-Isabelle's POV-

I walk up to the church, nervous as ever. I don't know why I'm so nervous, but I am. I just can't believe this is all happening.

Nobody is here yet, except for a stray reporter. Since my mother was so successful in the fashion industry, with her own line selling millions of clothes internationally, the media has taken a liking to her. The news of her death was released last week to the public. I've tried to avoid any TV or radios since then.

Harry shoos the reporter away as he walks me inside. "Do you want me to leave?" Harry asks. I know this is supposed to be my time alone, but I can't stand to do this by myself.

"Please stay," my voice comes out in a whisper.

He nods, and I give him a sad, grateful smile in return.

I've never been inside a church before. I'm not against religion at all, I think it's beautiful to have so much faith in something. However, my family never really took it up. I think one of my Grandma's is a heavy church-goer, but that's about it.

The church is beautiful. It's the only one in town, and it's the smallest little thing with only a few rooms. It's almost all made out of a pretty, dark wood, with a stained glass skylight that sparkles with a million colours when the sun hits it.

We walk past the Paster, avoiding eye contact, until we get inside the church room where the service will be held. My father is already busying himself inside with flowers and eulogy speeches and little cards with my mother's picture on them.

"Need any help?" I ask my father once he sees me.

"If you could just arrange the flowers around the casket, that'd be great." He replies. His sadness is long gone. He was never really one for emotions, and besides... Him and my mother were over. He has Amy now to comfort him, but I still know he misses my mother.

I do as he says and carefully arrange the white lillies around the empty casket. My mother's body wasn't found; it's said to be sunken deep in the ocean along with the rest of them and most of the plane itself.

I'm almost glad there's no body, as I couldn't stand to see my mother without the liveliness in her eyes. But at the same time, I hate the idea of her being fed on by rogue sharks and minuscule plankton in the water. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.


As I'm admiring how pretty she looks in the chosen picture that's displayed above, more and more people start filing in. A few of my aunts and uncles and cousins from my mother's side arrive as well.

I get more hugs than I can remember, but I'm not sure who from. My face has turned into a blank mask, too tired to show any more feelings or emotions to all of these strangers.

People start to talk as we take our seats. Mine, along with Harry's my father's and some of my family's, are in the reserved section in the front row.

My father asked me - no, sorry, begged me - to speak, but I refused. How could I when I can't even think of her?

People start to speak on her behalf about her life, her dreams, her desires. I don't even know half of them. Why do they know so much about my mother? It appears as though they know more about her than I do. It angers me. She was my mother, not theirs.

I guess Harry can feel the steam coming out of my ears, because he grabs my hand and squeezes it reassuringly as he rubs gently circles in my palm with his thumb. His gesture is comforting.

Finally, the service ends, and everyone files out the door to the other room where the post-funeral gathering is being held.

"How are you holding up, dear?" Is all I hear as I pass through the sea of people. So many people keep asking me how I am. How do they think I am? What do they expect me to say!?

My my mother just died, for crying out loud, LEAVE ME ALONE! I scream in my head at everyone who passes by me.

After the tenth person I've ignored, people start to give up talking to me.

"Harry, can we leave, please," I ask. I don't want to be in a room full of strangers who think they know my mother. None of them do, not one of them. Only me. And maybe Anne.

"Are you sure?" He asks cautiously. It's clear he doesn't want to upset me further, but he knows it's a good idea to stay.

"I just can't do this," I grit through my teeth as I make my way out of the church.

-Harry's POV-

I let Isabelle's father and my mother know we're leaving before following Isabele's footsteps out of the church. I find her in my car, but when I open it I realize the tears have started streaming down her face.

I don't say a word, and neither does she. I just pull her into my arms and hold her, rocking gently back and forth like the waves on the ocean.

"Can we get of here?" Isabelle asks me. This time I know she doesn't mean out of the church. She means out. Far away, out of this town, out of this country, out of this nightmare of a life.

I nod curtly and jam my keys into the ignition. I decide to take her to my grandfather's motel just outside Lakewood. He passed away earlier this year, but the motel hasn't sold. I don't even think it's on the market. All of his employees still work there, and they all know me by name. I'm sure we can get a room and escape everything.

As i start the long drive up, Isabelle falls asleep, her face pressed into the cold glass of the window. I start to hum, hoping to scare away her nightmares as the car turns around the dirt path, skidding to a halt when we reach the motel.

I take one last look at her before opening my door and carrying her inside.

Notes

Hi guys! I'm sorry for such a depressing chapter. You're going to absolutely LOVE the next one, I promise. It's going to be much longer and bigger and better and aghhhh I can't wait for you all to read it.

Thank you so much for reading!

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