Flower Girl

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

     It had been three full days since the death of Braxton, and I couldn't get my head around the fact that he was truly gone. Sitting at the cemetery with various members of Braxton's family was unnerving. I felt like an outsider in an intimate situation, but I needed to say good-bye. Instead of a traditional wake and viewing of his body, followed by a funerla they were meshed together at the family's private cemetery. 

      I closed my eyes during the various eulogies spoken at the foot of Braxton's casket, a closed casket nonetheless, and envisioned the last night I had seen him. After he took me into the room at his club, nothing had happened. Nothing I could remember at least. I had spent hours awake, my mind racing trying to conjure up some sort of distant memory that could tell me what exactly happened that day. The kiss I barely remember still lingered on my lips to this day. I had never been kissed with such passion -- that much I remember. Before anything went father, something happened. My mind was foggy at this part, it's when everything started to go black. Braxton was called out to deal with some supposed rowdy customer, and Braxton ordered someone to guard the room, and they easily slipped into the shadows. The last thing I remember was pain. A pain so unbearable I sit in my seat at the funeral and shudder at the thought. The next day, I was awoken by the bright sun streaming through the curtains in a hotel room, one that must've cost at least five hundred a night. When I rolled over to check the time, I caught a glimpse of Brooklyn's family hotel logo. This hotel room certainly wasn't cheap, that's for sure. 

     The last time I heard from Braxton was a text that same morning. I was getting out of bed, my head pounding with a headache and discovered random bruises dotting my arms and stomach. I immediately ran to the bathroom to vomit, forgetting that Braxton had even messaged me. When I got around to checking my phone, the notification from him  was a simple I'm sorry. I wish I got to ask him what he was sorry for, to tell him I enjoyed the kiss although I could barely remember how he made me feel. I never texted him back, I was angry. Angry with myself, with him, with the universe -- I wasn't sure. I had felt nothing but rage. 

     I didn't open my eyes until we were instructed to gather around to watch the casket get lowered into the ground. The pastor told us that it would be good to say any last goodbyes before he would be truly gone forever. So, when I opened my eyes to find the headstone set and finalized into the dirt, reality crashed down on me. I didn't say goodbye. I stayed in my seat, watching his family that I hadn't known from Adam weep and cry, my heart aching for them. I tried to keep my head low, and my face lowered to avoid eye contact with any curious or quizzical members of his family seeing as it was such a small and personal ceremony.

     I stayed well after the cemetery's grounds keepers had finished packing the dirt back into the ground, sealing the barrier between the living and the dead. I walked over to his headstone, careful to avoid the freshly excavated dirt and brushed a finger over William Braxton Pierce carved into the stone. I placed the sunflowers I had been holding onto tight during the ceremony and gave my fingers a kiss before laying them on top of his grave. I stood up with a heavy pain in my heart, aching for everything and anyone. 

     "Wipe your tears, flower girl." A resonant voice said behind me. It was almost in a mocking, condescending tone. 

      The late spring wind assaulted me, whipping my hair around my head as I tried to see who was being an insensitive asshole in my time of mourning. My heart stopped when my gaze landed on him. Was I going crazy? Did I miss someone I barely knew that much that my mind was conjuring up games and tricks. He looked like he could be related to Braxton, the shape of their facial features were close. The similarities lessened as I stood there motionless and shocked, staring at him like he had just insisted I drop dead. Giving him once last look over,  the man standing six feet away from me had raven kissed hair that was perfectly styled and wore an incredibly bored facial expression. He was absolutely gorgeous, it was unfair.