The Love of a Lifetime - Part 1 Redone
OK, so I really really really hate to confuse u guys. But this is part 1, the very beginning at the funeral. But it has a part of her dads death. PLEASE comment.
I'M SO SORRY IF THIS CONFUSES YOU BUT THIS IS JUST THE FUNERAL PART OF PART 1 REDONE. IT'S NOT ANOTHER CHAPTER. IT'S JUST PART 1 AGAIN BUT DIFFERENT. Thank you.
I sat patiently, waiting to hear my name. Everything was merely a low hum mixed into the background. I was in my own world now, alone again, focusing on nothing, concentrating on maintaining my composure, calmly awaiting my call, my sign that it was my turn to speak. I didn't notice the ticking minutes as they crawled by. Time was frozen, my existence rendered useless. I was here for one thing and one thing only; to keep a promise and tell our story. Today my first true loves life officially came to a final close, taking my life, my reason to live and my purpose with him. Today was more than an ending. It was a bookmark to a whole new beginning. And in order to tell everyone where his life ended, I had to start where mine began.
My thoughts drifted back to how familiar all of this seemed. The funeral, the pain, the tears. It brought me back to my father's death. My vision fogged as I remembered the haunting nightmare.
Shouts filled the air like a smothering rage. Every cry sent a booming wave of an invisible internal pain through my body. My heart felt like it was suddenly trying to pump thick honey through my body. I couldn't even pinpoint the direct area of the horrific shrieks of pain and yelps for help. I looked around as bodies came rushing past me, the ones closer to me seemed to have looks of revulsion and shock, while some were simply curious, hungry to help with what they could.
Then it hit. Help. They needed help, whoever it was who had sent the alarm streaming through every human within a miles radius of the flames burning at the sky, were in serious pain. I began to step forward as I remembered how to work my legs and arms. But in the same second I came back to life another burst of energy shook through the air, sending me back a step as the others around me ducked and screamed. Heat sent a drop of sweat down my forehead.
I smeared it away as I ran towards the explosion. The point of the havoc was dyed black with a murderously thick pillar of smoke. I was there within a minute, following everyone else. There was already a crowd of students, and teachers, bystanders, but not yet police and firefighters. I scanned the helpers as they shoved through the rubble of cars, merely escaping licking flames, thirsty for more blood. That's when I heard the most familiar voice, muting every other sound around me.
"I got one over here!" I heard my homeroom teacher yelp as he pulled a bloody, ashed body from under the back of a blue truck. I recognized the truck; it went with the voice I had just labeled.
I was next to the corpse before I realized I had even moved. My hand flung to the burnt throat, seeking a pulse, just a low thud of a heart that's all I needed.
"Move!" Someone reached down to the body in my arms as they shoved me out-of-the-way. If there was a pulse I had just narrowly missed it. In one second the helpers turned into enemies as I turned from a witness to a victim.
"No!" I shoved away a student as I pulled the body back into my grasp, still allowing others to do what they could. The teacher dabbed at the bloody wounds while a couple others tried CPR. That was good wasn't it? He couldn't breathe without a pulse so there must be a pulse. "Please!" I plead to god to let the heart keep beating.
"No, Elis!" Someone's hand flew over my wet eyes as I was dragged away from the one I loved. I kicked at the figure I couldn't quite reach as they pulled me further and further away from my other half. My hands still out stretched in front of me. My father's image filled my mind. And only then did I realize what had happened. The burnt cadaver, black and red. The ashes that both covered his skin and yet were his skin, his blackened clothes that had been melted to his body, hugging every pore,. I twisted my way out of the strong arms just in time to lean to the side and empty my stomach in disgust. I couldn't rid myself of the smell of rotting corpses and boiling blood, my father's blood. I puked again.
I snapped back to life as I pushed those thoughts into the black hole in the back of my mind for later. Instead I focused on the tall, gangly man speaking at the podium; this seemed to help calm the shaking a little. He was young, around my age, wearing an all-too-large black tux. He dabbed at his red eyes, raw from the tears he was trying to cover up. The attire seemed all too perfect for the occasion -
"Elizabeth Kris." The boy announced, silencing my mumbling mind.
I gently stood and made my way to the podium, thanking him as he stepped aside to join the mutely applauding crowd.
