The Wake

He had no idea why he said what he said. The words just sort of tumbled out before he could stop them. And there he stood, staring into amber eyes that were now brimming with tears. Eyes that so formerly had been filled with grief, which were now sparking with anger and shock. Shock that he, too, felt course through him, sharp as a lightning bolt in an open field.

"Take it back," she said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

He stood, silent, still stunned at the ferocious attack that had spewed forth from him mere moments ago.

"Take it back," she said, a bit more forcefully.

More tears marched from her eyes, following their leader down the contours of her face like an army off to battle their nemesis. Unfortunately, at this moment, their nemesis was him.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he uttered. "I take it back."

"Whatever." She turned from him and started to walk away, wiping the evidence of her emotional response onto her sleeve. For a girl who reputedly never cries, the tears were at full force now.

"Alicia. I didn't mean it. I was angry."

She turned to him, almost as if snapped back by an elastic band. Her eyes pierced into his. He was sure that if looks could kill, he would have been a pile of ashes then and there.

"You were angry. Right. Angry. No, that makes it all better. That makes it okay."

"It doesn't. I know it doesn't. But—"

"No, you're right. I forgot. You're the only one who gets to feel anything. You're the only one with emotions in this family, Alan. So please. Go ahead."

"Now wait just a minute! Where is all this coming from?"

Alicia stormed up to him. "Can you not be your arrogant ass self for one day, please? Have some respect!"

"It just slipped out!" he retorted. "I didn't mean to say it."

She scoffed. "But you thought it. And believe it or not, that's worse. People say shit they don't mean all the time. It's what they don't say that's telling."

"Oh come on. It was an accident."

"Freudian slip, more like. Look, here come mom and dad. Maybe just shut up and look sympathetic."

"I am sympathetic! I'm devastated!"

"Whatever."

Mr. and Mrs. Welliever made their way to them through the crowd. They both looked a bit worn, but Mr. Welliever was the worse for wear.

"Alan. You came." He reached out a shaking hand, which Alan took and shook, a mite hesitantly.

"Of course I came. I was so shocked to hear the news."

"So was I," Mrs. Welliever uttered. "That was a phone call I never thought I would receive in my life."

"It's upsetting that we had to see each other again under these circumstances," Mr. Welliever said. His face was much more careworn than Alan remembered. He had stayed away a bit longer than perhaps he should have, he thought to himself. Perhaps if he had been around...he pushed that thought aside. It didn't matter now.

"How are things with you, Alan?" Mrs. Welliever asked, taking his arm and gently encouraging him to walk with her. This was the first physical contact Alan had had with his mother for over a decade, since he had made his rather hasty departure.

"Fine. A little rocky, but nothing I can't handle. How are things with—" He stopped himself.

Obviously, things aren't okay with them. How is one even supposed to reciprocate small talk with grieving parents? His eyes glanced around the room for any sort of escape.

"If you'll excuse me just a moment, I have to use the restroom."

"Is something the matter, Alan?" Mrs. Welliever stopped to look at him.

"No." Other than the obvious. "Nothing."

"Nothing at all?" Mr. Welliever, no longer shaking, placed a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"No. I'm fine."

"He's fine. He's fine, Marshall. You hear him? He's fine." Mrs. Welliever turned to her husband sharply. "Our son is just fine."

"I heard him. He's fine."

Alicia chuckled. "Wrong answer, dear brother."

"Did I say something wrong?" Alan took a step back, but Mrs. Welliever grabbed his wrist.

"Not at all, dear. It's alright to be fine when you're not around to pick up the pieces."

"Not around to stop anything from happening," Mr. Welliever added.

"It's alright to be fine when you run away and pretend like we don't exist." Her tone sharpened, and her grip on Alan's arm firmed.

"I-I never pretended like you didn't exist," Alan stammered, twisting his arm out of his mother's hold.

"We heard what you said," Mr. Welliever said. Alan's blood ran cold. "We heard the comment you made."

