clothes for that matter. It was years of living on a strict budget, never deviating and buying crazy things. When the tears threatened to topple down her cheeks, she held out the money
and lifted her head to look at the man in the black suit that sat across from her. “Here,” she spoke weakly.
The man reached out and tried taking the cheque.
Kianna’s fingers were frozen against it. “Ms. Sanderson, you have to let it go.”
“Yeah,” she whispered and her fingers released the piece of paper. As the meeting progressed, Kianna signed all the necessary papers, then stood, shook his hand again. Thanking him, she turned and left the funeral home. She walked by the secretary’s desk without as much as a smile. Shoving out the double doors, Kianna quickly slid on her sunglasses. The tears broke their borders and toppled down he cheeks then. She let them have their way because soon she would be in the privacy of her car.
But they were only silent tears as she climbed into her ten-year-old car and sped off toward her small house near the Rogue. She didn’t turn the radio on or even the air conditioner. She had to get home quickly. Her fingers tightened against the steering wheel until her knuckles were a strange, pale brown colour. Her back wasn’t even touching the back of her seat. Her foot was on the gas and she was going. Getting home then wasn’t in any fashion of following directions, but by automation.
When she finally burst through her front door, she slammed it shut behind her, slid the dead bolt and the chain in place and dropped her purse and keys to the ground. Stumbling into the living room like a zombie, she sat down slowly against the edge of her sofa. Removing her sunglasses, it slipped from her fingers against the floor and she didn’t care.
Doubling over, Kianna buried her face into her hands as her control disappeared. She sobbed. Her body shook violently. She cried not only for herself, because of everything then. She cried for the loss of her mother to the hand of nature. She cried for her father’s utter stupidity in killing himself. But most importantly, she cried because she was alone and her dreams were gone. She had nothing left.
Kianna cried until she was literally out of tears. Her throat burnt, her eyes stung and her ribs hurt from heaving. When that happened, she stopped sobbing, dried her eyes with the back of her hands and stood. Walking up the stairs of her small house, she stripped down, turned on the shower and sat in the tub beneath the downpour of water.
It was four long days later and it seemed as though every last person from her mother’s church and her father’s workplace were at her house. Her friend, Jace, had helped her because
Kianna’s hands were shaking too hard to do much of anything on her own that day. She was dressed in a long black dress with her short hair gelled down neatly. Her stocking clad legs carried her through the room, greeting people, accepting their deepest condolences for the loss of her dear, dear mother and her poor father .
Some of the people, Kianna knew were there to eat the food because she’d never met them before. Still, she stapled a smile to her face and continued with her head held high. But it was really hard. Someone had just spilled juice on the sofa and before that, she tried to rest her feet only to sit in what looked to be salsa on a chair. They were really starting to irritate the hell out of her. Kianna turned to pick up another tray.
“We’re out of chicken fingers,” Jace MacBride whispered. “I’m gonna run down to the corner store and pick some up.”
“Don’t leave me alone with these people!” Kianna whispered fiercely. “If we’re out of chicken fingers, then we’re out. They’ll just have to eat something else or get the hell out.”
“The store is just around the corner and I’m driving so I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone,” Jace arched a brow.
“I’m serious, Jace. I think
and lifted her head to look at the man in the black suit that sat across from her. “Here,” she spoke weakly.
The man reached out and tried taking the cheque.
Kianna’s fingers were frozen against it. “Ms. Sanderson, you have to let it go.”
“Yeah,” she whispered and her fingers released the piece of paper. As the meeting progressed, Kianna signed all the necessary papers, then stood, shook his hand again. Thanking him, she turned and left the funeral home. She walked by the secretary’s desk without as much as a smile. Shoving out the double doors, Kianna quickly slid on her sunglasses. The tears broke their borders and toppled down he cheeks then. She let them have their way because soon she would be in the privacy of her car.
But they were only silent tears as she climbed into her ten-year-old car and sped off toward her small house near the Rogue. She didn’t turn the radio on or even the air conditioner. She had to get home quickly. Her fingers tightened against the steering wheel until her knuckles were a strange, pale brown colour. Her back wasn’t even touching the back of her seat. Her foot was on the gas and she was going. Getting home then wasn’t in any fashion of following directions, but by automation.
When she finally burst through her front door, she slammed it shut behind her, slid the dead bolt and the chain in place and dropped her purse and keys to the ground. Stumbling into the living room like a zombie, she sat down slowly against the edge of her sofa. Removing her sunglasses, it slipped from her fingers against the floor and she didn’t care.
Doubling over, Kianna buried her face into her hands as her control disappeared. She sobbed. Her body shook violently. She cried not only for herself, because of everything then. She cried for the loss of her mother to the hand of nature. She cried for her father’s utter stupidity in killing himself. But most importantly, she cried because she was alone and her dreams were gone. She had nothing left.
Kianna cried until she was literally out of tears. Her throat burnt, her eyes stung and her ribs hurt from heaving. When that happened, she stopped sobbing, dried her eyes with the back of her hands and stood. Walking up the stairs of her small house, she stripped down, turned on the shower and sat in the tub beneath the downpour of water.
It was four long days later and it seemed as though every last person from her mother’s church and her father’s workplace were at her house. Her friend, Jace, had helped her because
Kianna’s hands were shaking too hard to do much of anything on her own that day. She was dressed in a long black dress with her short hair gelled down neatly. Her stocking clad legs carried her through the room, greeting people, accepting their deepest condolences for the loss of her dear, dear mother and her poor father .
Some of the people, Kianna knew were there to eat the food because she’d never met them before. Still, she stapled a smile to her face and continued with her head held high. But it was really hard. Someone had just spilled juice on the sofa and before that, she tried to rest her feet only to sit in what looked to be salsa on a chair. They were really starting to irritate the hell out of her. Kianna turned to pick up another tray.
“We’re out of chicken fingers,” Jace MacBride whispered. “I’m gonna run down to the corner store and pick some up.”
“Don’t leave me alone with these people!” Kianna whispered fiercely. “If we’re out of chicken fingers, then we’re out. They’ll just have to eat something else or get the hell out.”
“The store is just around the corner and I’m driving so I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone,” Jace arched a brow.
“I’m serious, Jace. I think
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