I delicately placed my hands on the cool, icy wood as I drew in a sharp breath; it felt like I was sucking in shards of glass. That's what the story felt like lately; sharp, numbing pain. I breathed out as I prepared to start from the beginning.
I sat patiently, waiting to hear my name. Everything was merely a low hum mixed into the background. I was in my own world now, alone again, focusing on nothing, concentrating on maintaining my composure, calmly awaiting my call, my sign that it was my turn to speak. I didn't notice the ticking minutes as they crawled by. Time was frozen, my existence rendered useless. I was here for one thing and one thing only; to keep a promise and tell our story. Today my first true loves life officially came to a final close, taking my life, my reason to live and my purpose with him. Today was more than an ending. It was a bookmark to a whole new beginning. And in order to tell everyone where his life ended, I had to start where mine began.
My thoughts drifted back to how familiar all of this seemed. The funeral, the pain, the tears. It brought me back to my father's death. My vision fogged as I remembered the haunting nightmare.
Shouts filled the air like a smothering rage. Every cry sent a booming wave of an invisible internal pain through my body. My heart felt like it was suddenly trying to pump thick honey through my body. I couldn't even pinpoint the direct area of the horrific shrieks of pain and yelps for help. I looked around as bodies came rushing past me, the ones closer to me seemed to have looks of revulsion and shock, while some were simply curious, hungry to help with what they could.
Then it hit. Help. They needed help, whoever it was who had sent the alarm streaming through every human within a miles radius of the flames burning at the sky, were in serious pain. I began to step forward as I remembered how to work my legs and arms. But in the same second I came back to life another burst of energy shook through the air, sending me back a step as the others around me ducked and screamed. Heat sent a drop of sweat down my forehead.
I smeared it away as I ran towards the explosion. The point of the havoc was dyed black with a murderously thick pillar of smoke. I was there within a minute, following everyone else. There was already a crowd of students, and teachers, bystanders, but not yet police and firefighters. I scanned the helpers as they shoved through the rubble of cars, merely escaping licking flames, thirsty for more blood. That's when I heard the most familiar voice, muting every other sound around me.
"I got one over here!" I heard my homeroom teacher yelp as he pulled a bloody, ashed body from under the back of a blue truck. I recognized the truck; it went with the voice I had just labeled.
I was next to the corpse before I realized I had even moved. My hand flung to the burnt throat, seeking a pulse, just a low thud of a heart that's all I needed.
"Move!" Someone reached down to the body in my arms as they shoved me out-of-the-way. If there was a pulse I had just narrowly missed it. In one second the helpers turned into enemies as I turned from a witness to a victim.
"No!" I shoved away a student as I pulled the body back into my grasp, still allowing others to do what they could. The teacher dabbed at the bloody wounds while a couple others tried CPR. That was good wasn't it? He couldn't breathe without a pulse so there must be a pulse. "Please!" I plead to god to let the heart keep beating.
"No, Elis!" Someone's hand flew over my wet eyes as I was dragged away from the one I loved. I kicked at the figure I couldn't quite reach as they pulled me further and further away from my other half. My hands still out stretched in front of me. My father's image filled my mind. And only then did I realize what had happened. The burnt cadaver, black and red. The ashes that both covered his skin and yet were his skin, his blackened clothes that had been melted to his body, hugging every pore,. I twisted my way out of the strong arms just in time to lean to the side and empty my stomach in disgust. I couldn't rid myself of the smell of rotting corpses and boiling blood, my father's blood. I puked again.
I snapped back to life as I pushed those thoughts into the black hole in the back of my mind for later. Instead I focused on the tall, gangly man speaking at the podium; this seemed to help calm the shaking a little. He was young, around my age, wearing an all-too-large black tux. He dabbed at his red eyes, raw from the tears he was trying to cover up. The attire seemed all too perfect for the occasion -
"Elizabeth Kris." The boy announced, silencing my mumbling mind.
I gently stood and made my way to the podium, thanking him as he stepped aside to join the mutely applauding crowd.
I delicately placed my hands on the cool, icy wood as I drew in a sharp breath; it felt like I was sucking in shards of glass. That's what the story felt like lately; sharp, numbing pain. I breathed out as I prepared to start from the beginning.
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