Chapter 4 : Past

It's the day of the funeral, and I still haven't shed a tear.

Kaitlyn's palm is sweaty, and I can't help but feel like it's a handcuff. She won't let me go. She keeps tiptoing around me as if she's waiting for me to explode, but doesn't want to be a trigger.

But she doesn't have to worry about that happening. Because I feel nothing. My Mom isn't here today. She's on her business trip somewhere. I keep calling her, but she isn't responding.

They keep telling me that I need to eat. That I need to sleep, but I can't. Not when she hasn't called to say she's okay.

It's so selfish of her. And not only her, but Dad, who locks himself away and walks around the house as if I don't exist.

My entire life surrounds them. My entire being is them, and I feel so hollow now that neither of them will speak to me. The two people who mean the world to me went away, leaving me all alone.

"Here," Kaitlyn offers, stretching me a bottle of water, "It's hot."

I take it, but I make no effort to open it. I don't want water. But knowing her, she'll just keep nagging until I take it.

"Are you going to drink it?" Kaitlyn asks, with a small smile.

I ignore her question, "Do you have any idea where my Mom might be?"

Her eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, her hold loosens on my hand. Then she starts looking around almost frantically.

"Serena—" she begins, but the sound of a mic cuts her off.

My eyes search to find where the sound is coming from, and I spot my Dad. His beige suit is crisp, complemented by a green tie, which makes his hazel eyes pop. And his wavy black hair is slicked back, resting on his shoulders. He looks so put together, but I notice the tiny slouch in his posture.

A signal that the weight he's carrying is too heavy to bear. I can help him...only if he would speak to me.

My father takes a deep breath, "Thank you all for being here, providing comfort and support. I appreciate it more than you know. Today we celebrate the life of Sofia Moretti." his voice is so level and calm, as if he's doing one of those press conferences.

"Celebrate the life?" I whisper under my breath, and I guess Kaitlyn hears it because she squeezes my hand tighter.

"Sofia was more than my wife—she was the heartbeat of this family. To the world, she was a brilliant designer, a woman of elegance and vision. But to me...she was the love of my life. The light that shines through my darkest days, the peace that calmed every storm, my safe place. And above all, she was the mother of our daughter, Serena."

I start to feel fury dance along my skin as my head starts to spin. What is he talking about? Why is he referring to her in past tense? My mom isn't dead...why is he saying this sad speech?

His voice starts to crack, "And I keep reliving that morning with us huddled in Serena's room, laughing. And I held her in my arms...not knowing it was the last time I'll get to stare into her eyes and feel her skin and I—"

Suddenly, my Dad turns over the mic before leaving the stage hurriedly. Before I realise what I'm doing...I tug my hand from Kaitlyn's hold, running to the platform where my father was previously standing.

"I don't know what this is...But I wanted to apologise on my father's behalf for misleading you all," I announce, to the crowd that fills the cemetery, with a light laugh, though my heart has holes filled with water.

"My mother, Sofia, is not dead. I mean...how could she be? She's just busy and hasn't bothered to reach out. Mom, if you are seeing this...please call me back, I kno—"

Before I can finish, someone holds my forearm. I turn to see my Dad, his eyes lined with tears and filled with sorrow. His lips are set in a straight line, and his eyebrows are creased together so tightly in a manner I never thought possible.

"Sweetheart, please come with me," he says, in his softest voice. The same one he would use when I want something, but Mom says no. And he would try to deliver the softest no, so I wouldn't cry.

But I didn't feel like listening. The fire that was once crawling has now consumed me.

"No!" I shout, "Not when you're telling people she's dead!"

His hold is now firmer than before. "Serena, you are making a scene. Let's go."

I brush off his hold, running off the platform and toward the garden of flower arrangements that surround the casket. Without thinking, I throw it open. Revealing it to the crowd.

"See?" I say, gesturing to it, "It's empty! Because this is all fake!"

I turn around to verify, staring into the casket, which actually holds a body, wrapped in cloth. Before I can stop myself...my fingers tease the white cloth. I had to see...I have to see. It's not her. It can't be her.

A scream barrels out of me unexpectedly, so violent my ribcage feels splintered. My legs nearly buckle, but the only thing holding me up is the weight of my own horror. My heart crashes into the pit of my stomach as my eyes lock on the individual in the casket.

My mother.

Or what's left of her.

Her golden-brown hair is pinned neatly in place, the same way she used to fuss over it before a show, but her face—her face is gone. It's as if the world erased her, wiped away every soft smile, every laugh line, every trace of the woman who raised me.

"Mom..." My voice fractures on the word. My knees hit the ground before I realise I've fallen. My palms press into the carpet, clawing for stability, wishing for this to be a dream.

The cemetery blurs. My father's hand hovers near my shoulder, trembling as much as mine, but I shake him off. If he touches me, I'll break. If anyone touches me, I'll shatter into dust and blow away.

So I stay cemented in place, heaving and choking on my tears, until everything around me falls hushed. And the shock on everyone's face falls away into darkness. The darkness that welcomes me. The darkness that is now my home.

~

There is a bitter chill in my chest. A chill rushing through my bones. A chill I can't escape.

I wake up to find Kaitlyn beside me, her head buried in my side.

"Hey," I whisper, to let her know I'm awake.

"Hey," she responds, raising her head to look at me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my cheeks already wet.

"Would you have listened to me?"

I swallow hard, "You didn't try."

She closes her eyes before shaking her head, "Serena...you've been blacking out since the news arrived."

"Blacking out?"

Kaitlyn brushes my hair from my face, "You faint whenever you hear about her death, and you wake up forgetting that she's dead."

At the mention of the word 'dead' associated with my mom, my breath hitches.

"I think you should see someone," Kaitlyn whispers.

"What? No!" I respond, brushing her off, "Just because I'm grieving doesn't mean I should see a stupid therapist."

"I'm worried about you," she whispers, "of course it's okay to grieve, but Serena...you just saw your mom in a casket in the worst state imaginable."

I squeeze my eyes shut as memories from earlier today flood my mind. I try to shake them away. But still, it feels like they are consuming me. Suddenly, I'm up...walking to the other side of the room with my head in my hands.

She tries to hold me, but I flash her off.

"Serena, I'm sorry if I triggered you—I...I didn't know."

Holding back tears, I turn to face her, "I don't need your pity."

She shakes her head gently, "You need me to be here for you, so stop pushing me a—"

"I don't need you, Kaitlyn!" I shout, glaring at her, "Not if you're going to pretend as if I'm sick for grieving. Are you not exhausted, pretending to be so caring...walking on eggshells?"

"Pretending?" she scoffs, "how can I pretend when my best friend lost her mother!"

I raise my hand to stop her, "and how many times are you going to remind me! How many times do you need to say the same words over and over again! Is it so hard to get that I don't want to hear them?"

"Serena—"

"Leave!" I shout, throwing open my door, "before I throw you out."

She grabs her bag from my bed, rolling her eyes, "You don't have to tell me twice," she mutters, walking out of the room, leaving me to slam the door behind her.

The moment she's gone, I fall with my back against the door, heaving. I crumble, holding my knees to my chest as tears spill. Because what else is there to do when my whole world has fallen apart?