I Hate Funerals |

104K 2.1K 564


I wrote this book 5 years ago when I was 16 and had no idea how to write a book. I'm currently re-writing and editing this story so for any confusion as your reading please Blame my 16 year old self. Thanks 😘


The nerve of my broken twisted family. They actually showed up today. My Aunt and Uncle and a few of my younger cousins were all gathered in there seats along with lots of other extra people mourning with saddening looks on there faces.


I was furious. It's my mothers funeral for Christ's sake and now they wanna show up! Where were they when I called them at 2 and 3 in the morning when my parents would leave me in the middle of the night almost every night and I wondered if they were even coming back?

Where were they when my mom desperately tried to escape my abusive father but no one would help her go through with it? He actually wasn't even my real father but shes been with him so long he was the closest to one.

I never saw them take drugs or do them but I knew the signs and I knew what it looked like when people were normal vs when they are hyped up on something or simply going crazy.

My family wasn't ever here to help but now they want to come and mourn in black clothes like they are good people? like they really give a shit?

The part that didn't make sense to me what how did they die from drugs but I found bloody as if they were beaten? It was weird but the cops told me it was drugs.


I hated funerals. It was bad enough that my mind felt like one. Sad, black, dead even. The atmosphere of funerals are what is worse for me but I was forced to come here unfortunately.

The small church that we were in is our family church. I guess It was interesting with big windows with blue angels in them. Huge rows of brown seats and big enough space in the front where the priest stands, next to my mothers body in the casket.

I grew up coming to this church and I would only go when my great grandmother would take me and I always hated it. I never felt connected to any of it I guess.

I was lost in a battle in my head when I felt a body sit next to me and a arm wrap around my shoulder. My body automatically tensed up.

"Ariel I'm so sorry, I should have come to your rescue every single time you called me." My aunt Caroline cried out. Tears staining her pretty face. "I'm so so sorry"

I almost felt a little sorry for her but I wouldn't allow it. She actually looked hurt though. She was the rich one out of her and my mom. The college graduate. The one my grandmother was proud of. She thought she was better then us and has not ever thought to help me when I really really needed her. I sent her my meanest glare feeling my anger bubble from the deepest pit inside me rising to the edge of me as I thought about her selfish ways. I scooted over making her arm fall away from my body.

"Fuck off." I clenched my teeth while glaring at her. Hating the fact that she Had the guts to even touch me. I hated to be touched. She jumps from the tone of my voice and gasps. Her face turned much more sad and sobs more.

She stands to leave and I turn my attention elsewhere. Ignoring the sorry looks that were given to me left and right. More of my family and a few family friends took turns to take a walk to my mothers casket. It was closed of course. I was told that the cuts on her body were so bad that they couldn't even stitch it together so they decided on a closed casket.

My dad's funeral was the day before yesterday and his casket was open. They dressed him in an expensive cashmere sweater which was odd to me. He was the most broke man I've ever came in contact with and no family around so I had no idea as to how he got to be buried in that and how he and my mothers funerals were even paid for.

Adopted By My Step BrothersWhere stories live. Discover now