Sam and Colby: The House

53 *Colby's POV*

you guys are really gonna hate me for this one.

*Colby's point of view*

"I fucking hate funerals," I muttered, buttoning up my black shirt.

"I know. This is tough for everyone," Sam said, lacing up his black and white Converse. "You ready to go, brother?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

"What was it again? The cause of death, I mean," Sam said.

"Liver failure," I said. We made our way down the Traphouse stairs, my hand feeling empty without Nessa's in it.

"I can drive," Sam said, grabbing his keys off of the kitchen counter.

"Is Jake meeting us there? With everyone else?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's the plan," Sam said. We drove to the funeral home in silence, dreading what was to come in the next few hours. We pulled up to the building and made our way through its front door straight to the back, out into the bright green grass of the funeral lot.

"Hey, brother," Jake said, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey man, you doing okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Reggie's a little more beat up about it than I am, but we'll be alright. You doing okay, too?" asked Jake.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," I said. We all took our seats, me joining Jake, Tara, Reggie, Sam, Aryia, Kevin, and Cassie in the front row.

The pastor came out and stood behind the closed casket, white roses resting on top.

"We are here today to pay our tributes and our respect to an individual who will always be a child of God. We are here to show our love and support for the deceased family members and close friends. Not only have we sensed our own personal feelings of loss, but our hearts have been drawn to and will continue to rest in this grave alongside this casket," said the preacher. I looked down at my hands, running my finger over my bird tattoo.

I stopped listening to the pastor, didn't listen to any of the family's speeches and eulogies. I'd only been to one funeral before, for my grandmother when I was a little kid. The air here was heavy, full of mourning and loss.

After what seemed like forever, the service was finally over. The Traphouse and Krachouse members made our way back to the parking lot together, not saying a single word the entire walk.

"Jake, would you mind getting a ride from someone else? I just want to be alone for a little bit," said Reggie.

"Of course, brother. Be safe, okay? I love you," Jake said, giving Reggie a hug.

"Yeah. I love you, too," said Reggie softly before getting into his car and driving away.

"We brought Sam's car, there's only two seats," I said.

"I can drive him home," said Corey. We all said our goodbyes and Sam and I drove back to the house, another silent car ride.

"It's almost four. I'm going to go see Nessa for visiting hours," I said.

"Alright, I'm going to go chill with Jake. Don't want him to be alone unless he asks," said Sam.

"Okay, call if you need anything," I said.

"Will do. Tell Nessa I said hi," said Sam.

"I will," I replied. I went back outside and got in my car, making the short drive to the LA hospital by our house.

I knew the drill now on how to visit her. Go in, sign my name on the visitor sheet, wait for a sticker to print out and write my name on it, too. I made my way down the long hallway corridor to her room and knocked on the open door gently before walking in.

"Baby! Hi! I missed you," Nessa said, a big smile on her face.

"I missed you too, princess," I said. I walked over and sat on the edge of her bed and gave her a big hug.

"Was the funeral today?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Poor Reggie. I know he was really close with his grandpa," Nessa said. "How's Jake doing?"

"Better than Reggie. Jake didn't see him as much," I said.

"Well tell them I'm sorry I couldn't come," she replied.

"I'm pretty sure they'll understand, babe," I said with a dry laugh.

"I know, but still. Oh, guess what?" she asked, her beautiful green eyes lighting up with excitement.

"What?" I asked.

"They're discharging me next week instead of in three weeks! They took my staples and stitches out earlier today. I healed faster than they thought," she said.

"I'm so glad they were able to transport you here from Wisconsin," I said, holding the side of her face.

"Me too," I said. "Plus I got to ride in a helicopter. Pretty fucking sick."

"You're absolutely amazing," I said.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"You're so... happy. You've been in a hospital bed for two months. You were cut open by the ghost of a fucking serial killer," I said. "Did the police finally drop the case?"

"No. They're still looking for someone. But they're done questioning me now even though they didn't exactly believe the idea that an invisible entity came at me with a knife. I'm really lucky you came in when you did, though. He disappeared the moment he heard you and Sam running up those stairs," she said.

"I really thought I was going to lose you, baby. You were in the ICU for three weeks," I said.

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily, Brock," she replied with a smile.

"I never plan on getting rid of you, Atkins," I said back