There's A Fallen Angel On My Roof...But Why Does He Have Fangs?

Part 27

****really sorry if this isn't good enough for the really long wait. Please let me know what you think of it****

There was something odd about losing a loved one. It doesn't seem real, it doesn't seem like they're actually gone. The insignificance they leave is enough to burn, and if you think about it, when someone dies there isn't a mark to show that they're gone. They just leave. And never come back. Only leaving behind a terrible pain in the ones that mourn them.

I'm in mourning. For my dad. My mum. My twin sister. And my little brother.

And Luca. Though we hadn't formed too strong a bond I felt like he was a part of me. We clicked from the beginning.

And now...They're all gone.

"Aid" my older brother calls quietly "wake up" I'm always awake now, awake but numb. But thankful too...I still have my brother Leo.

"What day is it?" I asked

"Sunday" he replied. "It's time to get ready" it had been a whole six days since everything, the fire the injuries, the death; the cursors attack left a mark on everyone's soul.

All this time I had been waiting for something to happen, during the six months before the attack I was convinced Luca and Cam had taken me here for nothing and that it was frivolous to even consider preparing me for something that wasn't coming.

I was stupid. It was the quiet before the storm.

We dressed in white for those who had been lost, for some reason they dress in white for mourning. I quietly showered and made my face up, to look presentable. Curled my hair and put on my white mourning dress, a simple knee length cotton silk dress with twisted shoulder straps and a golden belt. My brother took me by the shoulders and hugged me tight. We had both been in tears for the first few days after the attack. But now we were both empty shells. He handed me my white mourning cape and we headed off to the church.

Hundreds of students all in the same white cape were walking towards the church, ever since the attack we've had terrible snowstorms, today the snow was ankle deep. But none of us shivered. None of us felt the pain, we were all numb.

Once inside i was almost blinded by the stunning white of everything, our cloaks, the church itself, I understood why we wear white for funerals, it looks like we're in heaven. The coffins of those who died were all laid next to one another at the altar, there were so many of them...the church itself was immense in size, bigger than the whole campus, and their coffins, a matte black, looked minuscule against the large stain glass window of The Lord looking down, his face somber and eyes filled with empathy, there was no colour in this stain glass window, but each piece was carefully warped to reflect light in such a way that it looked like he was floating right there in front of you. And to think, six days ago, there were people breathing their last breaths under the watchful eye of the dear old lord himself.

We took our seats, my brother and I sat together behind the teachers row. From the other side of the hall, Owen looked over at me, a sad look overcame him and he pulled his lips into that beautiful ghost smile, only this time, it was a flaming spirit. It was genuine and beautiful, I tried my hardest to smile back in the same manor; but i just couldn't summon the emotions.

"My dear children" the priest began, his red ribbons contrasting with the stark white of the church and his robes. "I have prayed for the souls lost and spared. We all come together to pay our respects to the ones lost" a line of monks (all in white silk cloaks) entered with pictures of each person lost, they placed the pictures upon each coffin, I looked out for Luca's one. His was 999th from the left.

"Dear students" it was my headmasters turn to speak "we have all been greatly affected by the monstrous acts that occurred on Monday...but I want to take this moment to ask you all to take a look around and notice how many survived. And thank The Lord for that" the nerve they have to thank someone who let all this happen. Who do they think they are?