10 4.1: Funerals and Dead Things (2/2)

”Look, forget about this, okay?” He tells me, lowering his head, arching his brows, and locking my eyes. ”Let's just focus on your funeral-”

I blink, breaking our contact, and sighing. ”I will know those other 'reasons' one day, you know that right?”

Tobias straightens up, stares at me for a while before smiling. Then he says, ”Let's head downstairs, yeah?”

I shake my head at him, and his ridiculous smile before turning away, and leaving the room. I start descending the stairs, not waiting for Tobias to get over himself, and follow my ass.

I stop at the last step from where I can see Mom in a tight, knee-length, full-sleeved black dress, and an elegant white hat, stand while drinking a glass of water. Dad, in a white button-up shirt and black pants, enters the scene with a crimson tie in his hand.

Mom, upon seeing him, leaves the water glass and fixes her husband's tie. I watch them longingly, knowing that this harmony between them was all I wanted in my short life.

Dad then gives Mom a small smile before pecking her forehead. The pain this action causes, makes me look away. Because couldn't they've given me that when I was alive? Couldn't they've been decent?

”I hated my parents too-” Tobias whispers from behind me, and I respond with a sniff. Because he's wrong.

I loved my parents, and that's why I'm hurting that they didn't love me enough to stay strong together.

Aiden then steps in with the car keys jingling in his hand, and his jacket on his forearm. He says something to them to which Dad responds with a nod and Mom with a headshake. Mom then pulls out her handkerchief from her white, leather handbag, and dabs her eyes.

This was probably about Jacob.

I glance at Tobias who's now standing by my side, looking intrigued. I look back at them to find Aiden standing by the door, and holding it open for his parents. Always the sickeningly good boy.

When they all leave, I stand heartbroken at how easily they left. How they hadn't sobbed for a little longer. I had wanted my death to be phenomenal. Something that gives them sleepless nights, and empty eyes. I had wanted them to know my worth.

I had wanted my death to be more poetic. I wanted no ordinary funerals at plain churches. I wanted the fire that lit my soul to engulf my corpse. I wanted my flesh to burn in front of them. I wanted them to feel the pain they've put me through.

I wanted chants of my name. A rose so dead, so beautiful. I did not want to be easily swallowed. I wanted the thought of me to be that gigantic pill that stands in their throats every time they remember me.

I wanted to be so much more than a passing funeral, and a staining tear.

And seeing this? Seeing my mom, and dad leave so easily to a thirty-minute funeral? It's underappreciative to my efforts. To my death.

”You look like you're gonna shoot that door with laser eyes-”

I snap my head to Tobias and stare at him, still spaced-out. Tobias' light hazel eyes dilate under my gaze before he clears his throat.

”I mean if you insist on using your laser eyes, maybe you can look at the paper your ma dropped from her bag-” He says slowly, and I blink at him.

”What paper?” I ask, slightly disturbed.

Tobias smiles, shaking his mop of red hair. ”C' mon, focus a bit, darlin'-” He lifts a brow. ”Your ma dropped it when she picked her tissue or whatever that was-”

”My mom, wha-”

Tobias sighs, and smiles, stepping closer to me. ”You are very distracted, you can't even complete your tasks-” He tilts his head. ”Do you wanna talk about something?”

I shake my head, blowing out air. ”I need to focus on my tasks.” I look at the ground Mom once stood on, and where a folded paper now laid.

I walk toward it, and gingerly lift it. It smells like Mom's expensive Dior perfume. I let my fingers explore the paper despite my lack of sensation, and then with a deep breath, I unfold it.

I look back at where Tobias leans against the staircase, looking at me, a hand on his hips, and a small smile on his rosy lips. I look back at the paper and squint at Mom's intricate, cursive handwriting.

”It's a eulogy-” I whisper to myself and purse my lips. And it's only three sentences. ”It's only three sentences-” I say loudly for some reason. My worth is three short sentences.

”The paper holds three sentences?”

”The eulogy does-” I counter.

”Your ma's eulogy?”

Very slowly I turn to him and nod. ”Yes.”

”Read'em out-” He tells me, arms crossed, and copper curls somehow pushed away from his face, fully exposing his wide hazel eyes, and apparently freckled cheekbones.

I hesitantly look down and read. ”A mother for three. A mom for two. I've lost this game, and I ask who killed you?”

I blink at the paper before looking at Tobias who has a blank facial expression.

”That's it?” He then asks. ”Is that a riddle or a eulogy?”

I turn the paper on its back to find it blank. ”This can't be the eulogy-”

”Well, yeah, but what the hell is it?” Tobias asks, and I clear my throat.

”Mom has this habit-” I say slowly, trying to relax. ”She loves writing riddles. When we were young- me, and my brothers- she'd- uh-” I glance up at Tobias. ”She'd ask us, on rainy days, to solve those riddles she'd make up. Jake is usually the one who answers them-” I breathe out. ”And now she leaves me this riddle,” I furrow my eyebrows. ”By accident-” I shut my eyes for an angry moment. ”And I'm just about the dumbest person ever!”

Tobias snicker snaps me out of my thoughts.

”You're laughing?”

Tobias' eyes are crinkling, and his lips are pulled in an easy smile. ”Yes, I am-”

I crumple the paper in my hand and groan.

”Why are you so worked up about this riddle?” He asks me.

”Because it must be about me-” I stress out.

”Really? Who said that?” He asks. ”It's just a riddle. Riddles, for your information, are usually for entertainment purposes. They usually won't hold deadly secrets that would, say, explain the mysterious reasons behind your unholy death-”

”Is it even a riddle?”

”Well, here's the thing-” He says, lifting an index finger, and pointing it at my closed fist. ”If you can understand what it's about then it's not a riddle. And clearly you don't understand what it's about, nor do I. Plus, you said that your ma loves riddles-”

”Well, what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Tobias smirks. ”Well, we're seemingly not going to the Darkoom. This means we're stuck here. With this paper, you happily crumpled. And luckily to you-” His eyes twinkle. ”-I love riddles.”