Before It Comes

Prologue

The music swelled, ringing through the halls of the church as I filed in behind my cousin. I followed her step for step, marching in the precession as all of the seated guests watched us in a kind of fascination. From the corner of my eye, I could see the pews were filled with a dizzying number of attendees. I stumbled a little in my heels under the scrutiny but a seated man caught me by the elbow.

"Thank you," I mumbled under my breath, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Heat rose up my neck until I could feel the flush in my cheeks from embarrassment. Wiping my sweaty palms on my dress, I hurried ahead to catch up, focusing solely on the way my cousin's long, golden hair swished across her back with each step.

"The music is lovely," an older woman whispered to her companion as I passed.

Was it?

The classical notes that played across the stereo emitted a hiss of static every time the music grew too loud. It hurt my ears, but who was I to critique someone's taste in music?

"Don't the Clymer girls look nice? I haven't seen the youngest in years."

Years? Pretty sure I've never met the woman.

My two older cousins never turned to the side to acknowledge the crowd and I followed their example. I hated the attention. It made my skin crawl.

"It's a good thing it didn't rain."

It never failed to shock me how in moments that were best left silent, people would always find the most inane things to say.

"Which one is which? They all look so similar." A young woman whispered.

I couldn't help myself as I shot her a sharp glare. I knew that somewhere behind me Allison would be entering and the last thing she would want to hear would be those kinds of statements.

After all, it was her sister's funeral.

No two girls looked more similar despite being born eighteen months apart. Now, Allison would age and eventually turn shriveled and grey without her sister. All that was left of Ashley would be the pretty pictures, forever immortalizing her in the prime of her youth.

Looking past my cousin's shoulder, I could see the closed casket at the end of the aisle and my stomach lurched.

"... I remember Matt..."

In front of me, Chrissy almost came to a full stop, but her brother put his arm around her and guided her to walk in front of him.

Not inane. Callous. Their words are callous.

Our family was nothing more than a spectacle – a kind of curiosity – to them. Even as I followed my cousins into the pew at the front of the church, I could still feel the stares of our neighbors and friends.

I focused on relaxing my features, etching what I hoped was a look of solemn placidity as I sat down and met eyes with my brother. Unlike mine, his normally shining blue eyes were red and puffy. He'd been crying the same as the rest of them.

I couldn't join them.

Even with all of the sniffling around me, I couldn't bring myself to do it. To me, crying was no different than acquiescence.

"Connie, are you doing okay?" he asked me quietly as Allison and her parents went to the casket to speak to the pastor. I couldn't take my eyes away from the familiar scene.

I watched as they each touched Ashley's casket, caressing it as though it were her. They touched it because they couldn't touch her – not even her cool, papery skin.

Her body is too mangled for that.

"I'm fine," I answered in a tight voice. My heart hammered in my chest as the music swelled. I squeezed the bench underneath me, digging my nails in as I tried to settle my breathing. The pastor touched Ashley's casket with insincere reverence and I found I couldn't swallow – I couldn't breathe.

Raising my eyes to the stained glass, I listened only to the gentle tune of a bird's song from outside the church as it echoed in the hallowed place. I knew as clearly then as I did two years ago.

Ashley's death was no accident.

And I'm next.