(Pewdiecry) Bitter almonds.

Chapter 2

It was raining. It was drizzling to be exact.

The funeral was very traditional, open coffins, displayed black and white photos of my two relatives.

It wasn't a quiet funeral. There were sobs, muttering condolences, and talking about how much they knew my grandparents and fond memories they kept stored of them.
A cousin or two would speak about what they knew, congratulate them on there success to the family, and praise them for being well lovable, and admirable.
I agreed. They were good people, there were my caretakers while my mother and father were off on business trips, or other private things you couldn't explain to a child. I had most memories of them, then my parents. I knew they spoiled me, and I guess I turned out fine.

However, I didn't cry during the service in the church. I kept my mind on one thing. Their deaths. How could the officers call this a double sucide? They had all the money in the world, were happy, not loney. And surely were active. They were falsely accused of there own death's and I knew it.

It's werid how I didn't even cry, and all my other relatives at least shed a tear in remorse.

The service lasted for about 2 hours, 1 for the gathering and muttering sorrows, giving last pecks, and last glances at their bodies. The other hour for storys, memorable moments that they had shared with the pair. As well as childhood sunagines.
When it was over, our family relatives, friends and coworkers, piled outside. Chatting, catching up with one another, inviting ones to dinner.
I wasn't intersted in that, no. I was more intersted in the church yard. Gorgoeus flowers by graves, headstones and statues for the lost ones. Willows here and there. Crows perched on limping branches. It all complemented the gloomy sky, and the slow drizzling. It was a depressing sight, but beautiful in a way, hauntily beautiful, one would say. I'm pretty sure they throw me in a mental ward for saying such things, but really it was the truth.

~~~~

The walk home was quiet, my mother didn't even say a thing, she was probably still mourning in grief, maybe wondering why I didn't show any emotion. I hoped should would have guessed it was still were I was growing up, and I most likey didn't remember all that well. but, I did.

I had to say, it worried me why she was this quiet, she would usaully be the one to cheer me up, whenever I was a scourge, whiney, or down right ungrateful. She would always find a way to make me better, now she wasen't even trying at all. I guessed she's pretty shoken up about the 'sucide' of her husband's parents. I would be too, if I didn't have so much on my mind.

We arrived home not long after we stoped at bakery to get some goods, and mom's only words to me were spoken there, asking 'what would you like dear' in a hoarse tone, it was also I noticed then, her eyes were puffed red, and her cheeks titted pink. She was taking this worse than I thought she would. Of course she would, she's apart of there family. Any family memeber close would cry, wouldn't they?

At our lovely home, I had taken the pastrys from the decorated bag, running up the stairs and wondering if mom was going to complain even a little about falling up the stairs, which I was expected to do, since I was that much of a klutz, but just as I had expected, nothing.

I sat on my bed, and plopped a pastry into my mouth, looking around the cream colored walls, at the wardrobe, mirror and huge window that was covered with greyish blue sheets.
"Another 'exciting' eventful day" I muttered to myself sarcastically , although it being muffled from the treat in my mouth. Life couldn't get anymore weird, right? Lost two grandparents at the same time, mother's giving me the silent treatment. Father's been gone for weeks now, and those weird cases of the murders. Wow, what's next?

~~~~~~

?? p.o.v

I hated this grougey room, I hated ever inch and corner of it. The walls were a white, but with the lack of cleaning this small room or 'shack' I like to call, the walls had been tinted yellow. Disgusting. Even some places had the paint peeking away.

The seats weren't any better, uncomfortable, in fluffed. Just no where near luxuries.
The people were just as bad. Some of the other guys had unshaven faces, greasy hair. People really didn't take care of themeselves here did they? They just got there assignments and be on there merry way, oh what am I kidding, none of us acted merry, not even the smallest bit.

It was a funny concept, on how we would wait for our turn. They would go in that single door, and come out with either bags, papers, or for the unfortunate ones, Bruises and black eyes. I would be lying if I said I didn't look at the poor ones.

I hate waiting, and at this place it takes thirty or even more minutes, some times hours to get our rewards. I didn't do it for the money though, I did it for some little 'payback' and the boss knew that, he agreed to keep me updated on 'his' kin, see what things they invested in, what trips they take. So forth and so on.

I'm not a stalker, if you've been put what I've been through, there's no doubt you'd do the same.

(A/n- Hey there! This chapter was going to be much longer, for the unknown  POV, but I cut it a bit short so it would update faster and not be delayed any furher! Plus, I'm quite more confident in writeing for this story, since some people say they enjoy it!)