A Most Somber Affair (Memorial)

[Denizen of Ashwick]

It was cold. Peculiar for an August day, which had ordinarily been so ragged and humid. It was easy to blame the occasion, which so somber in its affairs seemed to suck the very life out of everything in its wake. In some ways, it was almost as if the Church itself was in its own separate little reality, where the sun did not shine and time seemed to slow to a crawl. The clouds overcast on the entrance of the church, spreading its shadowy tendrils like aching malaise through flesh. Not a touch of earth was spared from its embrace, and all around every person who arrived that day would be a slight sense of dread and, perhaps, a bit of foreboding.

The Minister was standing at the wide, double door oak entrance, wearing his appropriate robes and holding a Bible in his hand. Beside him, dressed to the nines and staring forward into the horizon, were Mr. and Mrs. Turner. Their limbs were entangled, and naturally the taller standing Mr. Turner was the support beam for the weaker woman, who every so often dabbed her eyes with handkerchief, as if she were almost ashamed to have people witness her grief. Her eyes were severely bloodshot, though slightly glazed over, as if she weren’t here at all… and perhaps she wasn’t. Stoic as ever, Mr. Turner waited and watched with a stony and solemn expression on his face. He hadn’t seemed to have cried once at all, and perhaps in some ways even looked… bored.

Soon, after minutes of waiting, they straightened themselves out as approaching cars in the distance were coming nearer and nearer, no doubt holding the passengers that would be joining them in last farewell to a boy lost too soon. He would be buried in the cemetery adjacent to the church itself. Mr. and Mrs. Turner had already picked a spot, a nice, grassy knoll overlooking the other graves below it, almost as if they were placing Ben in a position above them all. Perhaps they were.

Inside the church laid the honored guest himself, sleeping soundly in his casket made of maple and ivory. He was locked away from the world, unseen by any and all who would enter into the sanctuary. He wouldn’t have wanted to be seen like this, cold and inflicted with unnatural stillness. The guests would be spared his hollow stare, and would instead remember the happy, smiling face in the picture that stood next to his coffin, an exact and perfect replica of the boy all of them had known and, perhaps, even loved.

As the guests would enter the Church, they would be greeted by the three people standing at the entrance, given a program, and be asked to sit wherever they pleased.

[[Posts are first-come, first-serve basis. After everyone has posted once, the order they show up will determine the post order for the rest of the thread. Enjoy the game.]]

[calliope gordon]

“Do I have to talk to the Turners?” Callie asked, a frown forming on her lips as she stared out from the car window. She could see the church nearing on the horizon, and an overwhelming sense of dread was welling up inside the pit of her stomach.

“It’s customary to wish them condolences,” her mother answered, glancing over her shoulder and to the back seat. “But you aren’t obligated to have a prolonged conversation, no.”

Callie let out a soft sigh and straightened out the skirt of her black silk dress. “I feel like a jerk for lying to them.”

“How did you lie?” her father piped in, looking at her briefly through the rearview window as he closely followed the slow moving vehicle in front of them. He looked slightly irritated.

“I didn’t even like Ben,” Callie repeated for about the tenth time that day. “Telling them I miss him--”

“You’re not telling them you miss him,” her mother interjected, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re telling them that you’re sorry for their loss. Don’t you feel bad that they lost a son?”

“Of course I do!” Callie bleated, lurching forward in her seat slightly. However, seconds later, she calmed herself and fell back into the velvet-like cushions of the car seat. “But I don’t know, this feels awkward. I don’t even feel like I should be here. It’s like I’m desecrating his grave or something.”

“You’re doing nothing of the sort,” her mother replied. “You’re supporting a family that needs plenty of it. This is good for you. I’ve explained it to you a million times now, Calliope.”

Callie winced at the sound of her name. It was customary for her parents to use the full pronunciation, but this time the tone of voice forewent all notions of affection, and hearing it made her heart sting in shame. She constrained herself to quiet, not making another sound as they approached the church and her father found a place to park. When his father exited, he rounded the vehicle and opened the doors for both the girls sitting inside. Callie slipped out and straightened her skirt again before adjusting her curls, as her eyes gazed toward the church. She caught the figures standing there immediately and as her parents went to approach she wanted nothing more than to tarry longer in order to prolong the encounter with the Turners.

