Fault Line [Completed]

Chapter Three

I stood on the dew stained green grass with the girls on either side of me. Aunt Mallory stood to my right, a tissue in her hand. Aunt Melanie stood next to some other family members who I didn't know too well. Some of mom's friends came, but I didn't really pay any mind to them. I already had survived the wake, and boy, was that a challenge. People kept on coming and giving their sympathy, which I didn't want.

Look sad, Jane. Or they might suspect something. I didn't have to try too hard. A tear fell down my cheek, I didn't bother to wipe it away. I did not want to drop the girls' hands for something so insignificant.

My mother was laid in a white coffin, now closed. White roses covered the top of the white marble. Sniffs and sobs came from every direction; I was imagining that I was being strong for the girls, who barely understood the whole predicament.

The priest was off to the side, saying indistinct prayers. I didn't really listen to the words. My mind flashed back to the open casket during the wake. Aunt Mallory took us girls and Melanie early to the wake so that her closest family could have a moment of their own to her. I remembered studying my dead mother. Her dark brown hair perfectly curled and set over her shoulders. Her usual tan skin looked pale, almost clinging to her bones as it looked. Her hands were crossed over her abdomen, small and unmarked . . . no one would not even know what she hit with them.

When I was changing earlier, I looked in the mirror. The dress I picked out showed all of my arms. Arms which were covered in bruises from my now dead mother. I walked into Aunt Mallory's room, opening her closet and looking through her items before I found a long sleeved black cardigan. I shrugged it on and checked myself in the mirror again. I walked down to help the girls, Aunt Mallory noticed the cardigan right away. I had asked her if it was okay for me to borrow it and she nodded, smiling and watching us girls finish getting ready. I had even attempted to curl the girls' hair, it looked a little weird but that's what you get when you curl two five year old's hair.

Aunt Mallory had another fight with her husband when I was curling hair. It was loud and sounded bad. It went on for a good ten minutes before his loud gait stomped out the door and slammed it shut. Aunt Mallory disappeared into her room for half an hour, I didn't feel like disrupting her. She needed her space. Though I did say that if she wanted us to get there early she had five minutes to be ready. Of course, I said it nicer and more soft voiced. She was going through a lot. Those fights with her husband and the death of her close and beloved sister.

I was brought back to the present when the priest shut his book loudly and my mother's coffin was lowered into the ground. The cries of her loved ones grew louder. I forced more tears to fall, and some did, but not all. The girls watched the coffin go down, probably wondering where their mother was going. I would try explain it to them later. They could comfort Aunt Mallory again; I was too exhausted to worry about it.

I felt a brush of relief now that she was gone. But there was still something else. Like something bad was still going to happen. My mind flipped through images of my dead mother returning from the grave to drag me to the fiery depths of hell where we could live through eternity together. That thought alone made my heart stop.

The police were still investigating. They'd interrogated me, Aunt Mallory, and the neighbors enough times. I felt like they're getting closer and closer to the truth. To be perfectly honest, I never expected to survive this long without being caught. It's only a matter of time before they figure it out though. I'd be caught, thrown in jail, lose my entire life, my family. I'd lose the girls, and Aunt Mallory couldn't do this all alone.

I would figure this out. I'd help Aunt Mallory raise the twins. They already lost both their parents, they're not losing me too.

The funeral ended and food was served at the town's local hall. After eating barely anything, I escaped to the bathroom. I hid in a stall, trying to bring my thoughts to anything but my mother. No one dared to bother me though many eyes followed me. They probably thought that I needed to mourn still. I was done mourning though. She put me through enough pain as it is. She did not deserve another thought from me.