Autumn's POV

***One Month Later***

I never thought he'd die. He was always so alive, in the way he talked, acted... Even in his smile. His smile was the most amazing thing about him. But this was real. He was really dead.

I sighed, turning to the casket. I hated open-casket funerals, but I guess I could make an exception for this one. I leaned over him, gazing into his pale, worn face. I pretended his eyes weren't closed, and that he had that big goofy grin on his lips. I squeezed his lifeless hand, pretending he was squeezing it back. I sighed again. I guess sometimes the only thing you can do is pretend.

I've been pretending for the past month. Pretending I was fine, acting like I wasn't slipping back into depression. I was just as dead as the body in front of me.

I leaned over, kissing him softly on the lips.

"I'm sorry. I killed you Bert, this is all my fault. I would've loved you, too. I wish you had told me before it was too late. Ya know, before I moved. Before I met Mikey. I'm sorry."

I leaned forward again, kissing his pale, cold lips and leaning away. A tiny, hot tear found its way to my face and I wiped it away quickly as I made my way to the pews. I sat carefully next to Ray, who put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed lightly.

"You ok?" He whispered softly. Of course I'm not, you moron.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." I whispered weakly. I haven't slept in a week, and I barely ate. I only showered today because I wanted to look presentable. I scanned the church, wondering if anyone else would show. Some of Bert's close cousins came, but I didn't really know them.

Someone in the doorway caught my eye. Two tall, strict-looking figures walked in. One was a woman with light blonde hair that was expertly styled up onto her head and heels that would probably destroy her feet. The other, a man, had brown hair that was slicked back and a suit that looked too tight.

Bert's Parents. Bert's abusive parents.

I winced, knowing they would flip their shit when they saw me here. They hated me because when ever I walked in on them beating Bert, I would intervene. Of course, that would just make them beat me too, but I thought maybe one day they would just... Give up. But that never happened.

I stared at them as they stood by the casket exchanging words with the priest. They were Mormon, but Bert rebeled against them by going to different churches. One of them was Catholic, which is why I said that we should have the funeral here, at St. John's.

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Why would they even show up? Did they see this as their last chance to humiliate their son?

They turned to the pews and their eyes fell upon me. Uh-oh. My heart rate quickened, remembering what they did to Bert and I. But then something else happened. I felt... Angry. I'm not really an angry person, but something really pushed me over the edge there. My blood began to boil, and my hear rate slowed a bit. I wasn't scared anymore. Just angry.

I stood up, marching over to them.