Callie followed sheepishly behind her parents, much like a five year old would shadow her mother, decidedly taciturn. She watched as other people exited from their cars and shuffled toward the church, but saw no one she recognized. This would be unbearable, wouldn’t it?

“Richard, Abigail,” she heard her mother and father murmuring in a somber tone. “We’re so sorry we’re having to meet you like this. How are you?”

Richard upturned his nose, almost as if he were offended by the question; though, it seemed it was not due to any insensitivity, but rather at how painfully obvious the answer to that question was. Abigail turned the attention away from Richard briefly, smiling a little as she took Callie’s mother’s hand in hers.

“We’re surviving,” the woman answered simply.

Richard turned his body, exposing the young girl behind him, as he waved his arm to force Callie to approach. The girl simpered, staring up into the weepy eyes of the Turners. She didn’t know what to say, or what to feel, but the dread that collected like lead in the pit of her stomach seemed to grow bigger and heavier, almost garnering enough strength to knock her down to the floor.

“This is our daughter, Calliope,” her father introduced. “She knew Ben in school and wanted to come help support you.”

Richard was staring at her firmly, and the intimidation of his eyes was enough to force her heart to seemingly stop beating briefly. “Ah… yes, Calliope, was it?” the man asked, and Callie nodded feebly in response. “Yes, I remember Ben mentioning you a few times.”

Though, he never elaborated on what Ben had ever said. Callie knew exactly why.

The silence in between them all was broken by the Minister offering her parents their programs and directing them inside. Callie dragged behind again, smiling at the Turner’s briefly before murmuring in a small voice: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Quickly, she forced herself inside. It was hard to ignore the casket down the aisle, but Callie did her best to try, as she maneuvered herself to where her parents had seated themselves and placed herself nearby. Then, she turned, glancing over the pews and toward the entrance to watch to see if anyone she knew was coming in. Every so often her eyes would wander toward the centerpiece, the giant coffin that hovered just in Callie’s area of vision, and a small, heavy shiver would crawl down the length of her spine.

[silas lindstrom]

Silas had always liked the cold, but today it seemed to hit a little too close to the mark, underlining his mood and putting an exclamation point beside the chilling thoughts swirling inside his head. He'd never handled sudden death very well, and Ben's abrupt end was no exception.

Pulling up on a motorcycle wasn't helpful either, especially seeing as it was a beat-up hand-me-down, but he didn't own a car. At least it isn't bright red, he mused dryly. Turning off the engine, he lifted off his helmet and slouched over the front of the bike, resting his forearms on the handlebars and looking over his shoulder at the imposing silhouette of the church. A few families filed into through the doors, stopping to acknowledge two people on the steps, who must be Ben's parents. Beyond were dew-covered graves and wilting flowers resting beside the names of the dead, carved deep into the stone. The morning light lent the scene a soft glow, nature determined to be beautiful despite the sombre occasion.

With a heavy sigh, Silas pushed off the seat and stood, brushing himself off a bit and dithering uncertainly. Would it be rude to bring in a motorcycle helmet? Probably not, but, then again, it wasn't really appropriate either. How does one go about finding the proper etiquette for these things? Obviously he couldn't just leave it there with his bike, but he didn't have anywhere to put it.

Feeling stupid, he resigned himself to a bit of humiliation and walked briskly away, his boot heels clunking dully against the pavement. As he approached the stairs, the minister offered him a program, which he took graciously, and Silas turned his attention to Ben's parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I'm sorry for your loss,” he told them, shaking hands with Mr. Turner. The other man was stoic, but nodded absently at Silas' words. He wished he could say something more meaningful, but didn't feel like he had the right to, or even the ability. With a sympathetic glance toward Mrs. Turner, Silas left them to themselves. He was certain they didn't need any more empty words of comfort, especially from a man who barely knew their son.

