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"ASHES TO ASHES,"
The trees scattered in the Evergreen Memorial Park moved with the wind. Their leaves rustled loud and in succession, like a stadium's applause. Like mockery. It still, however, was not louder than the blood-curdling screams.
"Dust to dust."
Ms Morgan was wailing. Her voice ripped through the air with an indomitable type of grief that sucked everyone around her into it like a deep, infinite black hole. Despite the funeral's processions almost being over, she showed no signs of stopping, either. How could she? It was as impulsive as vomit and just as vile, acidic and burning. William Morgan knew she would not stop for a long time. There was no end to something like this. If anything, the end had already come and now she was stuck rolling forever like credits in a sea of all-black.
Across the grass, Mr Carson held onto a trembling Aspen and Ben clutched an unopened bag of M&M's in his fist. No one really listened to the pastor's words and William supposed the man dressed sharply standing over the six-foot-deep hole might have been used to things like that, especially on days like this. Everyone's attention was undeniably elsewhere. For William Morgan, however, it was on the bark of a nearby tree or the unkempt grave of a stranger. Anywhere but here.
Because while his mother had crumpled helplessly to the ground, writhing in the ruddy dirt as if she was pleading for hell to give her back her daughter because heaven would not listen, Will was keeping himself upright. At times his shoulders did feel a little weak and he had to constantly catch himself before his knees fully gave way but he remained firm and tall for his mother. For Naomi too. If he let his mind come back here, to the present where his sister was being put into the ground forever, he was sure he would completely come undone.
A part of William wished his father was here, though. He couldn't help but picture his mother tearing away into his chest, muffling her anguish into a crisp dress shirt and tie. But he wasn't here and that would never happen. Ms Morgan would never allow him to even set foot in their home much less here. She would probably take her half-empty bottle of Chardonnay that she has recently been clutching to more often and throw it at his head. Or maybe smash it against their perfectly furnished dining table and press the sharpened glass against his throat.
William bent his ankles back and forth.
They hadn't heard much from Norman Morgan at all since, really. Since that day, the Riverside Police Department caught him and refused to let him go. It was an end to their 'Kidnapped girl' story they had been running for the past few weeks. Only, for Norman Morgan and everyone here at the funeral, Ms Morgan, Mr Carson, The Riverside Dance Academy, Ben, Aspen and Will, it was more than just a story. It was their life. But notwithstanding, it was still, irrefutably, the end.
