H&M

Chapter 3

" I only got you in my stories and you know I tell them right. I remember you and I when I'm awake at night."

Maya • • •

There was an abrupt knock at the door. My immediate thought was Mrs. Pierce but normally she wouldn't have the strength to produce such an authoritative knock. I slipped into the living room as the person knocked again.

"Hold up." I rolled my eyes.

I slowly open the door. An officer stood facing me. He looked about 6 feet, he had short dark hair and olive skin shined in the artificial light of the hallway, he looked uncomfortable.

"I didn't make a noise complaint." I blankly stated.

"Is this the home of Micah Arlington?" He asked glancing into my home. Micah was friendly with the cops in this area; they were all corrupt. Cops were the true masterminds behind the drug trade in my city, no one acknowledged it but everyone knew.

"Why?" I asked carefully.

"He passed away earlier on today." The police officer put simply. "I am so sorry."

My knees felt weak, a feeling that I've already felt twice before. I choked back tears.

"Do you know what happened?" I managed to choke out between sobs.

"He was shot by an officer, ma'am." He said slowly. "He tried to attack a law enforcement official."

By then my knees had given up, my body leaned against the doorframe. "Micah would never do that." I told him, almost pleading.

"I'm sorry ma'am." The policeman apologized again as if his words could somehow resurrect my brother.

"What happened to serve and protect? " I cried as tears spilled out of my eyes. I failed at my many attempts to catch my breath . "You're supposed to protect us." I said again, yelling. By then, several neighbors were outside to get a peak of the drama.

"Please, go back into your homes." He ordered each person. "Please, get back inside."

I gained the strength to stand on both feet.
"Thank you, officer." I said between deep breaths. This man didn't need me to make his night any worse than it already was. I closed the door. Reality slowly sunk in, making a home in my chest.

The last thing I said to Micah was "Yeah".
He apologized and I let my ego get in the way of me returning the apology. I walked towards the couch, barely able to keep my balance.

"I'm sorry." I whispered into the void. "I'm sorry that I said those horrible things to you, I'm sorry I didn't apologize when it mattered and I'm sorry I didn't say I love you when I had the chance to. "

" She ain't dead, shes more alive than we'll ever be." Mrs. Pierce seemed so sure of it.

You'd think after losing both parents I'd know a little more about taking people for granted, but I didn't. I took yet another person for granted and just like that they were snatched from me.

What was this sick game God was playing with me? Am I supposed to search for God in this time of darkness?

I let out a scream of frustration. I felt like I was going mentally insane. I spent the rest of the night flipping through an old photo album, reminiscing. I half-expected Micah to walk through the front door and laugh about the sick prank he pulled on me.

I laid on that couch for a week, never leaving my home. I learned more about his death via social media, primarily Twitter. His whole existence had been reduced to a mere hashtag. Videos of his death went viral within days, I refused to watch them. He was just another case of police brutality to these people. I missed the last few days of school, work, and even graduation (I later received my diploma through the mail). It was already a week after his death, the day of his funeral; I wasn't sure who organized it.

I left my home in a hurry, already late to my own brothers funeral. I sped to the cemetery just barely making it. Aunts and uncles that I hadn't seen in ages, all there for Micah. An hour or so into the service I was called to say a few words, they weren't ready for what I had in store for them. I made my way to the podium, and glanced back at Micah's closed casket.

"It's really cool to see my whole family here." I started off slowly as they all nodded.

"I haven't seen you guys since the last death in my life." Dead silence, literally. "As you all know, our father died in Afghanistan. His funeral was just like this one. The same crowd, same people. But after the funeral everyone went home, seemingly forgetting about the wife and children he left. In your hearts you attended his funeral, therefore you could wash your hands of him altogether. His army buddies helped Micah, Mom and I more than you all ever did." I paused as I felt my eyes sting. "Almost a decade after that, our mother dies of Ovarian Cancer, for those who need to be reminded. And at her funeral was the same crowd, same people crying for her. The same people who bailed after my father passed away. After her death, you all bailed for a second time. It's like some sick cycle. Micah and I needed you after our mother's death. We begged a few of you for money and even a place to stay. So many doors were slammed in our faces, doors that seemed to be wide open at our mother's funeral. Now you're here. Why? Because its routine. Someone dies and you attend their funeral so you feel content with yourself, completely ignoring who or what they leave behind. I won't let that happen. I won't let you guys feel good about yourselves, because we don't need you right now. We needed you when we were starving, we needed you when we were homeless, we needed you when our mother was dying and couldn't pay for chemo. We don't need you now. Micah and I are just fine." I said as tears raced down my cheeks. I looked each of them in the eye, before I stepped from behind podium and walked towards the parking lot.

Goodbye Micah..

I'm sure Micah, Mom, and Dad would've been proud.

" So give it up for fallen glory, I never got to say goodbye. I wish I could ask for just a bit more time.." -Lukas Graham (You're Not There)