Burying the Dead

It is a bright summer day, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining brightly. It is a big contrast to what this day is. It’s Hannah’s funeral.

It is quite a big event, flowers everywhere at the chapel and a whole lot of people. Looking at each of them one by one, none of them cared for Hannah. I see a bunch of her so-called friends and a whole lot of our mom’s friends. I look at them with disdain and I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat forming, as I see my mom demurely accept condolences from her people looking so distraught followed by her fake sniffles. I know for a fact she never cared for her. It’s disgusting. I cannot take it any longer. As the funeral reaches its end. I leave the chapel and drive back to the mansion.

As I approach the door, I stop and get a cigarette from my coat pocket, and light it up. I breathe in deeply and savor the calmness it brings me. It is a breath of fresh air for me, when I close my eyes all I see is Hannah’s bloodied body dressed in her white nightgown, lying down in the tub swimming in a red sea. It was such a gruesome sight, but I have to give it to her she knows how to end her life with a flare. But the events following it are equally, as disturbing and disgusting. My mom and my siblings were furious. They did not shed a tear but instead, they were thinking about how this turn of events will tarnish the family business’ reputation and what will all their business partners and friends will think of them. A swarm of journalists and PR people come to the house so they can talk about “risk management.”

In the background, I pretend to care but deep inside all I wanted was to scream at them! I wanted to punch my mom's face with so much anger and disdain brewing inside me. Hannah was dead. Hannah was fucking dead! And nobody cared. My heart was breaking inside me. My fucking best friend and sister died and all they cared about is how people will think about us. Hell, let them see what kind of monsters we are. Let the people dissect how a family with money acts, how the inner workings of a carefully created image are all a bunch of lies and hate. I couldn't take it. I shudder with the cold feeling that crept through me as I remember that horrid day.

Somehow as I breathe in the smoke I felt a cold touch on my left hand. It was so subtle I'm not even sure if it happened. I ignore it for a while when I heard a whisper with my left ear and it said "Matthew..." My whole body froze. I know that voice. I can never be wrong for it was the voice of my sister, the only problem is, she was supposed to be at the cemetery, in a coffin, and blissfully dead. It was Hannah's voice. 

Shaken by the thought of Hannah, I hurriedly threw my cigarette and stepped inside the house. It was eerily quiet and cold. Still shaken I kicked my shoes and settled on the sofa in the sitting room. Lying on top of the coffee table was a bunch of magazines. I leaned forward to get one, anything that can alter my thoughts away from Hannah. I grabbed one of those Housekeeping magazines and as I was flipping the pages to a bunch of articles ranging from how to make DIY arts and crafts to an article about depression, I stopped and began reading the article and as I finished the first page and was about to flip to the next, a white envelope fell. I naturally hunched and look down to get it when I saw what was scrawled on the envelope - it was my name in cursive handwriting that I know all too well. My heart was beating so fast as I grab it. Suddenly the room felt so cold and yet I could feel beady sweat forming on my forehead.

I'm gonna be sick. I hurriedly stood up, grabbed my coat, and went down the hall to the stairs, and turned to the left corner going to my room. I locked the door, went straight to bed, and lay down, the letter still firmly in my hands. I lifted it and looked at it. I know the only logical thing to do is to open it and read. But my head was pounding and my heart was racing. Deep in my veins I know reading this will not do me any good. 

I take one look at it again, I tried to tear the side to open it as I made a small tear. I felt something stopping me from within my body. I dropped it and as it fell to the floor I look at it with teary eyes. What could have Hannah written in there? Why me? 

I grabbed the blanket as I feel the cold air in the room I looked at the windows and they were shut closed. I don't know where the draft was coming from. All I know is that this eerie feeling is nagging me and I just want to shake it off. I held the blanket tight and I covered my whole body up to my chin and somehow it calmed me. I leaned to my side and took a glance at the floor praying and hoping that the letter is not there anymore. But it's still there my name written in red, and suddenly I see Hannah's face staring at me and mocking me. I wanted to shout but I cannot. I closed my eyes and suddenly darkness overcame me.

I slowly open my eyes as I felt consciousness slowly creeping at me and waking me from my slumber. I felt disoriented. What happened? I can barely remember, but one thing I know was that I have a letter in my hands, I looked at my left hand and saw it there. I was clutching it, my name still scrawled on the envelope but the ink was smudged. It wasn't a dream. It was real.