Entering the church, he quickly found a seat in the back. There weren't many present as of yet, but even just after he arrived several more people came in. The casket adorned the front of the room, eerily lit by cool foggy light streaming from the windows and covered in a myriad of flowers. He took in the scene with a slight frown, feeling the dread sink into his stomach. In a strange mood, he pulled out his phone and set it to silent before looking around for Oliver. He didn't seem to be present yet, but Silas hoped he wouldn't be long, since he'd at least feel less awkward having a friend there. With nothing else to do, he stared down at his program and waited, almost wanting the whole thing to be over already.

[eloise darmody]

Eloise had been uncharacteristically silent all morning. Not a word uttered as she ate, showered or dressed. Her parents, were also similarly quiet. They spoke to each other in soft murmurs, and Eloise could not make out what the words were, only the tones of their voices. Which were slightly worried, though not overly so. Eloise and Ben had been good friends, but she had seen death before - had faced it head on, they were not overly concerned for her.

She slid in to a black dress, black tights and patent black pumps. Her hair had been pulled back in to a bun at the base of her neck with a few tendrils falling in her face. Eloise stood, staring at herself in the mirror, thinking that she had gone to too many funerals. In her cancer support group, several of the people had died, and Eloise had attended those funerals. She didn’t hate them, as she had always thought that death was a part of life, still they were sad and emotionally exhausting. Especially when it was someone important to you. Especially when it was Ben.

Eloise remained silent for the car ride there, sinking in to the seat of her father’s expensive car, her gaze fixed out the window. Normally a sunny person, Ellie was feeling rather stormy that day and her parents said nothing about it. When they arrived at the church, Ellie exited the car, the slamming of the door sounding extremely loud in the quiet parking lot. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she followed her parents toward the church entrance.

Her parents hugged Mr. and Mrs. Turner, murmuring again - something that Eloise could not hear. The Darmody’s didn’t spend much time with the Turners. The families were very close, and Angela and Jackson Darmody had spent a lot of time with the Turners already - comforting them and they didn’t need this time to once again express their sorrow at the couples lost. When it was her turn to talk to Ben’s parents, Eloise hugged each of them tightly. ”I’m sorry.” She told them, as she pulled away from Ben’s dad. The couple didn’t respond and Eloise slipped in to the church after her parents.

Like her parents, Eloise had been over to the Turner’s house in the few short days following Ben’s death - and she had made her feelings known. She didn’t need to spend a lot of time talking. As she entered, Eloise scanned the still mostly empty church for people she knew and then Eloise spotted Callie. Walking down the aisle, she slid in to the pew next to her new friend. Eloise had no desire to sit with her parents. As she slid in next to Callie, Eloise caught sight of the coffin and she quickly averted her gaze.

” Hi Callie. Ellie offered, with a slight smile - keeping her voice soft.

[connor peters]

Connor stared blankly at his clock, he had been up and dressed several hours before the service even began. He had been dreading the moment he needed to leave. Death isn't something he dealt with very easily and it was always a heavy burden when someone he knew passed. Connor saw a lot of death in the cancer ward his mother was in. With cancer they have support groups to help you through the grieving processes and to prepare you for the inevitable. There was no way for him to prepare or harden himself for Ben's sudden death.

When the time came for him to leave, Connor stood and straightened out his cheap black suit. Heading down the stairs he saw his father, Ronald, standing by the door. “You ready, son,” he asked in a hushed tone. Connor nodded silently as he made his way out the front door to his father's truck. The ride was mostly quiet apart from some small talk about how weird the weather was.

As the truck pulled into the church parking lot Connor sighed. Ronald stepped out of the truck and looked back at Connor, “Take all the time you need, son.” Connor watched as his father walked up to the Turners and offer his condolences before jumping out of the truck and following him. Connor approached the Turners slowly. “I'm sorry for your loss,” he said in a quiet quivering voice, ”Hey... uh... if there is anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

As Connor entered the church, he scanned the room for any of his friends. He spotted Ellie sitting beside Callie. He wondered why she was even here since he recalled her not liking or getting along with Ben. Connor just put the thought aside as he moved to the pew behind the two girls and quietly sat down not wanting to interrupt them.

