Vendetta

1: He is water.

AELLA
September
~~~~~

"Axel was a very bright and strong young man. He was a leader..."

Aunt Eunice's voice faded out into the background. I could hardly focus on the people standing next to me. She was speaking about how much of a fantastic person my brother was, yet she barely spent time with him. She had never been to one of his games. She never showed up to his birthday parties. Never came to visit. Didn't even know his accomplishments. She hardly even called. She was never around.
So what the fuck could she possibly know about my brother? She just wanted the attention to be on her. With her fake tears. What an aunt she was.

I allowed my bloodshot eyes to roam my surroundings. My mother stood beside me, eyes brimming with tears, cheeks flushed, and soft hands shaking. And beside her, my father wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side, serving as a support system for his wife. He stood tall as my aunt spoke, staring down at my brother's casket. 

I watched his face.

My father was very reserved, never showing much emotion, and his demeanor was always stony.  But today, I could see the pain in his eyes, raw and deep. A deep frown was set between his brows, making him seem more human than ever. I could hardly remember a time when my father expressed his emotions. This was the first time I'd seen him so hurt.

I looked past my parents to the many, many people that stood surrounding the dark mahogany casket that my beloved brother lay in. I recognized a few. Only a few. Daniel caught my eye. Daniel was our cousin and Aunt Eunice's son. She lived in New York, but Daniel lived with his dad in Chicago. We grew up fairly close to each other in proximity and in relation. He was like another brother to me and I could tell this pained him. He stood hunched over with bags under his eyes and his hair unkempt.  He'd been growing it for about a year and usually kept it braided or twisted neatly.  Today, he wore it out, his thick coils knotted and dry-looking.

Everyone was crying, sad, and hurt...except for me...

Of course, I was sad, but I was also angry. Someone had killed my brother. There still haven't been any suspects. No one has come forward. The investigation is barely making any breakthroughs. It killed me not knowing who did this to him. Who took my brother's life? Someone took him away from me, and they are still out there.

I would find them, and I would tear them apart limb by limb and bathe in their blood, pain, and sorrow. 

When they finally began to lower his casket, I stayed behind as everyone began dispersing, going home to be with their complete families, where they could talk about how much they pitied the Amors as they watched a movie on their couches. In my hands I clutched a rose, the thorns pinching at my fingertips.

"Aella, we will be leaving soon," my mother said softly, raspy from her crying. I glanced at her. Her usually unwrinkled and carefree face was etched with deep worry lines and streaked with tear stains. Her eyes had deep, dark bags under them. She stepped towards me, lightly touching my arm. "are you sure you want Parks to drive you home?" She asked, worried. Now that my brother was gone, killed by an unknown someone, Mama has been worried about me going off and doing things alone. But she didn't need to worry. I could handle my own, and Parks has been our chauffeur since forever. I'm sure if I ever needed him, he'd be close.

"Yes," My voice was raspy-just barely above a whisper. The wind ruffled my hair and shook the treetops. I watched as the dirt filled the hole my brother lay in. "I just...need some time to think. To be alone," I say,

I needed more time with him...

This wasn't enough...

She opened her mouth to say more, but my father cut in. "Elenore," His hand lightly pressed onto her shoulder, and he ushered her away. "Let her be," I heard him say as they approached one of the black cars.

Who could have done this? Who could have wanted my brother dead?

"I will find out who did this," I promise to my brother's spirit.

And to myself.

I dropped a single blood-red  rose on the pile of dirt that sat atop my brothers grave and turned to leave, swiping my hand across my face. I rubbed my fingertips together, feeling the slickness of my warm tears and a bit of blood mixed in between them.  I made my way slowly to the car. Parks stood by the opened door for me, dressed in a crisp black suit. He had long dark hair tied in a man bun at the nape of his neck. Tattoos peeked from the collar and sleeve of his white dress shirt. Parks had a dangerous look about him, but his heart was so kind.

He wore a somber expression on his face. His grey eyes were sad. He held eye contact with me as I approached the car.

Parks wasn't old...around the same age as my father. They had attended the same high school and eventually built a friendship. Parks was like an uncle to me at this point.

"Ms. Aella..." His voice was gravelly with what couldn't only be described as sadness...I knew what he was saying without him saying it. I thanked him with a nod before I slid into the backseat.

He followed suit-grunting a bit as he settled into the drivers seat. Before he pulled off, he handed me a handkerchief, his eyes watching me through the rearview mirror. I nodded a thanks and swiped under my eyes quickly.

A small streak of blood stained the pure white.

Song: Too Late To Die Young-Sonder