Chapter 17: Dead Man at a Funeral
It was a week later after my father’s death. I’d only had the wind knocked out of me and a small bit of damage done to my rib because of the impact damage from the bullet. My mom still wouldn’t talk to me about what happened, and I had no idea where Jacob was! I was always upset… not a normal upset either. Kind of upset that I knew deep, deep down would never go away; even though I tried to play it off cool. It was… complicated. The nurses would often come in and change me, and try to make me feel better by bringing in some of my more babyish toys that my mom brought one day after the shooting; but I never wanted to play. One would think that in this situation, I would want to revert more into babyhood. But I didn’t. I wanted to man up! I wanted to stop all of this… this… retarded shit! I hated life; and I hated myself. It was my fault after all! My fault my father had died… If it hadn’t been for the stupid pocket watch that I accepted, then my father probably wouldn’t be dead!
I had gotten up that morning, surprisingly dry. My mother walked in, checking to see if I was wet or not. We didn’t say anything to each other, though. I knew what today was. Today was my father’s funeral. After a quick bath that the nurses helped me finish, even though I really didn’t need their help; I was dressed into black clothing. The only thing I could possibly say about them was the fact that my shriveled heart was probably more dead and black then the clothing I was wearing. The ride to the funeral home was short. It wasn’t too long from the hospital at all, really; maybe about ten or fifteen minutes’ drive. When we arrived, there weren’t too many people there. I saw Justin and Rebecca, who was holding Jacob’s hand. Almost instantly I got jealous. The only problem was that I didn’t know who I was jealous OF. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to simply walk over and snatch Jacob up, or Rebecca. It was confusing. I hopped out of the car, striding quickly to the two. I looked at the blond, and then the silver haired boy, and tapped them both on the shoulders. they turned around quickly, letting go of each other’s hands.
“T-Tristian…” Rebecca said sympathetically.
“Tristian!” Jacob yelled, grabbing onto me and bursting into tears. “D-d-d-daddy’s dead!” he said. I immediately shoved him off of me, knocking him down onto the ground.
“He’s not your dad you little fag.” I said coldly. I wasn’t in the mood for his childish games, NOR was I willing to let him refer to MY father, as DADDY!
“W-what?” He said, picking himself up. My mother was elsewhere already, and hadn’t seen what I had done.
“TRISTIAN?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” Rebecca screamed.
“Nothing is wrong with ME! What’s wrong with YOU?” I snapped back quickly.
“Tristian, don’t do this. We are trying to help you!” Rebecca replied.
“Help me? Oh no. I think you two need to help yourselves;” I started, storming off towards a nearby patch of woods “enjoy your faggy little baby games!” I finished.
I sat in the woods, alone; crying for ten minutes before my mom finally started calling for me. I got up from where I was sitting, and walked over to her. She didn’t seem mad, so I assumed that Jacob and Rebecca hadn’t said anything to her.
“Come on… it’s time.” She teared. I walked with her to where a large hole had been dug in the ground. The only other people there besides me, my mom, Jacob, Rebecca and her father, were Police chief O’Doyle and his wife. I gave him a cold stare, one that shot daggers into ones heart, and stayed there for a very long time.
The ceremony began, and my father’s casket was brought out. It was a mahogany coffin, and bared his name on the side.
“John Charles hawk was a good man, and a loving father. He worked hard to preserve what he felt was justice. He had two sons before passing, who he loved very much.” A priest said. I clenched my fists and my teeth.
“You’re wrong…” I muttered behind closed teeth. No one looked at me. No one was caring about me. Even my father wasn’t paying attention… because he was dead. It only started hitting me right then and there.
“My dad is dead… and I killed him…” I thought over and over again in my head. As his coffin was placed deep into the ground, I started to break down. It started as a trickle of tears, but became more and more prominent. I started crying, and then I started going into hysterics. The sheer weight of the situation brought me onto my knees, and then my hands. Jacob came over first to comfort me, putting his hand on my shoulder as I was groveling like a mongrel dog on the ground.
“Tristian-“he started. The moment I felt his touch, I turned and swung. I swung hard, missing him by an inch.
“SHUT UP YOU FUCKING FAKER!” I screamed. Everyone turned. I got up; my whole world closing down around me. I felt like this was just some bad dream that I couldn’t wake up from. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I got to my feet, my arms dangling like a marionette on loose strings. I turned and ran. I ran to the car, and shut the door behind me. I had jumped into the back seat, where my car seat sat. I got angry then. I got out of the car on the side where the un-busy road was, and I undid the seatbelt holding the car seat in place. I ripped it out, holding it over my head. I ran towards another patch of nearby woods, and I threw it in as hard as I could. I hated myself, and Jacob. I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. I hopped into the passenger’s side seat, until the ceremony was finished. My mom came back with Jacob in tow, distraught and crying. Jacob was the one comforting her. I didn’t say anything, as she got into the driver’s side seat and Jacob got into the back.
“Why did you leave?” She asked between sobs. I only had one response.
“What good’s a dead man at a funeral?”