Of Monsters And Men | Discontinued |

Episode Twenty Eight - Graveyard

The funeral is quiet- sad. The mans wife, weak and in a wheelchair, stays quiet, yet tears still fall down her cheeks, eyes swollen and red. Every time she looks at the widow, Evren feels her sympathy flaring in her chest, nearly exploding like a balloon, ready to get caught in her throat and choke her.

She avoids looking at the woman. She hates how sympathy burns her throat each time she glances at the widow, at the man's friends.

Evren also hates the dress she's stuck wearing. It smells like Karen and it itches her skin, each seam poking at her. She tries not to breathe with her nose that wrinkles each time she smells Karen. Karen who smelled like her James. Karen who is crying over the death of a friend, someone she looked up to- her mentor. She has sympathy for the woman- for everyone standing, staring into nothing rather than the casket.

Evren stays near Foggy, rather preferring his still-bubbly personality over Matt's, who remains stoic and silent no matter how many times she tries to talk to him. Foggy hadn't wanted to come, saying that he had better things to do, but when Evren quietly explained her dislike for KAren (much to his surprise) and how Matt has been brooding, he relented. Not even Karen could convince him to come, though Foggy did rope Evren into helping him with something later. He's been like that ever since learning of Urich's death. Matt had gone to Urich's home. She did, too, rather too curious for her own good. Matt had already gone and left, leaving the smell of Fisk- Fisk, who's a bad man, even if she doesn't hold memories of him anymore; who had her under his control. She doesn't want to think if she could have been under his thumb willingly.

And, of course, she doesn't want to talk to Karen. Karen sets alarms off in her stomach that Rot and Evren don't dare to ignore. They still keep Karen carefully in their peripheral vision, or at least where they can easily hear her. Matt was wrong- Karen doesn't like her. Karen is scared of her, of her name and who she is. Just like Evren is apprehensive of her, wary about how she acts. Skittish like a fox stuck in a trap.

They, Matt, Foggy, and Karen, stay, even as the crowd finally dissipates, heading to their cars, trampling over graves or skirting around them, and it starts raining. Just a drizzle, each drop somehow managing to cling to her, not the pale dress that hugs her skin too tightly. Yet she moves, further into the cemetery, sniffling. She doesn't want to be near the grave anymore. It makes her feel bad- like she can't even look at the casket before her head aches, trying to bring forth a memory, yet being unable to.

She doesn't want them to come back- she's still afraid of what it can bring. Not a casket- she feels as if she's lost enough. She's alone, besides two men who only know what she does of the past three or four months since she was taken. The trees scattered through the gravestones, one spindly tree every hundred graves, only make the scene more haunting and lonely-- darker. Her shoes, honey brown flats, squish in the mud that splashes up her ankle.

She lets her gaze wander over the gravestones, taken aback when she sees one that tugs at her- that draws her closer to it. The dirt is fresh, maybe a week old at most. The grave has a small bundle of wilted flowers on it- tulips. That was James' favorite flower, and hers, too. She raises her gaze to the name, the gravestone cleaned and darkening from the rain that pours down onto it.

James T. Wesley

1984-20XX

More than a best friend, but a son.

A loving fiance.

Her breath catches in her throat. No. James has to be alive. He can't be dead- she just saw him a week- maybe two- before. He can't be dead.

"No." She finds herself mumbling, the words alien to her own ears. "No no no... Yo-You can't be dead, James." She chokes, desperately, somehow on the ground already, fingers digging into the dirt, her body shaking, rain slamming down on her back, soaking her nearly black hair. "No. James. No. No no no. Please."