Guardian Angel \\ l.h.\\ Luke Hemmings

Chapter One: The Unofficial Beginning

It should have hit me like a ton of bricks with every apologizing touch on my shoulder, every pitiful glance. It should have felt like a punch in the stomach or a slap on the face.

But instead I felt numb, not the numbness as though I was utterly ignorant to the situation because I knew what was happening. I knew what day it was, I knew my name, I knew what dress I wanted to wear. But it was the kind of numbness that pushes you out of reality, it was the knowledge that you were there but the feeling of not actually being present.

In fact, I could only sense what seemed to be a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach. It tugged at me throughout the tears of my relatives to the heartfelt shared memories of strangers. But the only time I truly let the hole control me was when I was alone, just me, with the corpse of my once beloved, breathing father, who was now forever sealed in a mahogany casket.

"Cayden, my dear, it's time to go." Two frail hands were placed on my shoulders.

I turned to see my grandmother, whose expression was the same as the others, pitiful and sorrow.

Two emotions I didn't need to witness at the moment.

I internally winced and with one last wordless goodbye to my father, my grandmother escorted me out the musky chapel as her hands, still on my shoulders, guided me out of the church vicinity.

A few guests were loitered across the patches of the front lawn, conversing about their time with my father. They all turned immediately to glance at me forcing me to cower away from their sympathy.

They don't understand, no one will ever understand.

My uncle was the first to meet us as he instantly engulfed me in his arms. "It's perfectly fine to be upset Cay." He whispers, but I feel nothing.

He doesn't know that I'm past the stage of stage grief. Now I was just, dare I say it again, completely numb. I guess the rest my family was worried that I wasn't showing a single ounce of remorse during the whole funeral. But they weren't with me when I had used over five tissue boxes in one sitting or when I woke up everyday for two straight weeks to a damp pillow from spilled tears. They weren't with me when I refused to get out of bed or when I broke down from every little reminder that my own dad was not here to protect me anymore.

He wasn't here to comfort me in my time of need or sing to me when I couldn't sleep. Weekly trips to the lake were vanished before I could comprehend while classic movie nights with take out were just memories. There would be no one to talk to when a boy broke my heart or no one to argue with when someone ate the last piece of pizza.

My father was my anchor and now that the anchor has been released I felt as though I was a ship drifting forever into a sea of unknown.

"I'm fine." I informed my uncle. Yet he didn't seem convinced and frankly due to my monotone tone voice I wasn't so sure if I was as well.

"Dave, why don't you help Cayden move her belongings into Silvia's house? I'm sure Cayden could use the extra help." My grandmother suggested. But that was far from the truth, I only had two half filled duffel bags and a back pack that had all my school supplies.

Yet, I still agreed because I needed to be as far away from here as humanly possible. I didn't want the hurt or the sorrow anymore, in fact I just wanted to be alone. Sometimes exclusion is good, sometimes it's necessary. In this case it was both.

"Shall we go then?" Uncle Dave smiled at me and I nodded. His elbow directed out to me to which I laced my arm through.

"For the beginning of fall, it's already pretty chilly wouldn't you think?" He asked. I knew what he was doing, he was trying to get my mind off of the funeral as he knew I was masking the pain.

"Definitely." I agreed as a slight crisp breeze danced through us. I tightened my thin, black cardigan around my body while I watched as my leather boots crumpled the multi colored leaves of autumn.

The rest of the walk uphill was silent until we reached a white, slightly beat up old car.

"You haven't been in Betty since you were seven when Mark and you finally visited me in New York." My uncle informed me while he opened the passenger door for me.

I was buckling my seat belt in when Uncle Dave slide behind the wheel, still reminiscing the time my dad and I traveled to see him.

I didn't remember much of the trip but I did remember Betty. She still smelled of musk and the hint of cigarettes that my father and him smoked still tainted the air. I used to despise the strong smell but now after these past few weeks I welcomed it because it reminded me of him. The tope leather was still cracked and the crayon misshape was still noticeable as purple bled through a small circle on the back seats.

"I can't believe it has been eleven years since. You have grown up so much kiddo, you know that?" He grinned at me while he started the car.

"So I have been told." I mumbled and leaned my elbow on the window, stress from today's events were slowly weathering me down.

"I know it been hard Cay, his death has been hard on all of us. But I'm here for you sweetie, everyone is." My uncle's five seconds of happiness flipped into sentimental reassurance.

"I just wished I could have lived with you." I stated, gazing out the window while we drove away from the cemetery, away from my father, from everything I used to be.

"I wish that could have happened too. But you know you have to go with your stepmother, she's your guardian now that your mother -um you know."

I deeply sighed, "I know but life's just so unfair."

"When is it my dear?"