My Little Decoy

♪ That's What You Get ♪ {38}

"That's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa.
Now I can't trust myself with anything but this,
And that's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa." -That's What You Get

--

The rain poured down in torrents, shattering against the ground in deafening noise against the solemnity of the event. Dressed in all black, every person in attendence blended into the dreary afternoon as the gray of the sky and the silver flashes of water hitting the grass were the only sense of color. I found it funny how it tended to rain during funerals; how in that very moment when soul leaves body, it's as if the rain came to wash it away.

Standing underneath a black umbrella held by a shaky hand, I couldn't tell which were tears and which were raindrops on my face. Marco stood closely beside me, his free arm not holding up the umbrella wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I could hear him hiccuping as he stifled sobs; the pastor stood by the coffin, his monotonous voice lost in the wind and rain.

I tried not to think of who was in the coffin, as the block of wood sheltered her body from the precipitation. Yet the images came anyway: the paleness of my mother's skin, the glazed look in her eyes, the coldness of her skin.

She was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

"Mom," I whispered brokenly, until something stirred in my heart and I couldn't hold it in anymore. The numbness that had overtook my body since the beginning of the procession dripped away until the searing pain of grief took its place. "Mom." I said again, my voice louder. It kept growing and growing, until my please became screams and I couldn't stop them.

"Mom!" I screamed, and the pastor's words drifted off. The crowd of people my mother was acquainted with stared with bloodshot eyes. I screamed and writhed, shoving Marco away and sprinting to the black coffin just behind the pastor.

Immediately I was drenched with the rain, as a round of thunder echoed in the distance. I was sobbing now, feeling as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest. My hair clung to my neck, and the black dress I was shoved in clung to my body. My flats were lost in the mud as I didn't stop running. When I got to the coffin, I hugged the box tightly, eyes squeezed shut as I sobbed. "Mom," I croaked out. "Mom, come back."

Rain was always symbolic, I discovered, because it always seemed to occur in the darkest of times.

Even now, I was in the calm before the storm. Little did I realize the worst was yet to come.

A rather large splash of water hitting my face had me bolting upright with wide eyes. I sputtered and coughed, glancing around like a wild animal. It took a bit for my sleep-blurred eyes to adjust to my surroundings, where I realized I was in my bunk in the tour bus. I was okay. It was all a dream.

With a sigh, I wiped at my face, frowning at the water sticking to my tank top. Glancing up, I saw Drake with an empty bottle of water, his expression impassive.

"Drake," I groaned out, my voice husky from sleep. "What the hell-"

"Go outside," he ordered, still looking as if I had killed a man. "Now."

I frowned, pushing the blanket off my body and grabbing a jacket from the rack. I was about to question the guitarist but he had already spun around to leave without even waiting. That was odd. Even for Drake. I stopped by the bathroom and stole a towel, wiping off my face before throwing the towel off to the side and making my way towards the exit, still in my pajamas.

I knew as soon as I took a step off the bus that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. And something told me it had to do with the fiery redhead standing beside my bandmates, her hands in her pockets and her expression smug.