How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 65: A Funeral and A Party

The procession was silent. The attendants clad in black all wore somber faces, standing mute as the priest began his sermon. The funeral was taking place at a quiet cemetery by his home, and grassland stretched as far as the eye could see. Oliver's corpse lay at the front, in an oak casket his sister had picked for him.

I couldn't look at him.

My best friend's face was still swollen, disfigured from the drowning and the post-mortem that had followed. They had caked him with makeup, trying to mask the grim blue hues his skin had taken on, or the paleness to his lips. His eyes were shut, his hands clasped atop his abdomen. It created the cruel impression that he would awake any second.

It felt surreal.

Oliver's sister had dressed him in a fitting black tux, lovingly pressed purple hyacinths into his coat pocket. His blonde hair had been combed neatly, separated down the middle with gentleness.

My best friend would've hated that, I thought. He had always mussed his hair up stylishly, joked about how it brought in all the ladies. If he could see it now, he would've groaned in displeasure. Called us traitors. The thought brought a laugh to my lips, but it soon turned into a sob that caused my tears to quicken.

Three days had passed since he had departed, and yet, my heart couldn't fathom what was happening. Adrian stood by my side, looking haunted, and Brian to my left, but I barely noticed. The past few days had been a blur.

I vaguely saw Kimberly Hall walk to the front, saw her mouth move as she spoke lovingly about her brother. Brave, intelligent, kind, she said. Oliver had been all those. I saw her break into tears mid-way through the eulogy, saw a tall man with hair tied in a ponytail offer her a handkerchief. But Kimberly refused, wiped her tears bravely and pushed on, for her brother's sake.

When they shut the coffin, and I caught the last glimpse of Oliver's face, I lost it. I knew I had fallen, could feel the grass between my fingertips, feel someone's gentle hands on my shoulders. But I couldn't see past the tears that welled in my eyes, or the ocean of hurt that had erupted in my chest.

It was over. It was all over.

Someone had drowned him. This was murder. Why? What bad had Oliver Hall ever done to this fucking world?

When the burial had ended, and I sensed the crowd had begun to dissipate, I forced myself to my feet. Pushed Adrian's hands off me. I saw the pain that stirred in his green eyes as he let go but found no space in my heart to care.

Kimberly was walking away from the funeral now; the tears had stopped flowing and she appeared dazed. I needed to talk to her.

I felt a hand grab mine, stopping me in my tracks.

"Charley," it was Brian. He was looking at me, and I saw pain mirrored in his eyes.

"Stay away from me," I yanked my hand from his, stepped abruptly away, and added when his mouth opened to argue, "Or you'll end up dead too."

I saw the shock that darted into his eyes, the pain that intensified, and the shadows of fear that replaced it. He said nothing.

Kimberly was pushing her mother on her wheelchair, when I neared them.

"Kim," I called.

The woman stopped, turning around to face me. The hope was gone from her eyes; they were empty, just like her brother's.

"Kim, we need to figure out who did this," I didn't miss how hysterical I sounded, "We need to bury the bastard ourselves."

"And risk what, Charley?"