[maryann hastings]

It was a long drive, or at least it felt that way, with nothing but silence and pain to fill that car. It had been a shock of outstanding proportion to Maryann. Finding out that Ben had passed away. It was almost unreal in a way. Like some sort of nightmare that she just couldn't wake up from. That's exactly what it was, a nightmare, and how could things get any worse? Poor Ben. He was such a good boy. Always so hard working and full of potential. It was with a heavy heart that she made that drive and once she'd arrived she nearly had to beg for the will to move out of that seat, but it was important to her that she pay her respects.

The cold air had Maryann tugging that black duffle coat tighter around her body. It seemed to her that even nature knew that a tragedy had occurred. The weather was always good at knowing how to condition itself, perhaps this all might be easier if she did as well, but that was neither here nor there. It felt like death was present upon the land, hovering around like some sort of sadist, mocking them for what they had lost.

It felt as though it would fry her nerves as she walked along the way leading up toward the entrance. It seemed fitting that the service would be as large as the impact that one boy had on the community was and Maryann could not help but to wonder how they would all move forward in the days the come. The sight of the double-oak doors might have been impressive if it weren't for the priest that stood there. Reminding people that someone had left this world to join the afterlife.

The pain within Maryann knotted up to the point that she felt as though she were going to be sick as she saw them. Mr. Turner, Mrs. Turner, Standing beside the priest. The sight of their tangled limbs, the tears, and the embrace drew Maryann into a place within her mind that made her want to throw a fit of her own. The pain she felt was nothing in comparison to their's, she had to remind herself of that, this wasn't about her or them. This was about the loss of a young life that did not deserve the fate he'd been given.

Maryann took in a deep breath, smoothing the end of her black pencil skirt as it barely peeked from beneath that duffle-coat's end, and then she would walk forward. Her heels clicked and clacked lightly against the ground as she walked. Though in her head she prayed she would have the strength not to break down. Maryann had always had a sensitive heart. A few loose strands of her hair fell in her face as she walked, but she didn't seem to mind. As she reached the couple near the priest her eyes would give them both a gentle look. Speaking softly toward them both, "I'm sorry for your loss. I hope you're both holding up alright. "

Maryann would gently give her greeting, taking the program as it was given to her, and softly she would speak as if afraid to disturb the dead. "If you need anything at all please don't hesitate to contact me. I wish you both well. " she managed out. There. She'd done it. That wasn't so bad...right? Mrs. Turner looked a mess as usual, but the way Mr. Turner looked had her worried. Perhaps he was in shock of what had happened. Though she would then turn to continue the path into the church.

She would sit somewhere near the front, on the inside of the aisle, where it was that she would not feel too overwhelmed. There it was...the casket. Maryann stared at it with disbelief, as if it was finally sinking in, that this was no nightmare. This is reality.

[oliver dixon]

As Oliver dressed for the funeral, he realized that the last time he wore this suit was to his own father's memorial service, and it seemed to hit him a bit hard that Ben Dixon had died so many years ago. Time was certainly not on the side of Mortals. He decided that he would call his mother once the funeral was over, but right now he honestly did not have the time necessary if he wanted to get to the church at a respectable time.

The drive was quiet as he didn't even have the radio on, so all Oliver could hear was the cool wind breaking across the windshield and around the rest of his car. Oliver slowed down to wait for another few cars to park before he could get to a parking spot of his own. He took a moment to turn off his car, and reached towards the passenger seat for his cane, and he took a moment to fit it together properly after opening his car door. With the cooler weather, while he preferred the cooler temperature, his leg tended to ache more and protested to walking without help. Of course, pain meds helped, but today he also needed his cane. With a slight grunt, he stood and closed his car door and locked it before starting towards the entrance to the church.

Oliver stood in line before finally hobbling to Mr. and Mrs. Turner, "I am so very sorry for your loss. Your family is in my thoughts." he said with a small nod, shook Mr. Turner's hand before he walked into the church. He took a program and his eyes scanned the sanctuary before focusing on the back of Silas' head and moved to slide into the back row to sit next to his friend. He adjusted himself again in order to straighten out his leg before he could relax in the pew. He glanced over at Silas, gave a very small, very quick smile before looking forward. Like everyone else in the church, Oliver hoped the service would pass by quickly to allow everyone to be more at ease.

