless, disbelief and disgust twisting in my gut until they reignited my rage.

“Those three months weren’t a vacation, you selfish prick!” I spat, whirling around. “They were the darkest moments of my life. I just cremated my father today. Today. God, you’re a selfish bastard Chris. I fucking hate you.”

As tears began pouring down my face, he spread his arms open as if trying to hug me. The fucking nerve.

“I. Said. Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” Screeching, I swung the heavy urn with everything I had and cracked it against the side of his head.

The impact made a sickening thud and he stumbled backward with a shocked grunt as he clutched his bleeding head.

Diane screamed and I shot her a glare that could melt ice.

"By the time I return," I said to him, my voice steady despite my breaking heart. "Make sure your shit is out of my apartment or I swear, I'm breaking your skull next time."

With that, I turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me.

The sound echoed like a final nail in the coffin of the life I thought I had.

As I got to my motorcycle, I stared at the urn, wanting more than anything to throw the damn thing away.

God it fucking hurts.

My eyes burned and I had to bite my lip to hold back the tears.

Despite every ounce of resentment I still carried toward my father, I was going to honor his final request.

And no, this wasn’t some grand reconciliation scheme. I just needed closure. And once his ashes were scattered, I’d finally be free of him.

Securing the urn to the back of my bike once again, I started the engine and rode out.

Hours later, the old, dirtied welcome sign for Shadow Ridge came into view.

But the moment I crossed into town, my motorcycle started sputtering as the engine coughed violently.

Cursing under my breath, I gripped the handlebars tighter, trying not to crash.

Finally, the bike jerked and slowed to a pathetic stop right in the middle of the dimly lit main street.

“Perfect,” I muttered bitterly as I killed the engine and sat in the unfamiliar town around me. “Just fucking perfect.”