3. Chapter Three
I felt numb. I have felt numb ever since I woke up in the hospital two weeks ago and found out that Kathryn and her mother, my godmother, had died. The first thing I had asked was about my best friend and my godmother. All my mom said was "Shhh, baby girl. Go back to sleep." And I did. And every time that I had woke up I had asked the same question and had gotten the same response. That was until I pretended I was asleep so I could listen to my parents' conversation.
"...funeral is next week..."
"...we need to tell her..."
"...doesn't matter... she'll find out..."
That was when I started feeling numb. That was when I found out that my best friend and godmother had died.
Now, we were on the way to their funeral. I was in my wheelchair (that I would have to ride in for the rest of my life- I became paralyzed waist down) wearing the nicest black dress I could find in my closet. The last time I had worn it was two years ago at my grandmother's funeral. Kat was with me then. Giving me comfort. She had lost her grandfather that she was closest to four years ago when she was 13 to cancer.
But this time, she isn't with me. She'll never be with me. Ever. Again. My best friend. Dead. I started to tear up. We weren't even at the funeral home yet. If Kat was here, she would be comforting me. But if she was here, she wouldn't be dead. And I wouldn't be in a wheelchair. If we had only gotten together the weekend before like we had planned... but nope... her mom decided that her family was going on a camping trip... if only we chose to reschedule on a different weekend... if only...
I thought about all the "if only"s until we arrived at the funeral home. I could already see some of Kat's family, friends, and classmates going in for the funeral. I didn't want to talk to anyone. But knowing how I'm the only survivor, people will want to talk to me. My mother helped me out of the car while my dad fumbled around for the wheelchair. As my mom pushed me up the ramp, I couldn't help but think about how quickly our lives had been turned around. One minute me and Kat are acting are usual, crazy selves, and the next, Kat dead and me attending her funeral. It's amazing how life sucks.
My mom steered me into the chapel room in the funeral home where the ceremony was taking place. It was the same room that Kat's grandfather's funeral was. She had specifically asked if I could sit in the front with her and the rest of the family. She had needed so much comfort then.
The first thing I see when we enter the room is the two small boxes on the table in the front. One of them holds Kat's mom. The other, Kat. Just thinking about how they burned her body into ash, how they poured her into this tiny box that her dad picked out, made me start crying. I had to get away. I had to. My best friend HAD to be alive. I HAD to find her. After my mother let go of the handlebars on my chair to talk to someone, I turned around and headed out the door, crying my eyes out. To everyone else, I was that hysterical best friend who is at fault for her best friend's death. At least that is what I had heard people say as I wheeled past them. I just couldn't do this. The rumors had to stop. Kat had to be alive. I needed her. I needed my sister...