Page 37 of What's Left of Us

Cabin… take me back to then. Away from this.

My thoughts wander, and Sterling is forced away. The next face I don't recognize so I don't even focus on it.

Staring up, I should see the ceiling. But there's Fake Porscha again, leaning over me, even as I feel the restraints fall away. She’s been missing for weeks and suddenly she’s a constant presence, never far away from me.

I'm being lifted, and still she's above me. She didn't go away. My body's going numb, and I'm not sure what's happening anymore.

My head falls to one side, and she's still there. Fake Porscha studies me, and suddenly her hair seems to get longer. It's more of a strawberry blonde now. And her familiar icy green eyes turn hypnotic blue.

I’m dying. Am I dying or just losing my mind finally?

Minus the scars and the dimple piercings, the face starting back at me now is Jo.Joelle.The girl I fell in love with in high school.

It doesn’t make sense that she is standing here, a version of my past looking down at me while I know the real Jo is somewhere in this hospital panicking. But the illusion’s eyes are soft, kind, and they have the same draw that real Jo’s did the firsttime I met her. Like she had decided she liked me, and refused to let go.

There's an endless droning noise in the back of my head that I can't escape. So when High School Jo holds out her hand to me, giving me a real smile, I reach out and take it.

Part 2: Death Row

Chapter 10

3 weeks later

It rains a lot in Florida, but I like to think the sky wept a little extra for him today. Right now there's no reason left to smile, and sunshine would just be a mockery.

I try to focus on what the priest is saying, the wooden box containing my love sitting on the green grass. The priest gives a standard speech but I can't grip onto a single word he's saying.

Beside me, Emeric gives my hand a squeeze. We barely had time to talk when he finally booked a flight, and on his other side I know my cousin Serenity is here, sitting in silence, trying to take it all in.

Weeks. It’s beenweeks.These were the three longest weeks of my life, and it feels like we didn’t actually get anywhere. There was little I could do to help except try to not burn in the midst of my grief.

On my other side, Vinny won't let go of my hand. He's not left my side for weeks, always finding a reason to touch me.Now, more than ever, it feels like my life is absolutely out of control. I need my husband beside me to be my rock.

Somewhere in the crowd is Sterling, and I believe the rest of his team as well. For obvious reasons we didn't sit together; I'm sitting in the front row reserved for family, but I wish I could have him next to me as well. We all need each other's strength.

WelostAlastair, and the thought alone makes my heart squeeze tighter at the reminder. He’s gone, and now I can’t even keep Sterling beside me as we say goodbye.

“...long live the Slayers! Long live the Slayers!”

I turn my attention to the group standing almost half a mile away in the cemetery. Apparently since they aren't protesting, but boldly sharing their love, no one can kick them out. They aren't enough of a disturbance it seems, and they’re far enough back from the funeral procession that they aren’t officially impeding on the proceedings.

But they are ruining the funeral.Hisfuneral. Fake fans don't belong here.

The hat I'm wearing blocks my view of the coffin like this but the bare shoulders and upper arms of my black dress give Vinny easy access to lightly kiss my skin that's on display. His touch is calming, and I’m glad for a moment that my husband can’t see my tears. We paid for the funeral so he got more than a cheap cremation. We wanted him to have a proper burial.

Unfortunately, the cemetery told me they wouldn’t shut down the place to keep fans like the Slayers out, and at one point the woman in charge even told me I was being a little irrational and I needed to calm down or they wouldn’t permit the service.

I hate it here. I hate Florida, I hate Citrus Grove, and I hate the fact that Alastair’s plot doesn’t even have a proper marker yet. It might be days or even weeks but I hate that we can’t even lay him to rest with his name above him.

I hate how unfair it is. I hate that we’re burying him in Florida, instead of back home where I could selfishly visit him every day. But he never got to come to Colorado with us, and introducing him to my home via a gravesite feels too cruel. This plot at least has a nice view of the area, and the grass should always be green.

Even the rain hitting my bare skin can’t match the cold I feel inside. Glaring at the Slayers, still making noise down the way, I can’t help but at least be grateful for whoever Xeno brought. Large, dark SUVs line one side of the road, and although the men standing around them obscuring the path aren’t part of the funeral, they have acted as a barrier anytime someone tries to come over here from the disruptive group.

Emeric turns and glances at me, and I shut my eyes instead of meeting his gaze. There’s pain in his green eyes, his dark hair sticking to his head. We could use an umbrella, but I didn’t really care to shut out the rain when we sat down. I can pretend Alastair is crying with us this way.

Vinny kisses my shoulder again, then squeezes my hand a few times quickly. “Jo.”

I turn back, opening my eyes when I’m facing him. I can see Sterling standing beneath an umbrella with his team up ahead, Gabe is still sitting with one hand against his side.

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