Lennon.
Seven days, three hours, thirty four minutes, fifty seven seconds. Seven days, three hours, thirty four minutes, fifty eight seconds. Seven days, three hours, thirty four minutes, fifty nine seconds. Seven days, three hours, thirty five minutes, zero seconds.
I was numb to the extent I had been keeping a detailed time diary of how long I had been in the same house, doing the same thing, which was actually doing nothing. I was bored and underwhelmed.
As much as I wanted to leave the house and experience even the slightest bit of the real world, this wasn’t the way I intended. A week since the fatality at the bakery and there was still no sign or news of Floyd and his whereabouts. But today was the day Nia would be laid to rest.
Harry was resilient to go down the whole funeral line of things, but I wasn’t going to take no for answer. I wasn’t about to let her go in an undignified way, her death was already enough as it was. Nia had been the only girl friend I could talk to, confide with and relate to and she was ripped away cruelly and undeservedly.
I didn’t know the in between stages of what happened with Nia’s body, I wasn’t allowed to know. There was no deciding which church it would be at, no choosing a priest and no after remembrance get together.
I continued to pull up my tights underneath my dress as Harry walked into the room, attempting to do up his tie. We had barely spoken recently, in fact I felt isolated within the walls of the mansion. No one would talk to me and when they did it was either to tell me when dinner was or that there would be visitors and I needed to stay in my room.
Perrie and El were practically non-existent. I could hear them and I saw them at meal times but they wouldn’t make eye contact with me, let alone start a conversation. I felt alienated and alone. I spent most of the week lying on the bed, texting Dom whenever he wasn’t busy.
I had no idea what I had done wrong, it was almost as if I had scared everyone away. I wanted to talk to Paul about it, but he either too busy or never in, typical. Trying to talk to Harry was like trying to talk to a brick wall. I had managed to converse with him two days ago to arrange the funeral, much to his displeasure. There was only the two of us and Paul attending - no one else knew her, in fact neither did they but Paul was going for ‘security’ reasons.
They were both adamant about it but they could suck it up for half a day, it wasn’t going to kill them.
“You’re doing it wrong.” I spoke at Harry but still fiddling with my tights and shoes. My tights had somehow managed to turn themselves around and the toe seam was completely off and every girl knows how uncomfortable that is.
The only response I got was a grunt and the sound of his tie hitting the bed. I rolled my eyes at his pettiness and walked up to him, picking up the discarded tie on the way. He watched me with such intensity that his eyes seemed like they were seeing right through.
I wrapped the material back around his neck and tied it correctly on the first try. “Around and then through.” I mumbled walking back towards the dresser leaving him to tighten it himself. I didn’t get a thank you, but I wasn’t expecting one.
We drove to the church in silence. No music, no radio and no conversation. I would stare at the side of his face as he drove, wondering if I could break him but failed. He could probably sense what I was doing it and managed to blank me out.
I’d never been to a funeral before so I had no idea what to expect, what to do or what to say. I had prepared a speech but it was diabolical, I didn’t want to put my name to it. Instead I decided I was going to open my mouth and let everything flow out at its own will.
