Dreamless in Early Graves (Vic Fuentes / Kellic) ✔️

Chapter 19: The Funeral

"Are you okay?" Mike asked me after parking the car in a lot near the cemetery.

I loosened my tie just slightly, not that it made breathing any easier. I still felt like I was being strangled. My hands were shaking, too. Part of me just wanted to leave, but I couldn't. I had a thing or two that needed to be said.

"There's so much wrong about this." I sighed, glancing out to the grass field that was littered with sad people dressed in all black and reporters everywhere. . . this whole thing made me so angry.

"Are you okay?" Mike repeated again.

I glared in my brother's direction. "I'd really appreciate it if you could just quit asking me that." I spat, annoyed.

Mike raised his hands defensively. "Fuck, sorry, I'm just concerned, alright?" He pointed out to me, an exasperated sigh causing me to come to my senses for a moment. I knew he meant well.

"I know, I'm sorry. . . I'm- I'm not okay, Mike, but. . . I have to be."

He gave me an apologetic look. "Do you want me to stick around?" He quietly asked me.

I shook my head. "No, and. . . I'll just get a cab home, or something. I think I'll be here for a while."

Mike nodded in understanding, giving my shoulder a light reassuring squeeze. "Alright, give them hell, bro."

I laughed a little, rolling my eyes at his motivational antics. My brother was a weirdo, but I loved him no matter what.

I took a deep breath and exited the car, making my way to where everyone else seemed to be going.

A sick feeling formed in my stomach when I arrived at the scene. Reporters were taking photos of the open casket. It was disgusting. I really wanted to just grab their cameras and shove them were the sun don't shine, but I couldn't do that.

At least no one seemed to be answering the reporters' questions about why Ana never told the world about her condition. Otherwise I probably really would've flipped shit. This was bad enough already.

The ceremony was exactly what I was expecting from a standard funeral; it was sad, cold, impersonal and didn't reflect at all what Ana wanted.

All of the people present were her friends, her family. . . and yet I only saw three faces that were mildly familiar. The rest of them I had never even seen during my time with Ana.

No one even stood up to make a speech in her memory. No one did. No one. . . but me.

While everyone sat in their seats, in front of the casket, some weeping and others just looking sad, I made my way to the small stage that stood behind the casket.

I cleared my throat, nervously wrapping my fingers around the small microphone, knowing that all eyes were on me. I looked up, taking a deep breath before I spoke. . .

"They say that death is not the end, because even after death, love goes on. And I guess that's true because. . . I still love Ana." I said, the words spilling from my lips as I smiled at the thought of her.

"Ana was an amazing person. . . I don't think anyone knew her the way I did. She had the strangest range of interests, let me tell you that. One day we could be attending this terrible theatre show, and the next day we'd be skydiving. She may have been dying, but she was more alive than anyone I had ever met in my life."

I glanced around the crowd of people, annoyance and hurt building at the mere sight of them. Her friends, her family. . . they were all a bunch of fakers, hypocrites. It made me so mad.