Adopted By My Step Brothers

I Hate Funerals | Chapter 1

PSA !

I wrote this book a long time ago when I was14- 15 years old and had no idea how to properly write a story. I still am not 100% perfect, but doing the best I can in fixing the errors and making the story line make sense. I'm currently re-writing and editing this story so for any confusion as your reading please Blame my 15 year old self. Thanks 😘 some things in the story have changed and most things stayed the same so if you are here re-reading, make sure you read everything so you can see what changed and what did not. Also message me with any questions you have about the story, I will be active on Wattpad everyday so I will be on the look out for your messages!💖

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The nerve of my broken twisted family. They actually showed up today. My aunt, uncle and a few of my distant cousins were all gathered in their seats along with lots of other church goers, mourning the loss of two people from the community.

THE AUDACITY!

I was furious. It's my mothers funeral for Christ's sake and now they wanna show up! Where were they when I called them at 2 and 3 in the morning when my mom and her ex husband Walter would leave me in the middle of the night almost every night and I woke up wondering if they were even coming back?
Where were they when my mom desperately tried to escape my abusive step father Walter but no one would help her go through with it? He actually wasn't even my real father but she's been with him so long that he was the closest thing to one.

I never saw them take drugs or do them but I googled the signs, so I knew what it looked like when people were normal vs when they are doped up on something. I knew they were on them. My family wasn't ever here to help but now that it was too late they wanted to come and mourn in black clothes like they were good people. Like they really gave a crap.

The part that really didn't make sense to me was how did they die from drugs but I found them bloody as if they were beaten? It was weird but the cops told me it was drugs. I didn't know what to believe, but I definitely did not believe that.

The small church that we were in was our family church. I guess It looked okay with big long windows with blue angels in them. Huge rows of brown seats and a wide section in the front where the priest stood, next to my mother's body in the casket.

I grew up coming to this church and I would only go when my grandmother would take me and I always hated it. I never felt connected to any of it I guess. Not my fault that I didn't understand, and no one explained it to me. She died shortly after her 60th birthday so I stopped going as I got older.

I was lost having conversations with myself in my head when I felt a body sit next to me and a warm arm wrap around my shoulders. My body automatically tensed up.

"Ariel I'm so sorry, I should have come to your rescue every single time you called me." My aunt Caroline cried out. Tears staining her pretty face. "I'm so so sorry." She repeated as I turned to make eye contact with her.

I almost felt a little sorry for her because my mom was her sister. But I wouldn't allow it. She actually looked hurt though. She was the rich one out of her and my mom. The controlling uptight college graduate. The one my grandmother was proud of. She thought she was better then us and has not ever thought to help me when I really really needed her. She was the main one I would always call for help. She was the complete opposite of my mom in every way including looks. My mom had dark hair and aunt Caroline had short blonde hair that was always bone straight and flipped upwards at the ends. Her face was always tight and serious but right now it was twisted in a ugly crying face but even her cries were controlled. She continuously swiped her tears away before it could reach her cheeks and ruin her bright makeup. I sent her my meanest glare feeling my anger build up from the deepest pit inside me rising to the edge as I thought about her selfish ways. I scooted over making her arm fall away from my body.