So Close

Chapter 25

Hey everyone, Im back!

This chapter was really difficult to write because I had to draw on a lot of expereinces so I hope that you apreciate and or enjoy it? I dont know, I'm never confident when shoing you what I've written.

Anyway, Ive had a lot of stuff going on and I kind of hated writing but I am getting back in the swing of things hopefully. I have also removed Whatever Happened To Laura Bridges because, if Im being honest, i was never going to write that and instead put the moderated version in The Collection, which is some non-fanfic short stories I have written.

Stay With Me/ I Just Cant Stay Away is drawing to a close which is depressing so check out the TWO new chapters that I put up and let me know about that.

I love you guys so much.

GiGi

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Is it inappropriate? Maybe.

But being here is what I need to do, where I need to be if I ever want to remove this burning ball of lead from my stomach that has been holding me back all week. Zayn went to London for the week with school and Ms Halliday, my caring art teacher, was ill, so the fact that I have been emotionally unwell has gone by unnoticed.

I am beginning to question my choice to be here, I shouldn’t be hurting those that have just lost something, something that I lost not so long ago. I shouldn’t be punishing those who want to remember him as they knew him and reminding them of what he did. I don’t want to be the source of another’s pain.

I was currently at Anthony Flenning's funeral. I was watching from the back of the small church. About to cry. There were so many weeping people. So many people wishing he had lived longer. People loving him despite what he did. I look around, not remembering if my mother’s funeral had this many people sobbing. I don’t remember anything about it, except for the light. His funeral didn’t have the light. I was so grateful for this, you cannot believe.

“Anthony Flenning was a caring man. He loved everyone he met and they loved him back for it. It is devastating that he was taken from this earth to be held in god’s arms so early. We will now here a speech written by his eldest daughter, Charlotte.”

I didn’t know he had a child. I didn’t know he had several. Why would this change how I feel? There are similarities between him and mum. That means that he was a human. A living, breathing, feeling, hurting, laughing human. One who I have things in common with despite my hatred for the man. A man I had never met. A man who made a mistake. A man who made a mistake and hurt so many people.

I stared, watching from a pew at the back as a short, curvy brunette girl with swishy hair began to climb the few steps up to the podium where the funeral director had stood moments ago. Tears were brimming in her eyes but determination shone through.

“We need to stop pretending that my father was perfect. We need to remember him, warts and all, because that means remembering HIM and not a glorified version. He wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes and hurt people. One of those was letting a substance grip him when he was down. That substance caused him to be reckless and stupid, so different from the Anthony that we knew and loved. The same substance that lead to me having to make this speech today. He made mistakes, dreadful ones. But he never stopped punishing himself for them. That’s why Im telling you this. You need to release any resentment and guilt you have, otherwise it will eat at your life until the only left to do is to finish living. Learn from my father, the one you all looked up to and control your own life.” Charlotte had tears running down her cheeks now as sobs were stifled all up and down the rows and benches. The ferocity left her eyes, they softened.

“I loved my Daddy, I really, really did. I always will. I- I-I…” Sh trailed off, her sobs ripping out of her throat so harshly that a middle aged woman had to stand and help Charlotte back to her seat, still whimpering.

The rest of the funeral went by much as you’d expect. Several people made eulogies, telling how he found their puppy after 12 hours searching or how he had taught them at the elementary school several years ago.

I couldn’t help but hear Charlotte’s words over and over. He made mistakes, ones that he punished himself for. Could it be possible that my mother’s death had this huge an impact on Anthony Flenning as it did on me? It was so hard to try to contain everything that was welling inside of me; I had never felt so full of emotion.

The funeral ended with a few quieter, choked cries. So, I left. I walked out of the church slowly, staring at the ground. It had been raining the night before and been freezing this morning so the frost cracked underneath my small boots. The thin tights and sleeveless black dress doing nothing to quell the wind racing through me. A shivered cry burst from my cracked lips as I pulled my arms around myself and began to walk away from the church, to go home and make sense of everything I was feeling.

“Wait, excuse me.” I spun around to see Charlotte running after me. Her wavy hair and red cheeks beaming from her tired looking face.

“Sorry, I…” She began, stopping to think for a moment before continuing. “You were crying so much in there. I don’t remember ever having met you but my father obviously meant a great deal. It means a lot. Are you coming to the wake?” She questioned, her eyes shining with tears that had been falling for the past few days.

“I can’t go to the wake, Im sorry. I have to go back to school.” I lied. I wouldn’t be going anywhere but home.

“Oh, ok then. How did you know him?” She asked, running a tired hand through her hair.

“Ummm, well he taught me in Primary school.” I lied. I saw her face soften in belief and she nodded. “He was there when my mother died. I went through a pretty tough time and he was a part of that.” I said, willing myself not to cry.

I just looked the daughter of a dead man in the face and said such spiteful things that made me want to take them back immediately. The thing that truly struck me was that I no longer held the anger behind them.

When had I forgiven Anthony Flenning for the things he did to my life?

Because as I looked his daughter in the eyes, all I felt was relief and pain and pure exaughsten and I didn’t know how to sort this out. No one ever told me the proper ediquite in this type of situation, how to respond to the big brown eyes that had just lost what I had lost and wanted to know why I cared for the man that killed my mother.

Everything was so strong; everything was so harsh, so tight.

The air want breathable, my shoes made pain shoot up my legs and my stomach spread lines of fire through my arms.

“Ok, well, it was nice to meet you…” She said waiting for my answer.

“Lillian, my name is Lillian.” I said with a smile. I turned and walked from the church. The tears burning down my cold cheeks. I walked home, not even considering that I should be in school and not at a man I didn’t knows funeral.

I walked in the door, sat in the hallway and I cried.

I cried and cried and cried.