7:00P.M., October, 31st
People never truly know you until you die, that’s when your soul really is free of limitations and heavy confines that living cause. Once your soul leaves your body it unfolds to reveal your true nature, whether it may be a deceitful web of nasty little secrets or an honorary existence as pure as gold.
I can’t say I’m astonished or even remotely surprised to be here, witnessing my very own funeral. To be honest, I expected it. But, it still pains me to see them all hurt, especially my older sister, Isabel. We made a blood oath long ago and promised one another that we would never take our own lives, only because our parents took that exact route. But what she doesn’t know is that I didn’t renege on something that meant everything to us. I didn’t commit suicide. My killer is amongst the small somber crowd that is dressed in funeral black and holding towering umbrellas over their heads to keep them dry from the never-ending rain as they all gather around and watch my polished mahogany casket lower into the wet, runny, muddy earth.
There are a few shining stars among the sea of black, though. The people I sincerely and wholeheartedly cared about and loved with every facet of my being. These special stars of mine have on a rainbow symbol somewhere on them, whether it’s a bracelet, earrings, or in Hero’s case, a bowtie. They wear it to represent me, not just because I was a proud gay, but because I loved rainbows. I always thought of the colorful, vivid arch in the sky as a bridge, a bridge that leads to a happier and brighter place.
A bridge was how I died. My killer shoved me off The Suicide Bridge, the tone of steel with a 210-foot drop to jagged rocks and rushing rapids. Besides the abundance of wild cherry trees, meadows, rivers, and cliffs, it’s the biggest attraction we have in Cherry Creek, North Carolina. Countless souls willingly took the leap of death off The Suicide Bridge, and I wasn’t one of them.
It’s kind of ironic though, right?
My poor sister, she’s too blinded by the thick cloud of misery and grief to ever see all the beauty and danger that surrounds her.
Hunter Knight stands a few feet away, fidgeting with the thin multicolored rope bracelet around his left wrist. He likes to wear meaningful things on his left side because it’s close to his heart, a heart that I thought iced-over long ago. But I guess I was wrong, because here he stands, intently staring at Isabel as if she might instantly vanish at any second. He looks guilty. Hunter Knight should feel guilty; he caused Isabel so much anguish throughout her life, so much heartache, so much sadness. Isabel isn’t aware of Hunter, though. I don’t know whether he’s more harm or aid to her at this point. She’s going to need help—a boatload.
I run my fingers through her long hair and then wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close and leaning my head on her shoulder.
I love you Isabel.
Her body begins to shake.
I am very sorry you’re hurting.
Tears pool in her eyes.
But I need you to wake up, beautiful girl.
She tries to hold them in to keep them from falling.
Wake up and seek the truth.
A stream slides down her cheeks.
With the truth you can move on and so can I.
Her fists ball up and clench at her sides.
This is reverie, beautiful girl. Everything you thought you knew isn’t what it seems.
Isabel’s throat constricts and she cannot catch her breath.
I need you to break out of the illusion and see reality for what it is.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
BREATHE!
Through the tears, she inhales a deep breath.