Fairy-Tale Therapy~ Trouble In Neverland (Book #1) **ON HOLD**

Chapter 1~ The Stranger At The Funeral

     She was gone. She was really gone. My mother, the only mother I've ever had, the only mother I've ever wanted, the only mother I've ever known, was gone. We were sitting in the first pew at the front of the church. It was reserved strictly for family. Very few members showed up to the funeral though. Everyone said that they were either too busy or they were just too lazy to show up. The only members to show up were my uncle Jim on my dad's side and my aunt Gabriela on my mother's side.

     Aunt Gabriela was my mother's older sister. She and my mother shared a bond that I wished I could've known with a sibling of my own, but it wasn't meant to be. Apparently, my mother thought I was enough to keep her happy for years to come. It was just a shame that she couldn't live out her wish that I so desperately wanted to be a part of.

     My uncle Jim was just my mother's brother-in-law, but they were also the best of friends. I could remember both my mom and my dad telling me stories about when they met. My uncle Jim was a close friend of my mother's. My dad had his sights set on my mother for a long time but was never able to muster up the courage to ask her out on a date. The story of them meeting was like a fairy-tale, my dad and his brother conjured up a plan to ask my mother out. The ridiculous scheme won my mother over. Uncle Jim told my mother that he could design and create a better pair of shoes than she since they were taking a designing class in high school. My mother was a competitive woman and didn't back down from the challenge. My father was to judge the better designer. When mother showed up with her shoes, something clicked and then my mother and father were inseparable. One thing led to another and my parents ended up going out.

     It disappointed me that they were the only family members to show up. Everyone said that my mother was loved dearly by everyone she knew, but apparently they didn't love her enough to show up to her last day on the Earth's surface. For the rest of eternity, she'll only exist in my heart and will never be seen above ground again.

     All I could do throughout the funeral was sit. Sit and listen to the priest speak. I couldn't cry, I was too stunned to shed any tears. It saddened me that I coudn't physically express my own sadness. If my mother were looking down on me, I wanted her to see that I missed her. While I listened to the priest, I stared at my mother resting peacefully in her casket. She looked beautiful. She looked just like Snow White, I was almost convinced that she was. But I knew all too well that my father's kiss wouldn't wake her. I may have been 6 but I knew the difference between death and sleep.

     The time came for words from mother's friends and family. I desperately wanted to speak, but I had to wait my turn. There was a list that everyone followed, my name sat at the very end. I was disappointed that I was the last to speak, but it was only polite for people older than me to speak first. After all, they knew my mother longer than I have right? I had to hold my tongue. First was my aunt Gabriela, then came my uncle Jim, after that was the head of the orphanage my mother volunteered at, then came me. Little, old, insignificant me. Someone who wouldn't turn the heads of my mother's friends let alone touch their hearts. My mother's cold-blooded murderer.

     When my aunt spoke, she spoke about when she and my mother were little.

     "I remember when Rosy and I were younger. We used to fight over the silliest of things. They ranged from who got date that one boy to who got to eat the last tortilla." She chuckled humorlessly. It was too dark to even sound like one, it sounded more like delicate grunts. "Now that she's gone, I wished that I gave her the last tortilla. I wished that I was a better hermana to her."

     I blinked. The rest of the room was quiet. I was sure that my aunt meant every word she said, but it just didn't seem sincere. I don't know what it was. Was it the length? If she really loved my mother, wouldn't she have said more? Or maybe it was how it was said. It was dull, to the point to where it could've been general. Like you could've said the same thing at someone else's funeral. But it didn't matter, I could tell she meant it.