Summer Camp

Chapter Fifty Four

  Everyone welcome to my funeral
Everyone I know better be wasted
You know I would pour one up
Cause the way I lived, it was amazing
Uh-uh-uh
All of my friends are in the room
Uh-uh-uh
Party for me - I'd party too

~Lukas Graham, Funeral

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**Seth's POV**

I thought about a lot of things. I thought about things that might happen, like adopting a kitten, or my weeding day. Sometimes I thought about our town being killed by alliens, or being invaded by the south, but I never expected this. 

In my short 15 year of life I didn't expect to be sitting here, in a church, crying my eyes out in front of hundreds of strangers. I thought about sad things a lot, but this was something that I thought couldn't happen, I didn't think it was possible.

The first funeral that I expected to go to was my grandma's, she was old, 92 to be exact, but here she was sitting by me, not knowing what was happening.

Strangers would come over and hug me, or pat my back, whispering apologizes that they knew wouldn't help. But few of them would ever feel the pain that I ever felt.

My mom looked over at me worried as she stood with most of my family members talking to the people here, or just hugging them. 

My mom and dad were teary, but they were obviously taking it better than me. 

Somewhere was a little girl, and her older sister, and no one knew if they were dead of alive. The police said that most of the girls had to be dead, because they couldn't just dissapeare of the face of the planet, and bags of human blood were found, claiming that there were 30 dead people.

 I couldn't imagine my dead sister on a pile of dead forgotten bodies, but then again, I never imagined them gone in the first place. 

An elderly man sat next to me for a moment, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he told me, a tear on his own cheek. I didn't know him, and I didn't care. I stood up, letting his arm fall off of me, and walked to the bathroom. I locked the stall, and looked at myself.

I saw a depressed little boy in a suit, with red rings around his eyes, and desperation covering his face. I saw the face of a boy, who was abandoned by family, or who was left alone. I was the boy in the crowd with a tragic story.  

I left the bathroom when someone knocked, and walked back to the pew I had been in. Once I sat down, my mother moved beside me.

"I'm sorry hun," she said, wrapping her arms around me, "I'm so sorry. I wish that none of you had went to summer camp and that all of us had just gone on vacation together. I'm so so sorry."

My dad soon walked over, "It'll be okay."

I looked up at him angrily.

"What," I scremaed, drawing all the attention in the room. "What will be okay." I stood up and looked my dad in the eye. "My sisters are dead," I told him, "It's not okay, and don't you dare say it is."

"You're right," he said quitly, "It's not, and it won't be. But we need to move on."

I stared at him long, and angrily, before turning, and moving towards the exit. 

"Seth," my mom called.

I smashed into the door, and ran in the pouring rain.