Chapter - simply corpses

They ask me what happened,

but It's too hard to speak,

You always called me your strong little girl, but daddy I've never felt more weak.

__________________________

30 march 2017

2:42 pm

My maroon sneakers sneered into the dirt, tapping ever so softly, as if they themselves were afraid of sinking into the graveyard's dusty soil.

The same soil where thousands laid lifeless,

Each one trapped under a shield of mud which hid their lies and secrets,

unwillingly getting suffocated by those who nonchalantly drop by to weep every now and then.

I wonder if that helped to lessen their remorse.

Remorse of things they couldn't do.

Remorse of things they never said.

I ponder if they felt as if a burden was lifted off their shoulders each time they sat beside a loved ones grave.

Ranting about how badly they missed the corpse that laid six feet under,

probably decayed

now barely there

It was somewhat funny to me, how people would visit a bag of bones to talk about how awful their day was,

or how something in their pathetic lives went wrong, instead of talking to those still breathing.

I thought of it as delusional,

Yet little did I know; that when you crave someone so desperately, it makes no difference whether they're breathing or they're six feet under.

I wonder if they feel some sort of a spark,

whether the soil shifts and their bones tremble beneath.

Maybe they even push upon the soil crushing them or plead to let the one outside know that they can hear, but the weight of the mud restricts them.

Some sit for hours on end, speaking about the most random of things, as if talking to a real person and not just a bag of bones.

Even the thought of forgetting about my parents or Liam sent shivers up my spine, making my stomach twist in anger.

Anger at myself, for even letting such a thought cross my mind

and anger at universe for putting me in a position where I stood across freshly dug graves of those I once held so close,

wondering whether they'd be remembered or not.

The thought made me want to bury myself along with the three other white clothed corpses, in hope of everlasting unity.

Corpses.

That's all they were now.

That's all they were to the people of this town.

But what were they to me?

Simply corpses?

Several people had gathered, most of which I had never seen before, all dressed in white but their hearts were black.

Dark and shallow

Each one is selfish for their own well-being.

Their tears screamed suffering but their eyes only showed frustration.

Their plain clothes claimed they were here to share our sorrow, but their restlessness gave away their intentions, it was clear that they were only here as if to fulfil some sort of a formality.

My tiresome eyes dilated, afraid of all the possibilities that could occur if I were to blink for even a moment.

The sun began to seek refuge behind ginormous trees, gradually shifting away from my sight as the clouds began to accommodate the evening sky.

My knees grew weaker by every passing moment, while my orbs never once left the corpses that I once called family.

Sorrow had digested me whole, so thoroughly that I was almost unaware of who stood beside me or across.

And I couldn't get myself to care as those around me held up their hands and began to pray, in hope to bring peace upon those who've departed.

I felt an unusual calm wash over me as the azan reached my ears.

The sound held pain, pain of losing someone so dear,

It was as if the voice had me lost in some sort of a trace.

I felt welcomed

Embraced

As if it was a reassurance from the universe; trying to make me understand that many have gone through what I was, that I wasn't alone.

At the same time, the voice held hope.

Hope that it won't always hurt this bad.

Hope that the pain will fade with time,

That I'll once again learn to be happy,

I'll once again confide in a family,

Another family.

The light never seemed to bother me, never seemed to irritate me, until now.

The world around me felt too cruel

too alive.

What right did they have to go on with their lives while my loved ones just lost theirs?

What right did they have to give out their condolences, when they were just going to forget?

Could I forget?

Could I ever?

It felt all too unfair.

All too painful.

Not just pain..

Another feeling, kept tugging at my heart;

one I was not quite fond of, a feeling similar to a blade slicing through my heart,

tearing and shredding it into pieces; but I couldn't feel anything.

Nothing at all.

As if I was given some kinda anaesthesia, disapproving and blocking out any pain.

I, for a fact knew that the reason behind my numbness was nothing but my disbelief.

I couldn't-

-didn't want to come to terms with the fact that my parents were dead,

that my brother was gone,

that things would never be the same.

All that seemed too malicious to be true.

I refused to understand, repeatedly telling myself that it was my fault.

That I deserved to die there with them,

pushing away anyone who tried to make me feel better.

I wasn't worthy of their pity.

I didn't deserve any such emotion.

Nothing else was pacing my mind expect for Noah right now, nothing else mattered anymore.

Noah

Where was he?

