Forever Manoban (Jenlisa Adaptation)

Chapter 17

“So, I have nothing to hide, maybe you two should try it. Live a little Lisa, take that girl to bed and show her your sexiness.” I wanted to die right there, in the leather seat of Lisas range rover.

She unexpectedly shouted, “I already did and she was amazing, she made me do things to her that even shocked me.” I hit her on the arm and shot her a look.

“Woo, you go girl, we’ll swap notes when you get back. I have to go, Dr. Hottie is summoning me back to bed,” she giggled.

I hung up and shook my head at her, “How could you tell her that?”

“Oh please love, like you haven’t embarrassed me before.”

I couldn’t argue with that, especially with the bartender at the restaurant and then the bellhop. I laughed and looked out the window at the all too familiar place I was heading.

We pulled into the funeral home and instantly, my stomach felt sick. I got out of the car and took a deep breath.

“This is the same funeral home we had for my mother and father,” I said as I stood in front of it.

Lisa put her arm around me. “You don’t have to do this; you can call your cousin and tell her you got sick or something.”

“No, that’s the coward’s way out. I can’t escape reality. Besides, I have you with me.”

We walked through the doors. My cousin Yeri saw me and swiftly walked towards me as we hugged each other tight.

“I’m so sorry for your loss Yeri.”

She started to cry on my shoulder. “I know and I’m sorry for you to; I know they were like your surrogate parents growing up.”

“What happened?” She asked as she pointed to my stitches.

“It’s no big deal; I just fell and hit my head.”

I looked over at Lisa, “Yeri this is my friend Lisa.”

She shook her hand and then whispered to me, “I heard you and Kai broke up, I’m sorry.”

I smiled, “I’m not, but thank you anyway.”

She led us to the room where my aunt and uncle laid in their beautiful wooden caskets. I walked over and kneeled down in front of them, praying to god to keep them safe. Lisa stood behind me with her hands clutching my shoulders. I stood up and made my way through the crowd, saying hi to old friends and making small conversation with distant family. I could hear the whispers of people talking about my attempted suicide seven years ago. I could hear the pity in their voices. The whispers went on about my dad; how he was an alcoholic and couldn’t stop drinking enough to raise his only daughter. They went on to say that if my mother was alive I would not have tried to take my life. I had become the center of attention at someone’s funeral, and I was starting to get pissed. Lisa overheard the soft talks as she put her arm around me.

“Don’t listen to them; they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I took in a deep breath, but couldn’t control myself any longer when I heard a woman say, “She’s the one who tried to commit suicide to save herself from her alcoholic father. He was too wrapped up in the death of her mother to even realize she existed. She should have been taken away from him and then she wouldn’t have tried to…”

Before she could finish her sentence, I rudely interrupted her, “Who the fuck do you think you are talking about my father and family like that?”

I pushed my wrists in her face, “Here, see the scars. That’s right, take a good look at them, it wouldn’t have mattered if they took me away or not, they would still be there.”