Page 64 of Ramsay

I studiously ignore Ramsay’s warning knowing I’m possibly walking into a shit storm next week. After all, I’m a fucking thorn in his fine ass side.

Gah.

I knew what the Sinners were capable of, and still, I allowed myself to be pulled in.

No more.

The morning of the funeral is overcast and gray. We never bothered with turkey, and the holiday passed as though it never happened, which is not unusual in our house where celebrating is an afterthought if done at all.

The procession is small, the audience tiny because very few of Carmen’s friends from before bother to show up, but I am surprised to see Candy, her former BFF walk through the door. She tumbled down the same hole Carmen found herself in, and last I heard, still lived there.

During my time on the dark side, she was around a lot, dating one of the cruel guys who obeyed every one of Jagger’s harsh demands with an iron fist. Seeing her here now is a painful reminder of my own sketchy decisions, including the night that changed me forever, which was also the event that inspired my parents to finally pull me out.

Although they’ll never know the extent of what they saved me from. Some horrors are too real to share, and I know only too well what the cost would be.

Now she stands nervously in the aisle, her pale features tight with unease. She looks better than she did before, clean, but she’s aged, as we all do after the experiences we’ve had while stuck in our nightmare.

Approaching her slowly, I battle my own demons, the ones whispering in my ear of how easy it would be to leave with her and find the high that’s always in the back of my mind.

I see the way she trembles. She’s newly sober, and it wouldn’t take much to drag her back into hell. The knowledge is like a lick of fire in my veins, crackling along my skin, giving me a momentary high.

She smiles tremulously, and the spell is broken. Shame spirals through my system at my wicked thoughts and when she meets my stare, her eyes bright with understanding, I exhale slowly.

“Hey,” I whisper, stopping before her.

Her once lush chocolate brown hair hangs dry and brittle around her shoulders, and her green eyes are wary as they stare at me surrounded by the harsh lines and peaks of an addict's life.

“Hey,” she says softly, tapping her fingers against her leg.

Ignoring the tic, I ask, “How are you?”

Stupid question. I know how she is. She’s on the verge of cracking, and it’s evident in every line of her body.

Before the drugs, Carmen and Candy had been best friends since kindergarten and I don’t know who influenced whom, but I suspect Carmen led Candy down the road to paradise only to leave her in purgatory.

“I’m alright. I’m...sorry,” she says lamely.

Nodding, I glance around the somber space, as Mom’s thin sobs ring out pathetically behind us, a sound I’ve grown so used to, I barely hear it anymore. There’s nothing I can say to make this better and nothing she can say either because we’re stuck in this fucking hell whether we like it or not.

Looking into Candy’s eyes, though, I realize I’m lucky because I got out, and if it takes a battle with myself every fucking day, I will stay that way. Candy is a mirror of myself, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she walks out this door and back into her nightmare because sometimes, it’s easier just to give in.

I know, I’m a door away from the same damn thing, and once it forms, it’s always there, even if I never choose to open it.

After we exchange awkward pleasantries, she sits toward the back while I take my place next to my mom. I’m numb through the ceremony, the words of the pastor sailing over my head. Carmen would’ve laughed at the religious pretense, for she was no more a believer than I. Frankly, my parents aren’t exactly devout either, but I guess if this gives them peace, who am I to judge?

Candy takes off after the eulogy, and our tiny family gathers around the grave where a mostly empty coffin is lowered into the ground. Part of me is disgusted by it all. Why the full-body casket? Wouldn’t it have been better to cremate her?

As the pastor drones on, macabre images of her head rolling around inside the monstrosity dance in my brain until I can't stand my own fucking thoughts.

Birds chirp in the background, and I glance behind me when the back of my neck tingles a warning, drawn to a figure standing off in the distance. Tall and thin, I surmise it’s a man. He’s facing away from us, but his bearing is off.

Is this one of Carmen’s friends?

Unease trickles down my spine, and as soon as the short speech is over, I back away to get a better look. My parents, oblivious in their grief, crowd around the casket to say their goodbyes. It’s painful to see, but I told mine a long time ago.

When I turn, the man is gone, with nothing more than the wind rustling the tree beside which he stood. I walk up to the crest of the hill and stop by the tree, glancing around. There’s nothing but dirt on this side of the hill, untouched land as far as the eye can see. With a curious frown, I step down the incline in my heels, wobbling in the precarious soil before I slip and, with an oomph, drop to my ass in the cold, crunchy grass.

“Fuck.”

---