It's been two days

Two days since I came home to this nightmare

Two days since mum, dad and Liam have died

Two days since Noah had disappeared

Two whole days, and yet there was no news regarding him, nothing I could use to figure out his whereabouts

I wonder if he got into another accident on that same day and is lying in a hospital somewhere

Or maybe, he talked to mum and dad and went abroad or on a road trip with his friends for a while

Or, or maybe he is at a friends right now and doesn't know all that has happened

Maybe, he witnessed what happened and ran away frightened for his life and is probably hiding somewhere

Thousands of scenarios had ran through my head,

Thousands

But not one of them included what I was told

Not a single one hinted what they say had happened

My heart paced as men I could barely recognise stepped forward and began to place the corpses into their respective dugouts.

Walking forward, I asked the imam (the man who gives azan at funerals) to hand me the shovel.

He seemed confused as women weren't quite allowed to help bury bodies, nor accompany men while they bury them.

He tried to explain how I shouldn't, but I didn't hear.

I couldn't hear.

I picked up the extra shovel from the ground below and walked across to their graves.

My mind couldn't come into terms with what I was doing but I felt as if my heart knew exactly what it was doing.

I plunged the shovel into the excess soil and smeared it onto mum.

My hands shook as goosebumps rose onto my body; terrified of what I was doing.

Mum.

Each time soil levelled onto the grave; my heart sunk a little more.

It felt as if I was murdering her all over again.

As if I was responsible for her murder.

And I was.

I didn't want them to sympathise with me.

I wanted them to know what kind of a disgusting murder I was.

I wanted them to despise me.

I craved for the pity in their eyes to turn into hatred.

Tears rushed down my eyes and onto my flushed cheeks as the soil of her freshly crafted grave levelled with the soil under my feet.

A cry that sounded so much like mine tore through the atmosphere like a knife.

People around me began to whisper while some rushed to my side, hoping to pull me back as I began to scream louder.

My knees finally gave out, as I trembled onto the cold soil.

All three graves now levelled, as if they aren't even there.

As if they were never dug out.

As if my loved ones were not just buried there.

If only.

My trembling hands pushed upon the freezing soil as tears spilled out uncontrollably.

They're probably cold,

They're going to be cold,

They're going to freeze,

I pushed the pile of men and women around me, who seemed to want to console me.

Console.

Each one of them thought they could make me feel better.

Ha

My eyes roamed the crowd, desperately seeking a familiar face, but found none to my avail.

They all seemed confused, some crying while others frowning

Except.

Except him

His white half sleeved tee-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, allowing every passerby to stare at his built up chest and his delicious six pack.

While the v-neckline gave a good peak at his muscles as lines of sweat rolled down his neck and into his shirt.

His black jeans complimented his look, along with his dusty black shoes, a sick silver Rolex and a pair of black sunglasses.

He wasn't too close; but wasn't far either; like he wanted to be noticed but not recognised.

His brown eyes reflected pools of honey in the sunlight, placed symmetrically under his thick yet shaped arched eyebrows

His ski-slope nose was a little bruised; the purple on the base gave away the fact that he most probably got into a fight recently.

His cheekbones hollow yet not too dense, making his face seem rough, while his skin was a light summery tan, meaning he clearly spends a fair amount of time in the sun.

His hair was short, cut into a side part and the colour of espresso, making him look undeniably dangerous.

His arms built and and his hands rough; his veins surfacing every now and then when he cracked his fingers.

I had never seen him before, almost like everybody else here

But what caught my eye wasn't his beautiful carved face or his built body

It was how his face held no emotion whatsoever.

No sadness

No grief

But instead, a sudden serenity

A sickening calm

As if he wasn't here to mourn, but to-

to watch

I shake my head and look away, only to look back at him but this time; his poker face falls weak as he catches my eye.

A sick smile surfaced onto his lips as we made eye contact

I looked back down at my state and couldn't help but wonder if my terrible state was amusing to him, as if he was enjoying this.

I blinked multiple times, scrunching up my face as I stared at him, hoping to see him more clearly.

Certain that I had probably been mistaken, and I was.

His smile disappeared as fast as it had surfaced, and his emotionless demeanour resurfaced, making me wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me, maybe it was just an illusion.

I gazed down at my hands, now covered in dirt.

Dirt and blood

Blood of those who believed me so much

Blood of those who loved me effortlessly

Blood of those I once called my family

I glanced back up only to notice he wasn't there anymore

My orbs searched the place thoroughly, but couldn't locate him

It was as if he had disappeared into thin air

It made no sense because he was there only moments ago, he was, I could've sworn it

But then again; I didn't bother mentioning any such thing because right now I didn't believe myself too much either, my allusions were getting the best of me.

My head was spinning uncontrollably while my hands stroked the ground beneath.