Break Me // ONC 2022

CHAPTER FOUR

The funeral home is packed. Mr. Garver was a well-liked man. A mixture of floral and incense burn my nose as I enter the rectangular shaped room. It's a big enough room to have a dividing door in the center. Tonight, it's open wide allowing a bigger space for the crowd. People are scattered about, some in the rows of chairs at the front. His wife is up there with his son and daughter. They go to a different high school, but I recognize them from a few events around town.

Chairs, couches, and wall space is all taken up by guests lingering about. The casket sits at the front propped open for all to see. An older gentleman kneels in front of it, his head bent in prayer.

"Hey." I turn at the sound of Trish's voice.

I wrap my arms around her in a hug. "Hey."

"How are you holding up?"

"Okay. I reached out to Gena's parents, they told me they would let me know when they are holding services."

She sighs, shaking her head, and narrowing in on the coffin.

"Wow. This is crazy, huh? I mean so many people. The entire place is booked."

I can only nod, my eyes focusing on the coffin at the front. A chill makes my shoulders tremble and as I glance over my shoulder, I catch sight of Jaime. He's so tall his head nearly hits the low entryway. Trish notices my attention has been compromised. Grinning, she nudges me.

"He's so delicious," she whispers through gritted teeth.

I have to cover my mouth to suppress a giggle. It's not the time or place for that.

"What? Don't act like you don't find him attractive. Plus, you had your meet cute already."

"Oh God, Trish, do you actually hear yourself right now?"

Even though we are in the midst of tragic events, I find her antics, and the smile forming on my lips to be comforting. Her soft laughter fills me with a joy I didn't know I was missing.

"He's coming," she says. "His eyes are on you."

"Oh-my-god, stop."

"Ladies." His low grumble hits me as I lean into her.

Biting her lip to suppress her smile, she glances up at him. "Jaime, glad you could make it."

He nods at her, then moves his attention onto me. "Nore."

"Jaime."

Trish's brows scrunch together as she glares at me. I'd hit her if we weren't in public. Jaime smirks down at us, but then lifts his focus to the front of the room and I swear he curses under his breath.

My eyes follow his. Standing beside the casket is a man. No one is looking or talking to him, he's just there watching. I can't see his face, he's turned on an angle, so the only view I have is his profile. Glancing up at Jaime I notice his hands balled into fists at his side.

I take a step forward not because I'm going anywhere, but so I can step out of his reach. The moment I do a hand grazes my back and I swear he balls my black sweater in his hand and tugs me back, but when I check his hands are back at his sides.

The man is still there, but now that I see him fully, the red eyes, the set jaw, the way he moves through the crowd as if he's searching for something. It's one of them. Whatever it is. Immediately I'm brought back to the folktales I was told, is he - could he be a nightwalker? But if so, why do I see them when it's light? Why me? His eyes meet mine and my body seizes. My hands go stiff, and there's a whirling sound in my ear. I swallow hard, the bitter cold finding me again. I feel like I did that day I passed out.

"Come on. Let's get you some air." His voice is smooth like silk.

Before I can react, he's wrapped his arm around my back, and is ushering me away from Trish. She wiggles her fingers at me like she's convinced he's dragging me away to find a spot to make out in a closet. Fear courses through my veins. I want to scream out for him to wait, we can't leave Trish in there with whatever that is, but I don't even get to as we cross the threshold of the doorway.

"Um - I need to go to the bathroom."

"I can't catch you if you pass out there. The night air will do you some good."

I pull from his grasp. "I'm going to the bathroom."

He backs away. I stumble into the bathroom nearly passing out and hitting my head on the porcelain sink. The coolness of the counter keeps me from doing so, and I have to remember to take deep breaths.

Spinel's. Nightwalkers. Immortality. Deaths. Young and old. I breathe out and mist as if I were outside forms. I stumble backwards into the peach tiled wall behind me, and stare at myself in the mirror. My face is abnormally pale on most days, but even my lips are pale now. I grasp the wall with everything I've got when the door to the restroom flies open. Marie comes walking through. At first, she doesn't notice me, her hands are in her purse digging for something.

"Marie."

She gasps when she hears my voice and lifts her gaze.

"Oh, it's only you." She struggles to take a breath.

"Everything okay?" I ask, wondering if maybe she saw what I did.

"Oh, yeah. Of course, I leave the house without a tampon. I mean seriously. I never imagined starting my damn period at a funeral."

I can't help the laughter that tumbles from my lips. The misty fog is gone, and my body temperature feels normal again.

"I think I can help."

I adjust the bag on my shoulder and shuffle through the mess inside, pulling out exactly what she needs.

"Life saver. Thank you."

She's about to go into the stall, but I call out. "Marie."

"Yeah?" she turns, her ginger curls bouncing as she does.

"Um - was Charlie okay? Did you send him home?"

Her lip tugs upward in a sad smile. "Yeah. We talked. I think he'll be okay. He's coming to see me on Monday, and I spoke with his parents. He'd planned to ask her to be his girlfriend. I never thought I'd see the day that Charlie Walsh walked down the hallway with one girl in his arms rather than multiple."

It's the truth, I chuckle at that. "Me too."

"I'm glad you sent him to me. Sorry about Gena."

We part ways and when I open the bathroom door Jaime's eyes flicker in the direction. He pushes himself off the olive-green wall and walks over.

"Ready to go back in?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Let's go."

It's weird. It feels like he knew something was off, just like he knew that day in the hallway when he caught me. I can't help thinking that maybe he sees them too. How can I ask if I can't say anything? How can he? Maybe he feels it too, the struggle to tell someone, but not be able to.

"You coming?" he asks, stopping when I don't follow.

"Yeah," I whisper.

He waits for me to fall in line with him, then we walk back into the room together. It's void of anyone with red eyes, only friendly ones. Thank God for that.