Headsets For Fear

PRESENT 02 : KAITLIN

Three days after

Corinne always used to recite a quote to me - The dead receive more flowers than the living, because regret it stronger than gratitude. She'd read it in some book, the name of which I couldn't recall for my life. C

Most of the times, I would just brush it off as one of those dark moods she soetimes had. Or perhaps, she was trying to assert the fact that she was so valuable, yet so underrated.

For the first time in my life, I actually felt how close to home the quote was. The writer was a fucking genius.

I knew that losing Corinne had changed me for the worse. I noticed it in my untidy rooms which I never allowed a speck of dust to land on before; in my uncouth appearance, which I never allowed to be anything less than flawless before, and most importantly, in my heart. Someone had probably drilled a hole in it.

Corinne had made my life a lot easier - be it completing my assignments when it school, or always taking care of me and trying to protect me  and my parents as if we were infants. And even though we we didn't really have anything in common, I loved her in the annoyingly persistent way you love a sister.

The worst thing about having a helpful sister? You take her for granted even more than your parents.

Hence, her death had shaken me up more than anything else ever could. And that was why, Mom was the only one giving the farewell speech.

Even through the haze that I felt around me, I could feel myself contradicting the things she said.

She was sweet? Yeah, as sweet as a fucking gourd.
With a smile that could light up everyone's faces? Wow, that never happened to me.
Humble? She was HUMBLE?

Another part of my mind kept on chastising me - what do you get from doing this? Proving that you were better than she was? You know that's not true don't you?

My sister was dead.

My Mom said, "She was a lovely child, but often undevalued" - and glared at me. That made me jump. I looked around to make sure no one else had noticed that.

Octavio had. He patted my shoulder gently. "Hey, don't be mad at her. It's hard for her too."

I nodded.

I wondered how Octo wasn't feeling as disoriented as I was. He could stand the pain in such a brave way, while I was crumbling to pieces. Perhaps, it was because he had faced the same shock six years ago. From the death of Jonathan, his elder brother. Both him and Corinne were killed in the same way - head smashed against wall to create a terrifying and disgusting mess of hair, blood, drool and, in Corinne's case, small chunks of cement.

I had vomited every single chunk of food I consumed the previous night when I saw her that morning. After that, I fainted, and Mom did all the work. Calling the FBI, that is.

Once the service was over, my Mom came up to me and gave me a hug. Then, she nodded at me, before going to attend the innumerable people who had arrived at the service.

I don't know why, but Mom had made it a point to call every single person we ever had a close connection with, to Corinne funeral. The number of people were so many that most had to remain standing during the service. I wondered if that pissed them off. I wondered if half of them even cared about her at this point of time.

Since everyone had been called, so had Benjamin. And his friends. And their friends. And boyfriends.

I searched for him in the crowd. My heart skipped a beat, ever so slightly, when it finally fell on his dark figure. Now now, I muttered to myself. It's been six years since you broke up. Not fucking now.