Luke's POV
Before this, I had never been to a funeral before. In the space of the last week, I had attended five of my best friends.
I stood in front of my mirror, my shaking hands tying the black tie again, and I straightened down the front of my suit.
I hated this. I hated all of this. Wearing a suit reminded me of that night, the material against my skin was enough for my heartbeat to quicken.
Today was Grace's funeral. Also the funeral that I was dreading the most. I hadn't spoke to her family - I couldn't.
It felt like it was my fault. It was my fault. I shouldn't have let her leave my sight. We might have gone a different route, away from gunfire. I wasn't even with her when she died.
I think that's what was hurting the most. There was no goodbye.
Then, there was a soft knock at the door.
"Yeah?" I called out, and I saw my Dad enter.
"Hey, bud." He said, walking over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"There's something... there's something we need to tell you." He said, motioning for me to take a seat on my bed. I nodded, sitting down and he joined me, sitting on the bottom of the bed.
"The police came round, but we wanted you to have a bit of time to yourself before today," he spoke slowly. He was being cautious, I saw - I was starting to wonder why.
"They spoke to us and said they went to the Manor, and..." He paused, and shook his head, "Luke, bud, I'm sorry, no one was alive. The staff, the ones in charge, they had all committed suicide."
I froze, not knowing how to react.
"You okay?" Dad asked and I quickly nodded, still holding in my breath.
"Luke, your Mom and I were thinking that maybe you left hospital too early? The doctors still wanted to keep an eye on you..." He started but I cut him off quickly.
"Seriously? I'm not going back to the psych ward! I'm fine, okay?" I said loudly, my Dad's face dropping and standing up from the bed.
"Okay, I'll finish getting ready. I'll see you soon?" He asked and I nodded, and he left my room.
My breath rushed out all at once, and I felt tears sting my eyes.
Suicide? That means... no jail. No consequences for what they had done.
Also, the psych ward again? I knew I wasn't okay, but I couldn't handle it in there. All of their bullshitting about what I went through and they understood. Not one person understands what this is like.
Except...
Wiping away the tear that fell down my face, I took my phone out, my finger hesitating over Annie's name.
My hand shook, and I sighed, locking my phone and placing it back in my pocket.
It wouldn't do any good, I'd tell her after the funeral. I stood up, slipping into black shoes and exiting my bedroom down to the kitchen, where my Mom was sitting.
"Hey honey." She said, standing up and coming over to me, giving me a hug. I swallowed, as she let go and she rubbed my back.
"After today, we can start to move on." She said and I willed myself not to say a word.
Move on? Was she for real?
"Do you want anything to eat before we go?" She asked and I shook my head, as Dad entered the room.
