seven souls seven sins

chapter 82: final goodbye

Vincent's pov:

She stands there in all black. Her dark hair flowing in the back as the wind straddles it to the side. My Princess is dressed head to toe in a noir dress with a gaping hat and dark accessories. We all stand as the ceremony takes place beside a nearby grave. "We're invading her privacy." Chase bellows behind me.

All 6 of us flew in yesterday for business but it was really for our sister.

If she thought that we would let her go to another country unsupervised, she isn't the girl I thought she was. She isn't the girl I knew. This version is different, shes different. We pretend to sulk for another person's grave although we're only here for her. Everything I do is for her.

The pride and sunshine in my life has now seen the days of darkness.

The twins stand close behind me, getting a glimpse of their friend being in a casket. The funeral was earlier today but it was too personal to intrude on. Instead we opted for the burial, where we could remain disclosed and secret from the remaining world. "We should go V, out of respect." Adrien tugs at my shoulder behind me.

My gaze remains on the heartbroken girl who holds the hand of the dead.

My feet are bolted to the ground as I refuse to move. The tilt of her hat reveals her mourning face. The look of worry, concern and all the in between. All I can do is hope that she can plough through this. Acceptance is the final stage of grief, I just pray that she doesn't follow up on the 6th, or we'll both be done for.

There's no turning back from that.

Natasha's pov:

As the crisp February air blows in my face, my tears roll down the side of my cheek. "You're up." Mr.Olsen lets me up to the stand. We're mere minutes away from putting my best friend in the ground forever. I hate staring at his lifeless corpse. It physically pains me but I can't look away knowing that it's the last time I'll ever see him again.

The feeling of his cold icy hand trickling up my palm was worse than death itself, it was the feeling the lost opportunity at my fingertips.

Although his parents assured me many times that it wasn't my fault, deep down we all know it is. If I hadn't called him, if I hadn't asked him to join the mafia, if I ignored my old mentor when he first found me. All these possibilities could've prevented his death. People say experiencing guilt so the worst emotion to feel, although the real culprit is nostalgia.

It pries open all the forgotten memories allowing past emotions to seep through the cracks.

Flynn lays there unmoving. All the remaining colour drained from his face as the coroner dressed him in a black satin finish suit. He would've preferred navy, as that is his- was his favourite colour. I mentally correct myself. My use of the past tense is going to become more frequent than ever.

Another droplet seeps into my flushed skin.

I intertwine my warm hand with his and once I squeeze and he doesn't squeeze back, I let all emotions loose. I drape myself over the side of his wooden casket. Holding onto him as tight as I can, knowing that I won't get to do this ever again. I won't feel him ever again. I won't smell him ever again.