Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Nine

The song above is Charlie's funeral song, 'Wind Beneath My Wings', Bette Midler.

*_*_*_*_*

The sun shone brightly through the blinds of the bathroom, annoying me more than the pesky alarm clock that would have been ringing if I was in my bedroom. But I wasn't. Instead, I woke to the view and fumes of vomit that was surfacing both my top and the toilet seat, evidence that I had obviously drunk slightly too much last night. If the vomit wasn't enough of a sign, then the homicidal headache was.

I didn't stand until another at least ten minutes, not having it within me to stay awake. Evidently, drinking alcohol the night before a funeral wasn't the best of ideas. But it was necessary.

I didn't hesitate to strip down and shower, straight after getting up, wanting to rid myself of any indication of last night. When in the shower, letter the water soak the tangles in my wild hair, and scour away the days of being unproductive, I remembered, quite violently, what today was; what was happening today.

The funeral.

I felt my stomach and heart drop in sync, while a feeling of complete dread washed over me like the water droplets I was submerged in. Was it because Charlie would be buried today, meaning I wouldn't be allowed to see him anymore, that had me in a panic? Or how I would have to go through the day, wishing that I could be anywhere else but there? Or even the amount of effort it would take to not break down in front of everybody?

I didn't know, but I was sure it had something to do with not being able to see Charlie again after today.

After hopping out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel, hunting for my pajamas that I could tramp around in, and digging out headache tablets, I switched on my phone, that had been charging, and simultaneously checked the time while I selecting Mom to text.

She said that she would stay in contact until she arrived, and seeing that she would have at least left Jacksonville, with five hours until everyone was supposed to arrive, I typed a quick text.

Is everything going okay? I said vaguely, pinning up my hair while it sent as the water droplets dripped onto my top, seeping into the fabric until uncomfortably touching my skin. I didn't expect her to reply so speedily, but after only three minutes I was notified that there was a reply.

Everything is going fine. We are just landing in Seattle airport, we'll then get a plane to Port Angeles and a rental car to you. Two hours, that's all. Don't worry baby, we'll be fine! How are you holding up?

I'm alright. See you in a little while, everyone is supposed to be here at 2. I love you and be careful. I replied back instantly, unlike my mom, I was more experienced with the technology, and able to text back at least double her speed.

Okay sweetheart. I love you too, see you in a bit. Xx

Cautiously, I then retreated downstairs, not liking the quietness of the house which was somehow different to when Charlie would go to work early. It may have been because I knew my dad wouldn't return home, and today it would making that official.

Admittedly, I blew out a breath of relief when I saw the house was empty, as I was convinced that, childishly, there would be someone downstairs. That was why I didn't let my guard down, making me repeatedly look behind my shoulder as I entered the kitchen for a coffee and something to eat.

After a strong coffee, which I could only wince at, and a large bowl of cereal, something I forced down, I jogged upstairs to start getting ready, although I had at least four and a half hours left. I knew that making myself presentable would be more of a project that I couldn't be bothered to do, so I stalled by cleaning the toilet and throwing my dirty clothes that were vomit infested, into the bath- where I would have to clean them later.