Living With The Teller Brothers

Chapter 16- The Funeral

Chapter 16- The funeral

RECAP

When practice was over, I walked to my car and got in. Silently, I drove home, trying not to think about tomorrow. I didn't even know what I was going to wear or more importantly, what I was going to say, but I was going to have Ryder there with me, and I had to focus on that. Everything was going to be fine, because it had to.

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They all knew what was happening tomorrow. All the boys were silent at dinner, and so were Ella and Jax. No one mentioned the horrid day that it was going to be, and to be quite frank with you, I didn't want to think about it because I would break down. I could feel the tears threatening to spill, but I kept them in, not wanting to cry. As soon as I was done pretending to eat, I excused myself from the table and bolted to my bedroom.

The day had been good and bad. I told no one about what happened with Ashley, and the twins didn't rat me out either. I ran up the stairs and went to my room.

I pulled the curtains, brushed my hair and teeth, and put on my pyjamas. I wasn't tired, but I couldn't face seeing anyone right now. The only one I wanted to see was Ryder. I was super grateful that he was helping me through all of this, but I don't want him to think I'm damaged goods, I want him to think I'm strong, not a weak person that needs to be fixed. I can't take the pity, not from him.

I sat on my bed, trying my best to think about pretty much anything other than the fact that tomorrow I was burying my dead parents. I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like I never really realised that they were gone. Going to their funeral was making it real, and it meant that they're really gone. Emotions came rushing, and everything I'd been holding back for the past months were just too much. Slowly, I felt the hysteria creep up inside me. I pulled my phone out of my bag, and reflexively dialed his number. He answered right away.

"Booboo, what's up? Already missing my gorgeous face?" Ryder answered, playfully.

"Ry, I don't think I can do this," I panicked. I think he sensed my alarm because his response was haste.

"I'll be right there baby, give me 5 minutes," he said, hanging up.

I tried to breathe in and out slowly to calm down, but nothing was working. I felt my eyes stinging with unshed tears, and a sob escaped my lips. They were gone, for real. And in less than twelve hours, I was going to stand in front of people I didn't even know and say words that meant nothing to these individuals.

Suddenly, my grief was replaced by anger and rage. Why did they have to leave me? I wanted to scream, I wanted to hurt and destroy. I grabbed the framed picture of them on my bedside table and threw it as hard as I could against the wall in front of me. The glass of the frame shattered, and I jumped up, grabbing the first things I found, throwing them as hard as I could. I walked around my room like a hurricane, making a mess of everything. I screamed and took a vase from my dresser, and threw it on the floor, smashing the glass. I pushed all the books from my desk on the floor and ripped all the pictures of my parents to shreds.

The pain came rushing back, the loss, it was all unbearable. I slumped to the ground and started to sob. It felt good to let it all out. I'd been holding it in for so long. I heard footsteps, but didn't move. I kept crying, not caring what happened to me. I couldn't breathe, I hadn't been able for months. I felt like I was underwater, holding my breath, but never came up for air. A pair of strong arms pulled me up and set me on their lap. He cradled me and held me while I cried. I nuzzled my face in his neck, and I recognized Ryder's scent. I bawled even more, because for some reason, it felt good to weep, and he made me feel like it was okay to cry. It felt good to be held by him.