[alexandra walker]

An eery silence filled the Walker home, only the sound of heels clicking and the pouring of coffee resonating. Letting out a quiet, woeful sigh Alexandra leaned against the table. She took a sip of her coffee, her bloodshot eyes fixated on the floor. The moment she anguished drew near. Alex sat the coffee down, resting her hand on her forehead. She knew if she thought about it too much, she would have a breakdown. The thought was far difficult for her to fathom. The funeral of her first and only boyfriend.

The very thought made her knees tremble.

Her mother was visiting her husband in Boston. Alex was thankful her mother would not be around for her grieving. Mrs. Walker had a hostile manner when it came to Ben, remembering how boys like Ben treated her daughter before they moved to Ashwick. Any consolation her mother would have given would have been coated with a malign thankfulness that he was gone.

Alex prepared for the funeral in silence. She draped herself in a black dress, jewels of the same color dangling from from her ears, clinking quietly amid the silence. She frowned and looked over herself in the mirror, hoping that wherever Ben wound up, he was watching her dress up for him one last time." She grabbed her clutch, hurrying out to her car. The trip to the church was as silent and depressing as the beginning of her morning. As she parked, it was almost as if her heart stopped. She crossed her arms across her stomach as she stared out the window. This was it.

The ordinarily lively church was overwhelmed by despair, the entire town engulfed in a presence of doom. A deathly breeze send chills down her spine. She absolutely dreaded the thought of entering the church; so many tears and so much sorrow. Alex had done her best to erase pain from her life, and here she was, about to walk into a room full of agony. Each step felt like a dagger to her heart. She wasn't ready -- *god*, she wasn't ready for this. Now face to face with his parents, her heart sank as she stared back into his mother's devitalized eyes. Her jaw clenched.

"Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I... I'm..." She choked up, the words stuck in her throat. This was the first time she had talked to them since his death. Mrs. Turner grabbed her, desperately pulling her into her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Turner." Alex finally stammered. She released her, tears still forming in the corners of her eyes. Mr. Turner offered her a nod, his eyes like steel. Hurrying past them, Alex entered the church. She felt eyes locking on her - the long-term girlfriend of the now deceased. Her eyes sweapt through the room, despondingly hunting for a seat. Upon noticing a friend, Connor, she quietly took her place next to him, giving a respectful nod.

Alex's eyes locked onto the coffin. Her grip on the clutch tightened. There he was. Ben. Her boyfriend.

[Deleted]

The hush that befell Ashwick on the day of Ben’s memorial service seemed to resonate a frigid lethargy through it’s inhabitants- even those who hardly knew the victim seemed to stop their daily routines, their shopping lists, their lawn mowing and puerile loitering. As Atticus sat snug within the backseat of the Donahue’s sleek black mercedes, the world just beyond the translucent tinted window seemed too slow, too quiet. The atmosphere matched the morose mood that Atticus had woken up in, his tepid blood spiritless, his coal colored eyes obscured by whatever shadowy hellion that lurked within the corners of his nimble, yet agitated mind. Nothing felt real- not the smell of untouched leather and seabreeze air freshener, not the sound of Hot 100 playing over hearty subwoofers, not even the cool sensation of glass against his skin as he gently pressed brow bone to window, watching it fog up with the warmth of his breath, shrouding the blurred grays and neutrals of Ashwick’s main avenue.

The car stops and Atticus lifts his head. In the front seat the Donahue’s quietly discuss parking to one another. They were quiet people in general, something which Atticus had initially been very grateful for when first moving in. With an exclamation of finality (Atticus had clearly not been listening), their voices settle and the car is set in reverse. Atticus glances down at his tie, suddenly wondering if his choice in Alexander McQueen had been ostentatious for a funeral, and carefully adjusts the article of clothing before decidedly removing it. It was best to not draw much attention to himself. The car ceases movement and the engine is turned off. The familiar ‘ding ding ding’ signals that Mr. Donahue had, once again, forgotten to turn off his headlights.

