The Royal Heir - Dancing with my eyes closed

Gone

It's so dark outside.

And I know that's to be expected, because it's December now, and it's well into the afternoon. But I don't remember any of this darkness last winter. I guess I better get used to it, because I've got a feeling it's going to hang around for a while. It's almost like the darkness, and the coldness that goes with it (because oh man, is it cold out there today) is symbolic with what's happened, what's happening right now, and how life is gonna be from now on.

Now I can hear the rain start to patter on the roof of the building, and I know my theory's spot on. It's like the sky's crying, and it's all dressed in black, just like I am, just like everyone in here is (except for Olivia, who's wearing red, but has the most amazing veil across her face, Jen would've totally approved of how she's rocking the mourning look). It's as if the whole universe is grieving for the loss of the brightest light that ever shined within it.

"Maxwell. It's time."

I hear Bertrand's voice, and I feel his hand on my arm. I look up to my right for a moment, and I hate seeing so much sadness in his eyes. He's grieving too. We all are. There's something deep within me that wants to try and cheer him up, to say something silly to put a smile on his face. But it's so deep within me, it's buried beneath so many layers of pain and guilt and shame and despair, and to be honest, I wasn't even sure if it was still there for a few days after everything happened. I found it, crushed and bruised, but still there, when I started figuring out what I was going to say today. But I'm not sure I can get to it right now.

There's another hand on my left arm now, and a soft, reassuring female voice speaks into my ear. "Are you sure you're okay to do this? Do you want me to come up with you?"

I turn to acknowledge Hana's supportive smile. I don't know the answer to her first question. The second question I can answer though.

"No, you stay here."

And I go. I step forward, just a couple of steps. I can't see it, but I know everyone in this chapel is watching me intently. Those closest to me, with understandable concern. Others, more through a morbid curiosity, to see how I'm coping. If I'm coping. Well of course I'm coping, because what's the alternative? Crying, screaming, shutting myself in a room? None of those things are going to bring her back.

One more step, and I'm behind the lectern. I turn to face ahead. I don't look at the people in front of me, I just focus on the lectern. A copy of some of the stuff I'm going to say is already in front of me. I don't need it, in fact I don't even know exactly what I'm gonna say yet. But the celebrant insisted I sent something over to him, probably in case I don't make it through and someone else has to pick up for me. Because you see that in all the movies, don't you? The poor bereaved spouse, breaking down, unable to continue with the eulogy to the person they knew better than anyone else did. That's not gonna happen today though. Jen deserves better from me.

And inevitably, my eyes skip to my left, and she's there. Except she's not there. Okay, her beautiful, flowing curls are there, I'll never toy with them again when they tickle my face. Her green eyes are there too, they're closed now, they'll never open again. Her perfect, stunning body lies in that box, she's wearing the sparkly blue dress she wore to the lantern festival last autumn, she always said it was her favourite and it fits her today, as she hadn't really gained much weight during her pregnancy other than a baby bump. Her engagement ring and her wedding ring are in there, still on her finger. She wasn't wearing her twig ring when she died. It wasn't fitting right because she was swelling up in the later stages of her pregnancy. It's on my little finger now, and it's staying there forever.

All these things are there. She's not. She's gone.

And it's all my fault.

I close my eyes for a moment, hoping that when I open them again I'll wake from this nightmare.