Ghetto *An August Alsina Fan Fiction*

Chapter 27- Anger

I'm so sorry for the long wait. I've been busy filling out applications for colleges and scholarships. It's my senior year, but I'm gonna try to write whenever I get a chance. There's only 3 chapters left in this book! I appreciate those of you who continue to read, comment, and vote on every single chapter!!!!

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*Keyanna*

I let out a deep breath as I took in my surroundings. We were at Mel's funeral and there hasn't been a dry eye in the room since the first 5 minutes of the service. This was the exact opposite of Rodney's emotionless "funeral". The only similarity between Mel's funeral and Rodney's was the closed casket. Mel had been shot multiple times in the head and chest. With these types of deaths, it's better to have a closed casket service so the family doesn't have to see their loved ones that way. Denzel and one August's brothers, Jamal, are the only ones that have seen Mel since he was shot. Denzel saw him when he had to ID the body at the hospital and Jamal saw him when he made the funeral arrangements. They both say he didn't really look like himself.

I was sitting in one of the rows in the middle of the church. Denzel, Kimberly, and Kiara were to the left of me and one of August's cousins was on my right. August was at the front with his mom and siblings. Every so often one of them would break down, causing half the people in the room to start crying. It hurt me to see August crying so much. I'm trying to stay strong, but the constant tears around me are making that extremely hard.

"Everyone please join me in prayer as we conclude the service," the pastor began. I followed suit as everyone respectfully bowed their head. "Eternal God, let your presence rest upon us as we give thanks for Melvin's life. We thank you for the days of life that you gave to him. May his memory live long among us and be a source of strength for us. In the midst of the loss we feel as we experience the death of one whom we love, keep us in touch also with the memories which can sustain us. May we find the courage to face the changes which life presents to us as we go on from here. Give to those who most deeply feel this loss the comfort of your presence, and enable each of us to minister to those who mourn. Amen," the pastor concluded. 

The church began to slowly empty as people left to make their way to the cemetery. For me, that has to be the hardest part of a funeral. Going to a cemetery and knowing that you’re about to bury a loved one is practically unbearable. Death is inevitable, it’s a natural part of life, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. I waited until most of the people were gone before I made my way to where August remained seated in the front pew. He sat staring blankly at the casket in front of him. I took a seat beside him, but stayed silent, not quite sure of what to say yet.

“This shit is fucked up,” August stated quietly. Physically, his body is right next to mine, but he seems so distant. He had come out of the denial stage of the grieving process, and now he was in the anger phase. He got mad over the simplest things and was liable to snap on someone at any random moment. If he wasn’t mad at one of us, then he was mad at himself. We’ve all told him that this wasn’t his fault, but he still feels somewhat guilty. He fails to realize that Mel being shot was completely out of his hands.

“It’s hard to believe. It don’t even seem real,” I mumbled, laying my head on his shoulder. As the days went on, I began to question whether or not this was real. I know I’m most likely just in denial, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible that Mel had faked his death just like Rodney. The only thing throwing me off was the fact that Denzel and Jamal had seen the body. It would be hard, but not impossible, for him to find a look alike. I don’t know what would be harder to accept, him faking his death and causing his family so much pain, or him actually being dead.  

"I don’t know how people can lose a sibling, or anybody close to 'em, and still go on," August said slowly.

"It's hard. I know it seems impossible to move on now, but it gets a little bit easier every day," I spoke from experience. I cried every night the first month after my brother died. I didn't ever think that the emotional pain I felt would go away.