Outside the church people move in a slow succession, lining up to greet the Turners and offer their condolences. From a distance Atticus can’t help but to think they look a bit like ants all interlined and draped in black. He follows behind his ‘parents’ at a leisurely pace, keeping about a four-foot distance between himself and them. His hands shove themselves in his pockets as they approach the church entrance and he is suddenly filled with dread. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to see these people, or any people for that matter. Approaching the Turners he goes through the appropriate motions, a handshake and a hug, a gravely mumbled expression of rapport before moving past them and politely accepting a program.

Once within the church Atticus stops, stepping away from the aisle and watches his parents take a seat by the front of the service. He pales, the center of the ceremony in plain sullen view was the casket, set in front of a backdrop of stain glass windows and calla lilies. His stomach churns. If he were to look amongst the attendees he would see several familiar faces from school, Eloise being one of them, but he doesn't. In fact, Atticus doesn't budge, his eyes fixated on that lovely finished death bed as sweat beads at his temples.

[calliope gordon]

As the church hall slowly filled with its parishioners, the droning of their voices drowning out the hollow dirge wading in the atmosphere, Callie felt herself grow increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin. It was disturbing in a way to be the one amongst the flock that was not saddled with their shared melancholy, and in many ways it felt discourteous as well; perhaps even more-so knowing she was sharing in these texts with a boy miles away, speaking in a vapid manner about the “poetic justice” surrounding Ben’s demise. It made Callie feel even worse knowing that, in some ways, she agreed. She was about to shy away from her mobile again when she suddenly felt her mother’s pallid fingers wrapping about her wrist, giving her a light squeeze. The look in her mother’s eyes was resolute irritation.

“Put it away.”

Callie’s lips twitched into a frown. “I was doing that right now,” she whimpered, sounding defensive.

Her mother’s fingers relinquished their grip and Callie moved to stuff her phone into her purse. She hadn’t noticed the movement beside her, much less the female voice addressing her, until she sat up once more. The girl was smiling, but not really – it was the brand of apprehensive grin that one always proffered in these occasions when they weren’t really sure of decorum. Were you ever happy to see your friends in such a place? Was it appropriate to smile, or even feel relief, amidst the morose disposition that clung to the air, making it thick… difficult to breathe. She wanted to smile back at Eloise, but the girl’s presence only seemed to supplant Callie’s notion that she was not welcome here. If Ben’s spirit was watching over them now, perusing the guests at this subdued assembly, he would have cast Callie out like a leper.

Callie leaned forward and enclosed Eloise’s body in warm embrace. She held that position for some time, as if she were trying to draw strength from it, as she whispered: “Hey, Ellie.”

Callie hadn’t meant for her eyes to wander, but it was like they were drawn to that certain spot amongst the crowd and the pews. When her eyes locked onto his form, her heart skipped a beat without reason. Mr. Lindstrom was only a few pews behind her, with Mr. Dixon just beside him, both with a solemn and downcast look plastered against their countenances. It was a pitiful sight.

Callie peeled herself away from Ellie, forcing herself to return that same apprehensive smile, as she stood from her seat. “Save my spot, please? I need to go say hello to someone real quick. I’ll be right back, promise.”

Callie maneuvered herself past Ellie’s legs, muttering a few “excuse me”s before she finally reached the end of the aisle. As quietly as she could muster, she sauntered up the edge of the aisle until she was able to move her way in behind the two men. From behind Silas, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck to embrace him. She didn’t know how he would take it, but she could tell that he perhaps needed to be held, even if it was for a short while.

Callie leaned over his left ear, careful not to let Oliver hear what she whispered to Silas next. “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay. I’d really like if we could talk after the service.” Callie moved her head up enough to catch his face, schooling her expression to a pout, before releasing him so she could return to her seat. She settled back in with a sigh and straightened out her skirt once more. She was still stalwart in her decision to keep her eyes averted from the maple casket holding Ben’s mangled corpse, and held a firm gaze at the program in Ellie’s hand.

“Are you going to be alright, Ellie?” the girl asked with a slight edge to her voice.

