Fake Tales

Chapter 1- A lesson in Composure

Prologue:

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The scene playing out before my eyes was the definition of dangerous- I so didn't belong here. But I had to know for sure, that he had been the person I thought he was. A glimpse of something large, ugly and black caught my eye and I burst into action, barely thinking of the consequences. All eyes were on me, the element of surprise on my side. With all the strength I could muster I burst between the group- I became in lost in the muddle of people.

The sound ricocheted through the air, ringing in my ears. Cobalt eyes met mine, filled with pure, unadulterated terror. Pain shot through my torso, instantly my fingers flew to below my ribs, where warm, sticky liquid was seeping out uncontrollably. Scarlet blood coated my fingers. My knees gave way and the impact as they hit the cold ground jarred through my bones. Dark spots dotted across my vision and all I could hear was the hammering of my heart in my ears.

The pain seemed to bypass my focus: had I succeeded? My head moved around wildly, searching for him. Familiar arms encircled me, my mind registered the desperate calling of my name before everything went black.

Chapter 1- A lesson in Composure

7 months earlier

The bright shining of the sun in the sky made a mockery of us. It seemed to dare us to be happy, when I had never recalled feeling so utterly and irrevocably broken. I scurried down the aisle, my parents by my side, though to me they seemed transparent and unreal. Like they weren't really there at all. Mel turned in her seat and the pleading look in her eyes told me instantly she wanted me beside her. She was my best friend, we talked about everything and suddenly I had no idea what to say to her. Her brother had died and things would never be the same again. My brother wasn't dead, so I couldn't tell her I understood.

Marcus was very much alive, serving as a bitter reminder of what Greg was no longer here to experience. A part of me, a very small, insignificant part was thankful that he wasn't here. There was just no prediciting how Mel would react. I had noticed the look on her face whenever he was mentioned.

Words suddenly didn't seem enough; 'sorry' felt meaningless and my previous attempts at concoling her had been met with glazed eyes. I wanted to help her, but I was afraid that she would think I pitied her and she would pull away from me even more so than before. All this left me mute, stepping on unavoidable eggshells. This was how it had been from the first morning, when Greg hadn't returned home. Hope, once so alight in Mel had been extinguished slowly, leaving behind this hardened version.

The hustle and bustle in the small, already full church pulled me from my depressing reverie. Her long, thin fingers were cold as they clasped mine like a lifeline. A hand tapped my shoulder and I glanced round to see Dom and the rest of our friends sat behind me. Dom's hazel eyes were darkened with despair, more so than I had anticipated. His eyes glanced at Mel in a way that suggested he had been worrying about her and I shrugged to show I could think of nothing comforting to say. Turning around, I nudged her to try and convey that Dom and the rest of them were behind us, but she stared resolutely at the front. The priest stood before us, a practised look of sadness on his lined face.

"Good morning everyone on this sad day, today we put to rest a brother, son and friend of many...." He began. I could hardly hear him, I couldn't take in the words he was saying: he kept saying phrases like 'tragic' and 'terrible' and referencing the certainty of Greg's place in heaven. I focused on the constant, steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I yearned to escape the musty, unfriendly chapel and go somewhere else, but the polished wooden coffin prevented me. How else wa

Mel pulled free of my tight, clammy grasp as she stood up to speak. A heavy sense of foreboding fell over me, as I could feel my emotions stretch to breaking point. Without her presence, the dull ache I had felt since his death gave way to something much more painful. It felt like an open wound, throbbing and never ending.