𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗬 - 𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀

𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗖𝗛

i cant stop doing the math in my head; right now it's 10:23am on a monday, it's been 1 week, 2 days, 1 hour, and 46 minutes since chris had a reaction to the peanut oil in his water—he died only an hour later.

i'm beyond grateful that as an agent in the fbi i have a built in legal team, but—as of right now, at least—i just need a lawyer. i had one appointed to me, addi is her name, and she isn't the worst. she's not the person that i would want to be stuck with for the rest of my life, but then again, i can only think of one person who i would want to be around in that situation, but she's alright. she's in her thirties, not bad-looking, and she has a sense of humor (something that's needed to lighten the mood when you're fighting against murder charges.)

we're having a meeting, it's our second one since the detective called emily and me in to speak with him, not counting the times we see each other for more unexpected things like home searches, drug tests, and interrogations.

"how're you coping with chris's death? have they had a funeral yet?"

"it's today, my parents texted me."

my parents are conflicted. i think they know that i didn't hurt chris, but they are unsure of who and what to believe. the police have been questioning emily and me non-stop, so much so that i've only had time to call my parents once in the past week. i haven't heard from josh, i think he's upset and confused, he might not want to talk to his sister who could've murdered his best friend, but i still miss his voice.

addis brows shoot up. "emilia, you should go. that would be a positive thing for both you and the investigation. you can pay your respects and gain some closure after a traumatic event."

i don't want to go to the funeral. they're having it at some church in midway island—a tiny town about 15 minutes away from me—where chris's parents live. i'd rather not see my family, who i know will hardly talk to me, along with chris's family, but i'm sure that the feeling is mutual with them; the last person i'd want to see at my kids funeral is the person of interest for their murder.

"no thanks."

addi clears her throat and gives me a shrewd look. "let me put this another way. go to that funeral, emilia, or this investigation could get even more complicated than it already is. i can go with you."

and that's how i ended up here.

we were late and the church is packed, who knew that chris had so many friends. i wonder if he's hurt any other girls in here, maybe i was the only one, or maybe there was multiple, maybe they're being forced to come here today too. the service hasn't started yet but nobody's talking, addi and i barely find space to sit in the last pew. i haven't been in a church since i was little, my parents used to take us every sunday, but i stopped attending as a teenager. since then, i'm not sure where i fall on the religious spectrum. i'm not an atheist—i think that something has to be out there—but i'm not christian either. despite having not been in a church since i was young, it has the same feel and look as it always did; red carpet, shiny dark wood, tall stained glass windows, and the smell of incense.

the service is crawling with cops, they're not i uniform but i can tell. some one them look my way, i tug at the necklace falling over my collarbones. i soon realize that they're not only glaring at me, but at someone else across the room. i follow their eyes down the large rows of people, some of them weeping and some whispering. their gazes fall on a dark haired woman, i can only see the back of her head until she turns around; emily. her lawyer must've had the same idea as addi, she probably got dragged here as well.

i keep grazing my eyes over people but i recognize no one except for emily and my family, who sit all bunched together, my mother crying and my brother choking back tears, my father comforting them both simultaneously. i rip my eyes away from them as the service starts, i cant bear to watch them mourn, not when they refuse to even acknowledge my existence.