Undercover Badge.

CHAPTER 28

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THIRD LAST CHAPTER, WOOP WOOP!

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CHAPTER 28.

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I looked just like her. I stood in my bathroom, staring at the mirror. My parents died two weeks ago. I wore all black. A silk dress. Black stockings. Black wrist gloves. My hair was pulled tightly back into a ballerina bun. My eyes made dark and smoky. My lips echoed a dark red, as if stained with their blood. My skin was creamy and pale, and in contrast to my lips, I looked like a corpse myself. I looked just like my mother, because, dressed like this, I looked beyond my years. I had no worries that my make up would run. I knew I wouldn't cry. Not like I cared if I looked bad anyway. I cried, two weeks ago that early morning, on a staircase. But I wouldn't again. James had been away since then, leaving me in the care of five mercenaries, and five trained body guards. Just for me. Because my house was otherwise empty. Dead, like the corpses I would put to rest today.

"Kat." my nine year old cousin, Jack, stood in the doorway. He was yet to his growth spurt, and he stood lower than me, wearing a black tux, his hair, the same shade as my fathers, combed back. "We're about to leave."

I nodded, grabbing my black clutch bag, and following him out the bathroom door, through my bedroom, that had been removed of everything. The walls were now painted black. The bed the only accessory inside. My walls were stripped bare, and not a single personal item littered the shelves, aside from the guns hidden here and there.

I followed Jack down the stairs, through the foyer, with two guards on my tail. My fathers extended family littered our front garden, all talking almost all crying. The only people not crying, was me, my guards, jack, my two other little cousins, and the guy driving the hearse. Shania's extended family mingled in, and I'd met them briefly.

As soon as I cleared the doorway, the decibel of crying and talking died to silence, leaving behind a hollow echo. They could have been less obvious, I'm sure.

I ignored them and walked to the black car with the dark tinted windows, and got in the back. Three guards joined me in the car. One would be on a bike in front, two would be in the black Land Rover behind the bike in front of me, and other one on the bike would go behind the car I was in, two more guys in the black Land Rover behind the bike, and one last guy on a bike behind them. I'd been raised to high security stakes, because I was the only connection to the gang.

The cars moved, silently and stealthily through the streets of this town to its grave yard. I knew the cars of the family would soon follow.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I was allowed out of the car. Five guys spread out. Two stayed five meters in front of me, two stayed on my flanks, and one stayed four meters behind me.

I walked toward the grave. My family had arrived, and they made their way over to where we were supposed to meet. They were crying harder now.

Two graves, side by side, marked their resting place. Topped with black marble headstones, with sunken golden inscriptions.

My fathers simply said; 'Father. Protector. Friend.'

Shania's; 'Mother. Protector. A pillar of strength.'

I waited as people gathered around. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the priest walked toward us, and stood between the graves as the caskets were arranged over them. Matching black, varnished wood with gold detailing.

The man in the robes spoke, and read from a black, leather bound book. The bible. I heard him say what he was told to. Read the scriptures told, and finally, ask for word to my spoken. My fathers brother, Nathanial, raised his hand, and stood in front of us.

"My brother was strong, and proud... and he protected Katrina. He was a good man, and he will be missed." his face was blotchy.

He moved away. My grandmother rose, said her bid, crying her heart out. My aunt rose. Said what she had to say. Deep words of regret for not spending more time with her dead brother.

Members of Shania's family stood, proclaiming their love, and how they would miss her.

"Is that the last?" the priest asked, eyeing the collection.

I felt eyes settle on me, and knew I could not escape this.

I took five steps, done. Faced my family. "They're dead. Its my fault. I'll make it right." It was more than I'd spoken the past two weeks combined. My voice was dead, even to my own ears.

I turned, and watched as the caskets were lowered. People threw down roses, sobbing, and then their handfuls of dirt. I waited till every one was gone. And I still stood. Well into the night, I just...

Stood there.

I stared at the caskets, in holes in the ground. Hardly fair, I thought.

"I will make this right." I whispered, my voice holding the seal of a promise.

When I looked up, I saw a figure, leaning against a tree. He wore a black suit with a white shirt, his tie hanging loose and his top two buttons undone. His hair seemed to have suffered a slight haircut. His eyes were watching me, midnight blue as ever.

I turned, and walked away from him.

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