When Lily's Cry: Puppet Strings

Chapter XI. Give Her A Kiss

Hey guys :) I haven't been very active on wattpad recently, so I apologize. I looked over the comments and it seems a few of you have been wanting me to continue this book. For now have this short chapter, I'll be back with something longer soon. Enjoy!

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"What,,,?"

"I'm saying you should give her your final goodbye."

It made no sense. Alfreds Head was spinning and his palms moistened with sweat. What is this?

"Give her a kiss Alfred."

The overbearing voice and the vice-like hands wrapped around him. He felt like a deer caught in headlights. Everything was moving too fast for him to react. He didn't want to touch her. He didn't want to look at her anymore. Everything felt wrong, everything felt bad. His face was hot, steamy tears collecting on his chin as he sobbed openly. A mixture of words and thoughts and begging to go home mixed in his mouth.
His chest felt tight and it hurt to breath. His small body sagged like a rag doll as his father pulled him closer to his grandmother. He didn't want this. But he couldn't speak. He couldn't think. Every word uttered jumbled into one and Alfreds mind could only interpret it as laughter. Was this a joke? Was the request to kiss his grandmothers slowly rotting corpse a joke. Was the sprained wrist and panic attack a joke. Whatever. Alfred lost consciousness before he could kiss anything. Pathetic child. That's probably what everyone was thinking. Even in his disturbed sleep Alfred could clearly see the looks of pity or disdain. Everyone was exactly the same.

....

This is the moment Alfred began to hate his family.

....

Alfred laughed loudly, someone at the lunch table had just told a joke. Was it funny? He couldn't really tell, but everyone else was chuckling so it must've been. Perhaps this was happiness, smiling and carefree with your friends at lunch. He was too tired to dwell on deep thoughts like that, so he went back to tuning out the idle chit chat of his friends. Perhaps they weren't quite friends, since he didn't listen to much of what they had to say. It was always advice anyway. He couldn't trust any of them with his troubles, since they all came to him to address their own.
Maybe that's why he always felt so tired, maybe that's why he broke down so easily in front of Ludwig. Had he been holding everything in? His father always reminded him all his troubles and abuse were fantasies to garner pity from those around him. For a long time he was almost convinced his father was right. But Ludwig's kind words, Francis' company, Gilbert's treatment, Katyusha's warmth. Was that all Just pity? Every moment in his life with every person he cared for. Was it all empty sympathy with no affection for him? It was too hard to tell anymore.
As he walked home, alone and left to his thoughts, his face began to get hot and wet. He wiped away each tear that fell. Was it Natural to cry silently? Perhaps if there was someone who loved him, he could ask them all of these questions. Instead of asking himself and getting an "I don't know" in response, maybe instead he would get a hug, or a kiss on the cheek to warm his face. He touched his cheek, breathing a long sigh.

"It's cold."