losing him | billy hargrove [#2]

Epilogue

I let my hands roam over the dark casket. It fitted him, this color. He once told me he wanted a dark casket when he died. When I asked him why he would tell me that, he just answered with 'because I am going to be with you for my whole life anyway'. He was right about that, but he went way too quickly.

The funeral had been bearable for me. I said something, Max said something and his father spoke a few words. I couldn't believe they let that man up there. While he was speaking, I saw the tears fall. It was all a big show to me. If he truly loved his son like he did, then he wouldn't have beaten him. Ever.

"Grace? We must go, sweetheart," my mother said behind me. She rubbed my shoulder softly. I was happy that she and my father had come. They weren't the only ones. Everyone was here. Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, the boys and even Robin.

"Okay," I said. I felt how she and my father started to walk away, giving me some space. I looked at the casket for one last time. "I love you," I whispered, so quiet that only he could hear. Then I turned around and started to walk away.

A little further from the burial place, there was a line of people that led to Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Mayfield. Everybody was paying them respects of course. My parents had joined the queue and I stood beside them. I wasn't going to make a scene, but I wasn't going to let this slide either. Billy wouldn't have let me.

When it was our turn, my parents gave both of them a handshake and paid their respects. I first gave Mrs. Mayfield a small hug and told her I was sorry. Then I turned to Mr. Hargrove and stuck my hand out. He took it with a small smile and I wrapped my other hand around it, pulling him closer.

"I hope you live with the guilt of what you did to your son for the rest of your life," I said quietly. I was pretty sure that Mrs. Mayfield could hear, but I didn't care. "He was better than you. Much better."

I let go of his hand and gave him a small smile. He nodded and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to get through to him, but I secretly still hoped so. This way he at least knew that the death of his son wasn't something that brought us together. I walked towards my mother and hooked my arm through hers.

"I'm ready," I said. "Let's go home."