Wait, That's What Happened? ✔️

2| Treble

Past Hannah's POV 

"Today we have all met together to honour the life of Micheal Dubois."

I sat down in my chair and listened to people speak about how my brother had impacted their lives and how he was so talented with his music nonsense.

All of them were liars. They didn't care about Micheal being gone, they cared about his talent being gone. Who was there to make the family name look pretty? No one, the only person that made the Duboises look good was Micheal. Aunty Emma's kids weren't going to succeed at anything. They were too busy finding a new girlfriend or boyfriend every week, my mother's kids were grandma's last hope.

"What a sweet child he was," Aunty Emma sighed as she sat down next to me, "What a shame. He could've gone so far."

He could've gone so far? Is that all these people cared about? Did they not care about the fact that my actual brother was dead? Were they all heartless?

"You may approach the casket."

My mother got up and turned to look at me, "Hannah, you're not coming?"

"They didn't even find his body, I'd literally be approaching air. The only people going up are the ones who are praying for him to be reborn as their next child or something."

"Hannah! Don't say stuff like that, it's rude."

"You know what is rude? The fact that literally no one cares that my brother is dead! They only care about what he succeeded at, not him himself!"

"Hannah, you're causing a scene."

"I hope I am!" I exclaimed as I ran outside.

After a few minutes of putting myself in timeout, I felt bad for ruining my brother's funeral. Well, he wasn't even there but I guess he was in spirit.

It was snowing pretty heavily so the snow collected on my eyes as I looked up. My brother had always loved the snow so I couldn't help but think that he was near.

When we were younger, we would go on our scooters together. I could remember us going downhill one day and my brother crashed into a tree, leaving a scar on his shin. The scar had always bothered him for some reason but I guess I wouldn't be too happy with a permanent scar on my leg.

"Hannah, are you coming back inside anytime soon?" My father hissed as creaked open the door, "Stop acting petulant, there's no need for you to seek attention at your brother's funeral."

"I'm not seeking attention," I mumbled, "I—"

Before I could say anything else, my father shushed me, "Please, Hannah. Mourn your brother peacefully with the rest of us."

No one understood me. They all thought I was just some troublemaker and that my opinion didn't matter. When I wanted to become an artist, my parents threw away my paint, colour pencils, and kneaded erasers. They said that my dreams weren't important and that my brothers were more important. Well, not exactly but that's what it felt like.

I opened the door and all eyes were on me. I smiled awkwardly as I nodded and sat back down.

Grandma was still looking sorrowfully at the casket, I could tell that something was on her mind.

"What's wrong, grandma?" I whispered, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, dear. Your brother is gone, how am I supposed to look happy right now?"

Her tone seemed passive aggressive. I slumped back into my chair and listened to some guy talk about how "life is precious!" And "Celebrate the fact that they lived versus the fact that they died!"