Where Red Kites Fly

ONE

It was a beautifully clear day, but Maya felt like it shouldn't have been. It was January for crying out loud. The middle of winter never gives you days like this- especially not on a day like this. Really, she should have been grateful that she didn't have to carry a heavy black umbrella around all day, but any physical weight to bear would have been preferred over the gnawing aching sensation that sat in her heart and stomach since what felt like forever. It felt like forever, but she could remember it as if it was yesterday. She wished it was yesterday. She just really needed another day.

Another day, Maya? What about another minute, or even second? You couldn't manage that?

Mrs. Carey stood with her back ramrod straight, listening to what Reverend Dosend was saying. Mr. Carey stood by her side, even straighter as if he was back in the army waiting for drill orders. His face was stone, an impasse of blank emotion, but it was the tight, vice-like grip he held on to his cane with that gave his pain away. He just looked so... withered. Maya felt her heart constrict for them. No parent should bury their child.

Maya had been to funerals before. Some expected and some unexpected, not that the differentiation made any of them hurt any less. She supposed she should have been used to them by now, but she could never shake the feeling that parts of her were dying along with the people she'd lost along the way. Like she was burying a part of herself with them. Today she was sure she was lowering the rest of heart into the ground. Rich, waxed, sand polished oak. A beautiful wood that gave off hints of dark orange when the sun caught the coffin right.

Just like his hair.

Issachar, David, Cameron, Byron, and Angelo were all standing and staring at the ground as if it would somehow change everything. They all looked so grown up in their suits, Maya thought. In reality, she knew grief aged faster than time. She knew it killed faster too. As Reverend Dosend finished speaking, they all moved to lower the coffin down. Angelo's hands were shaking.

THUD.

Maya gripped the roses she'd been holding for them even tighter at that sound. That final, final sound. The guys came over to take a rose each. Cameron had tears in his eyes. Byron was tight lipped and tense. David's shoulders were hunched. Angelo's hands were still shaking. Two roses left. One for Issachar and one for her. As he started to take a rose, Issachar stopped suddenly and grabbed her wrist. He was staring at the two roses intently. Maya looked up at him confused before looking down at their hands. Then she saw the blood. She didn't register that the thorns must have dug into her skin as she was holding them. She looked back up at Issachar and saw a pain which mirrored her own. Quickly, she handed him the last rose and brushed past him to join Mr and Mrs. Carey and everyone else.

A bowl of dirt and spare roses were passed round and everyone took a handful out of it. Just as it reached her, Issachar touched her arm, and shook his head. She took another rose. A white one to contrast the red- a balm to cover the blood.

Mr. and Mrs. Carey went first.

THUD.

Then Maya and Angelo's parents.

THUD.

THUD.

The rest of the mourners followed, throwing heavy handfuls of dirt or letting delicate roses fall from their fingers. Each recurring thud beat at a hollow ache inside of Maya as if reminding her that the emptiness was here to stay. Finally, all the mourners stepped back and Mr. Carey picked up a shovel from a pile at the top of the hole. His face was a forced mask of calm. He stuck the shovel into the large pile of dirt and lifted it up, held it steady as he shifted towards his son's grave. Maya felt something wet fall onto her hands. She looked up at the sky in confusion before realising it wasn't rain. She was crying onto the roses she still held tight to her chest, the stems stained with blood. Mrs. Carey let out a strangled sound somewhere between a wail and a sob. Maya's mother put her arms around her and Mrs. Carey sagged into her weeping and broken.

THUD.

Mr. Carey had finally let the first shovelful of dirt drop. That's when Maya knew there was still a part of her heart left. She knew because it was the most painful part of herself to lose and it was ripping itself out of her chest. It clawed with jagged nails not caring for scars it left. It was desperate to jump in that grave with Owen and damn the grieving girl he left behind. As other family members and the boys took up more shovels, Maya couldn't take it any longer. She turned sharply and walked away leaving them to bury the dead boy and with him the last of her hope.

Hey guys, thank you so much for giving this first chapter a go! What do you think? It's a bit of bleak start but that does set the bar for the how happy this story is going to be. I don't know if it'll ever get better but we just have to keep going.

I'll post another update soon. I want to see what kind of feedback I'm getting before I can decide a set schedule. While I'm off for summer I'm going to do as much writing as I can!

Thank you again, I already love you all :)