Using Marcel

Twelve

"Hey, Harry, how was band?" I asked the curly haired boy walking beside me in the school halls.

"It was okay, it was boring, but okay!" He said and made a face, making me giggle.

Suddenly, I was sitting on the swing on my front porch, reading 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. Edward came out of nowhere and stomped up the porch steps, his eyes flashing with anger.

"It happened again." He said, pacing back and forth.

"What... What did?" I stammered, closing the book.

"The bullying! These low lives thing they can just beat him down, and it's getting worse!" He exclaimed, his hands flying into the air.

"It's true, and it's getting out of hand." Marcel said, suddenly beside me on the swing, causing me to jump in surprise.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a church pew surrounded by persons in black, crying or sitting with blank emotions. I looked down to see that I was wearing a black dress and flats.

I looked up to the front of the sanctuary, to see an open casket.

God, no... Please...

A man in black stood up and walked over to the podium. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the life that my son, Harold Edward Styles, led." He choked out.

Now, I was standing next to the open casket, his motionless body laying there. His curly hair was laying all around his head as he lay there. His eyes were closed, but I knew that under those eyelids were bright green eyes that lit up my world, the thought bringing tears to my own. I took in every detail of his face- every blemish, scar, everything. Everything about him was so perfect, if never understand why people would tear someone down so badly that they would feel as if this was their only resort. He had on a dark grey suit, and I imagined him standing next to me, his bright smile lighting up this dim and depressing room.

Suddenly, Edward was standing next to me. He stared at his brother, tears falling that he would quickly wipe off. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. "I should've done something about this!" He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "I should've stopped them, stopped it. I should've and I could've! But now, it's too late!" He exclaimed and put a letter in the casket before he rushed over to the pew, burying his head in his hands.

Now, Marcel was next to me. Tears were streaming down his face and he collapsed to his knees, crying. His hands were balled up into fists, and he ran his hands own his face. I got down at his level, crouching, and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him as he was staring at the casket where his dead, lifeless triplet lay. He rose to his feel and ran his fingertips ever-so-gently across Harry's cold cheek.

"I'll miss you so much, Harry. I'll never forget you. I love you." Marcel cried and I stumbled over to the pew as they closed it, breaking down even more than before.

Through my tears, I saw Marcel from across the room, talking to me. It sounded like he was talking right into my ear even though he was so far away.

"Bella. Bella, wake up." He called.

What?

"Bella, wake up... W... Wake up."

My eyes snapped open and I sat up, looking at Marcel who looked at me with concerned eyes. I threw my arms around him and just clung to him, resting my head on his shoulder. Just being this close to him sent relief washing through me- a strange feeling.

"Bad dream?" He asked after a few minutes.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered. His jacket smelled like his brother's nice cologne, the kind that would drown you if that person put too much on, but it was perfect if you put just the right amount on, which Marcel had.