[silas lindstrom]

The steady stream of people filed past Silas, thankfully ignoring him. He nervously dog-eared the folded paper in his hands. On the front was a picture of Ben, smiling in that carefree way of his, and Silas opened the program, his eyes gliding absently over what songs they were going to sing and who was speaking.

Then, nothing else to do again, he refolded the paper and crinkled it between his fingers. His leg had begun bouncing, restless, when Oliver finally appeared beside him. Despite the fact he'd been waiting very specifically for the other man, Silas was still startled by his appearance and snapped to action to remove the helmet from the seat to make room for him. Embarrassed, he hastily shoved it under the pew as Oliver situated himself.

That done, he turned to his friend. Oliver looked well enough, although today was clearly a cane day. And if he was a bit more solemn than usual, then the setting certainly made it justified. As it was, Silas was offered a brief smile, which he returned readily, his spirits instantly lifted at that small glimmer of kindness. Feeling a bit better about being there, Silas settled himself in the seat, though his hands still worried at the program.

He spotted Callie the moment her eyes landed on him. She made some sort of excuse to her friend before making her way across the room to him, and somehow seeing her willingness to drop her conversation in order to visit him lessened his anxiety about the memorial even further. Callie made her way around and arrived behind him, her arms wrapping around him comfortably for a moment. The dread he'd felt since his arrival subsided for a moment, and he had to admit he really needed a hug, even though he didn't really have anyone to share one with. Callie was the exception; she was normally demonstrative, and, in this instance, he was grateful.

“Of course. I'll be around,” he replied to her inquiry, giving her a questioning look before she walked away to return to her family. Silas glanced momentarily at Oliver and shrugged before returning to staring at his hands.

[eloise darmody]

Eloise leaned in to Callie without hesitation, relishing the feeling of a hug. Hugs were good. She liked them. As Callie peeled herself away and asked Eloise to save her seat, Ellie nodded, her gaze flowing the direction in which Callie traveled, toward Mr. Lindstrom. Eloise though, did not see the hug as her attention was momentarily redirected toward Connor who had slid in to the pew behind her. She wanted to get up and hug Connor too, but didn’t really have the strength at that moment.

Giving him a wan smile, she spun so her body was twisted towards him while she was still seated on the pew. ” Deja vu, huh?” Ellie commented, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Like her, this funeral was not Connor’s first. ”Do you want to come sit up here?” She questioned Connor, gesturing to the other side of her from where Callie had been sitting. She didn’t know if Connor would take her up on the offer, but it would be nice to have him to lean against. They were best friends after all.

Ellie saw Alexandra enter the church, and she offered the girl a small smile, though she wasn’t sure if Alex saw or not. She spun back around towards Callie though and did not see Alexandra settle besides Connor in the pew. As Callie asked her if she was going to be ok, Eloise tilted her head slightly unsure of how to answer the question that had been posed.

” Eventually. But probably not today. “ She answered truthfully.

Eloise glanced down at the program in her lap, and she twisted the paper in her hands - distorting the picture of Ben on the front of the program. Her eyes wondered to the coffin, and then quickly away to her parents who were sitting very close together - probably thanking god that it wasn’t their child up on the altar in a box. ”Are you ok? Eloise questioned, looking back towards Callie. Yes, Ellie knew that Ben and Callie had had their differences, and Ellie knew her friend must be feeling slightly awkward.

[connor peters]

Connor watched as Callie got up and started walking to the other side of the church. His eyes stopped following the moment he saw Ellie start turn in her seat. He returned a polite smile as he rubbed the corner of his left eye. “Yeah,” he quietly replied resting a hand on Ellie's shoulder, “I hope we don't have to come back here for a long time.” He considered her offer for a change in seating but respectfully declined as he turned to followed her gaze to the entering Alex.

Connor readjusted himself as Alex settled in beside him. He nodded back to her as she stared at the coffin of her late boyfriend. He rested a warm hand on hers in an attempt to comfort her. He was unsure if it worked but he knew that in times like these any and every comfort counts. Connor's mouth opened but knot in his throat formed as he quickly tried to find comforting words, hell, any words that would help in this situation. Seeing the sadness in Alex eyes made it impossible for him to say anything meaningful so he just closed his mouth, rubbed his tired teary eyes with his free hand, and looked down at the program in his lap.

