threads

1 | the funeral

The day wasn't fit for a funeral. The sky was crystal clear, so bright blue Cassie couldn't look directly at it. She felt a bit ridiculous wearing her red sunglasses, the only pop of color among the funeral goers, but she wasn't bothered enough to care.

She was surrounded by family friends and family members, all dressed in shadows and eyebags. The faces were familiar, but she felt so out of place anyway.

The conditions were good for burning up in the sun instead, standing around the cemetery while two caskets were lowered into the ground side by side. They were empty caskets, Cassie knew, and that fact put a lump in her throat.

Afterwards, they all sat in a small room at the back of the church, picking at food on tiny paper plates. No one was really eating, though. It was all for show. The conversation was for show too, filled with empty pleasantries that got stuck in mouths.

Cassie felt a bit sick. Whether it was the heat, the grief, or an awful mix of the two was uncertain but the sickness sat at the bottom of her stomach like a stone the whole time nevertheless.

"Cassandra, dear, I'm sorry for your loss." A particularly unlikeable aunt put her hand on Cassie's shoulder, an act that was supposed to be comforting but instead caused Cassie to shrink and twist away from the point of contact.

She held a plastic cup of sparkling lemonade in her hand, her husband standing awkwardly off to the side.

"Thank you, auntie," Cassie said through gritted teeth.

She had always been the kid to cling to her parents at social gatherings. Now, that shield was gone, and she was taking on bullet holes at an alarming rate. If she wasn't careful, she would sink before the day was through.

"Charles and I are always here for you if you need anything. You know that, don't you, dearie?"

Charles offered a grin, more tooth than joy, his eyes darting anywhere that didn't involve looking at Cassie. She couldn't stand it, any of it.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate it." Cassie could not count the number of people who had said that to her on both hands. To be honest, she was getting a bit tired of hearing these fake niceties.

As people started trickling out, disappearing with bittersweet smiles and half hearted waves, a new face appeared in the crowd. He was a thin man in a well pressed suit, eyes sharp. He scanned the crowd, and when his eyes caught Cassie, he moved towards her like a hawk in search of his next meal.

She felt more unsettled than she had all day, setting her plate down on the table behind her and brushing her hands together. "Can I help you?"

A second ago, she would have taken anything as an excuse to get away from her aunt. Now? Well, this guy made her want to run and hide.

"Cassandra Lowell?" He asked in return. His voice was not much more polite than his appearance, cutting through the stale air like a sharp knife. Cassie winced at the sound.

"That's me." Came her curt reply.

"I'm sorry to interrupt in the midst of this... occasion, but I am here to speak to you. It is in regards to the last will and testimony of your parents."

The world all but dropped out from underneath her feet. She hadn't known her parents had even made their wills. She hadn't known they had any plans for their inevitable fate, because as far as she knew, it had come far too soon.

Cassie followed the man into the main area of the church, sitting down next to him in the pews.

She blanked out most of what he said, but as he was standing to leave, he popped open the briefcase he clutched in both hands and pulled out a thick yellow envelope which he placed in her hands.

She looked up, trying to read his face. She wondered if he enjoyed this job, being the guy to show up on the worst day. She wouldn't enjoy that.

"I am sorry for your loss." He said, the way that someone says something they are told to say but don't really mean, and then he turned on his heels and was gone.

The curiosity began to gnaw away at her stomach immediately.