Until you call again. (Complete)

Please don't leave me.

I didn't want to go to the funeral.

Listening to people telling me how sorry they are was the last thing I needed. Tristan said I'd regret it if I didn't go. He said it was important that I said my goodbye, that I won't see it now but I'll be thankful in the future.

But as I sit here at the burial looking at all their sympathetic looks, I wish I'd stayed home. When something tragic happens to you, the last thing you want is people reminding you of how bad your situation is. I haven't really grasped the reality of my circumstances if I'm being honest. I've cried a few times but mostly because I'm expected to.

My parents were good people. I'm not just saying this because they're dead. They met at a charity house where they'd been helping out. They didn't have money to donate so they offered their hands. Mom was helping out with the cooking and cleaning, and dad was helping out with maintenance. Aunty Maggie tells me this story all the time, they'd then started going there everyday after school just so they could see each other.

That of course was the reason mom's seclusive and wealthy family disowned her. They didn't approve of Dad because he wasn't of the right status background and they'd told her to choose. Mom didn't have to think about it, she'd never felt love like that before, not even from her own parents so she wasn't going to trade it for anything.

I smile as I think of that. Mom never cared about material things despite her family's fortune, she always taught me to cherish relationships and non-monetary values as they are irreplaceable.

Aunty Maggie took her in after she was disowned as she had no where else to go. When she got pregnant with me, dad felt bad and worked really hard so that he could provide for us. I still remember how they used to bicker about that. Mom always telling dad he didn't need to make a lot of money for them to be happy, and dad's argument being that we deserved everything we wanted in this world.

The irony was completely lost on them that mom grew up wealthy but sought the opposite and dad didn't have much growing up and so he wanted more. Mostly to accommodate mom as she'd grown up with it. They'd eventually compromised. They both worked average jobs, we lived in an average house and lived average lives. We were happy.

I smile again but this time the action is accompanied by tears. I feel a hand on my hand and I look over to see Tristan beside me with a confused look on his face. He tightens his grip on my hand as I look forward to see the two caskets descending.

It all hits me like a brick. It's like I'd been on autopilot ever since they'd broken the news to me and I was finally realizing what was happening.

On their way back home from their anniversary getaway, my parents' car collided with a speeding truck driven by a drunk driver and they died at the scene. The wreck was apparently so bad that they could barely identify their bodies.

My refusal to believe that actually happened had me feeling numb to the whole thing. So when people had come to the house to wish me their condolences I'd barely shed a tear.

But now,

"Mama please don't leave me. Dad come back." I whisper but it comes out as a scream.

I must be causing a scene because there's about five people holding me but I don't care. I want to go with my parents.

Who's going to switch the lights off for me when I'm already sleeping so I don't have nightmares? Who's going to mend my broken heart? Who's going to make sure that I have everything that I need and be there for me?

Who's going to love me?

I feel my body shake before everything goes dark.

I wake up the following morning in a room I've never seen before, with a headache and a heartache.

I'm an orphan.

I look around the airy looking room and calm down when I see a picture of my beautiful mother. I must be at Aunty Maggie's. The realization brings me a sense of comfort and I lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

My mind oddly takes me back to a very terrified ten year old me at an amusement park. My peers were going around getting on rides but I was holding on to my mother's leg. I was always very shy and I didn't get along with other kids so I was going everywhere she was going.

We'd then stopped by the bumper cars where she lowered her body to my height and looked into my eyes with a softness in hers and said, "honey, if you don't go and face your fears you become a slave to them". I of course looked at her like she'd grown a third eye because I was young and all I wanted was candy.

Dad used to say she would do that even when I was a toddler, talk to me like I was big enough to understand. I guess I see the point of it now, I remember most of her analogies and metaphors with a bigger understanding. She's a big part of my wanting to become a writer. She made me fall in love with words.

Aunty Maggie walks into the room disturbing my thoughts. I sit up and face the door to realize she's not alone. Behind her is a scrawny looking older lady standing beside a tall intimidating figure. Their presence makes me feel cold and I suddenly feel the need to fix my posture.

"Sweetheart, this is Mr and Mrs Kwali." Aunty Maggie says carefully to me. I eye her then the couple next to her waiting for her to explain but she just looks at me like that was all the information I needed to understand what was going on.

"Hi Mia," the older lady says as she approaches me on the bed and I move slightly in discomfort. She doesn't seem to care that I would rather not have her sit next to me and she goes on to touch my arm too.

"You look just like her," she says now seemingly in pain. "You knew my mom?" I ask barely audible.

"I gave birth to her. Dear, I'm your grandmother."

I never wanted to meet the people who gave my mother up simply because she fell in love with someone who wasn't 'good enough'. Mom always insisted they weren't bad people but she couldn't fool me.

I know mom forgave them eventually, that was who she was. But that didn't mean I had to be ok with that. So when they'd wanted to meet me on more than a few occasions I'd happily declined.

"You don't get to cry about her now! You don't get to be here! You don't get to care!" I shout at the two monsters as tears stream down my face.

Aunty Maggie tries to calm me down but I take my phone and run as far as my legs could take me. I don't even realize I'm still in pajamas and I'm not wearing shoes. I just want to not be there.

I then call the only person alive who cares about me as soon as I feel that I'm far enough. He gets to me in no time and I feel thankful that I have him in my life.

He hugs me so tight and whispers soothing words as I cry uncontrollably. Being in his arms makes me feel like it's all going to be ok. I'm going to be ok as long as he's here.

"Please don't leave me,"  I whisper as we drive into oblivion.

"I'll be here even when you don't want me to be anymore," he says calming my heart down.