Connor shifted in the uncomfortable pew as he silently wished the memorial service would hurry and start. He was perturbed by the thought but as terrible as it was he felt the uncomfortable silence and overall air of sadness far worse.

[maryann hastings]

Watching each person file in was like an out of body experience. She could see herself, feel herself, growing angry with each person that entered the room. The anger she held for whoever had done this to Ben. It was hard to say who could have done it. Ben was a bright boy and had a lot of friends. She was always impressed by his hard work and in a way she felt protective over him because there were so few students like him.

She couldn't imagine the pain that Richard was going through with this. Losing his son while having to deal with his wife's grief on top of her problems. As she looked around the crowd there were things she'd noticed, a hug, a glance. Some things appropriate and some things not, but with all things considered this was not the time nor the place to make mind of it. Everyone dealt with grief in different ways and she was no exception.

Her hand raised with a soft handkerchief and she lightly dabbed at her eyes. The service had not even started yet and already she was feeling it coming. She knew inside that fancy box was the truth of what they were all there for. The pain they were all enduring. Everyone was experiencing it and yet at the same time it was like everything was growing silent. All she could see was that casket and all she knew was what was inside of it.

He wanted to find out what the investigators knew. What they were doing to catch who had done this to Ben. Ben's opinion may not have been as high of her as hers was of him, but kids would be kids. She knew several students that didn't like how hard she was on them and that didn't make her think any less of them.

Her mind was a mess, her thoughts were a tangled web, and all she could do was wrap her arms around herself. holding herself like she had done a lot lately to deal with loss. Her heart was aching with the rest of that town's over loss in various ways. She waited for the service to begin, just as the others did, and she hoped it would begin soon. The wait was painful.

[oliver dixon]

Oliver saw the signs of relief wash over Silas at the simple smile, and he felt somewhat better that he managed to give someone some sort of comfort today. He was not generally one to comfort others, and therefore was not very practiced at it. Therefore, it was good encouragement for himself when someone actually showed benefit from his actions. He shifted a little in his seat as he found a more comfortable position in the pew and looked down at his program to busy himself with reading. It took him a moment to actually take in the words as his eyes skimmed the letters as more of a disconnected jumble at first.

Brought out of his thoughts, Oliver glanced up when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and focused on Callie Gordon for only a brief moment. He had thought she was just passing by, and he nearly went back to reading when he was rather surprised by Silas' extra pair of arms. He was rather shocked to notice that they were, in fact, not Silas' but Callie's. He stared for a moment before looking straight forward and he felt as if he were intruding. Why on earth did he feel that way? He couldn't hear the hushed tones of Callie, but he glanced back when Silas spoke. Oliver's eyes followed Callie as she returned to her seat, and he gave Silas another look and raised his eyebrows slightly as if trying to question what it was. Silas didn't seem to know, but it honestly made him curious. It was strange to say the least, but he tried not to think to heavily on it. After all, he tended to over think things from time to time.

It was a funeral, and therefore comforting others was normal. However, the informal manners threw him off more than anything. Oliver reminded himself that Silas seemed to be oblivious to the reason, and now wasn't really the time to bring up questions that didn't need answers at a funeral. No need to cause even the slightest bit of a scene. Today was difficult enough as it was, but Oliver definitely put what he witnessed in the back of his mind for later thought. He too looked at Silas' hands a moment as if those held the answer, but his eyes shifted again to his program. Perhaps it was best to busy his mind with the words again, and his brain pieced together the sentences and names slowly before he finally gave up and glanced at his watch then back at Silas again and leaned over, "It'll be over soon." he said before looking at the man in front of him who motioned towards the tissue box on the other side of him. Oliver leaned as far as he could and managed to grab it before sitting back up with a small wince and handed the box to the man who handed it on to a woman in front of him. He gave a soft sigh before folding up his program back to the form it started in. Oliver certainly hoped it would be over soon. The room's atmosphere felt so heavy.