NINETY-FOUR.

FOUR DAYs LATER.

The air smells like unclean, wet soil, and the gusting wind whips around us, creating whirlpools that dance in the open air.

Droplets of tears fall from my eyes like raindrops falling from the cloudy sky, which reminds me of a certain pair of stormy blue eyes that I miss gazing into.

The same pair of eyes that haunt me in my sleep and tortures my every waking moment.

Today, alongside Nic and Jax, I stand in front of my father's freshly dug grave, listening to the priest's concluding prayer.

I feel numb.

Void of any real emotions, zilch, nothing!

Though my eyes are bloodshot and a small stream of tears flows down my flushed cheeks, my mind and heart have closed themselves off from me emotionally.

I don't even remember arriving here or how we got to this point.

I twirl the single red rose in my hand that has a single thorn peeking out of the stem, carelessly, I puncture my finger against it hoping to feel something.

But I don't, I just frown, watching the crimson liq