"Comment?" Alan whispered.

"Don't act innocent, son. We know how you feel about us. About her."

"What do you mean?" Alan turned to Alicia, who shrugged. She seemed to be enjoying herself now.

"Do you want to see her?" Mrs. Welliever grabbed his arm again.

"N-No."

"Oh, come on, boy," Mr. Welliever said, resting his hands on Alan's shoulders. "Let's go have a look."

Alan didn't want to have a look. It didn't matter how well the mortician had done her up, he'll always remember the pictures from the crime scene. The torn flesh, the crooked joints, the eyes. Open, staring. Staring into his soul. Pleading for help, even after death. They reached the casket.

"Take a look," his father said. "See what you did."

Alan took a breath and glanced in. Immediately, bile-filled his throat. The corpse before him looked as though it had been rotting for weeks. The skin peeled back to reveal decayed muscle, even bone. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. His eyes moved to her head. Her mouth lay open in a silent scream, but there was no sound. Her nose had all but fallen inward, and hollow sockets remained where her beautiful eyes had once been.

He closed his eyes and raised his hand to his face, but something stopped his arm. He opened his eyes to see the empty sockets staring back at him.

"Look what you did," a hoarse whisper emanated from the corpse's throat. Alan began to scream.

"Come on, let's go see her." Alan snapped back to reality. His eyes met his mother's. Sad, but warm. "We don't have to do the small talk thing. Let's just go say goodbye."

"I don't know that I want to see her. I don't think I'm ready." Alan searched for a place to sit down.

"Of course you're ready," Alicia said. "You have to be."

His parents patted his shoulders comfortingly and moved on.

"You have to face it sometime." Alicia sat beside him. "Just like the rest of us."

"Why?" Hot tears streamed down Alan's face. "Why do I have to face it? I left. I left, and I didn't look back. That should have been enough."

"Enough for what, Alan? What is abandoning your family enough for?"

"I didn't—"

"Oh yes, you did. You abandoned us. You don't get to decide that you didn't. But it's time to make amends, Alan. It's time to come back and apologize."

"It's too late."

"It's not too late. When has it ever been too late? Would I be sitting here giving a shit about you if it were too late?"

Alan didn't have a response.

"I'll walk with you. Come on."

"I don't want to."

Alicia stood. "Come on, Alan. No more pussyfooting around." She held her hand out to him.

Alan stood, ignoring the gesture. "Let's get this over with, then."

The walk to the casket seemed to take hours. The further they walked, the farther away the casket seemed, until it was right in front of them.

"Here we are," Alicia said softly. "Say what you need to say, big brother."

"I don't know what to say," Alan replied. "I have no idea."

"What would you say if we were at home?"

"Whattup, bitch?"

Alicia laughed. "Yeah. Alright. Start there."

Alan chuckled and shook his head. He stared at the body in the coffin. Pristine was the only word that came to mind. "Wow..." he uttered.

"I know, right? They did a bang up job. You can barely tell—"

"You can tell."

"Sure. But barely."

Alan felt the sting of tears rising up again. "I'm sorry," he sputtered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from him."

"I'm sorry, too." Alan turned to Alicia. Tears were fresh on her cheeks as well. "I'm sorry that the last phone call we had was yelling. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

"You had no idea he was bad."

"No, but you did."

"But it wasn't my place-"

"Alan." Alicia held up her hand. "You had no idea he was a psycho. Sure, he was bad...but I liked bad. Not that you want to hear your little sister talk about that, but I liked bad boys. Hurts so good, that was my motto. Neither one of us could have known he'd take it so far."

"But I wasn't there."

"You're right. You weren't. And I was a big girl who knew better."

She looked down at the casket.

"I wish they would have used my lipstick. This shade makes me look a bit too..."

"Angelic?" Alan offered. Alicia laughed.

"Yeah. Angelic. Something I never was. Hell, they should be burying me in my leather pants and crop top, but here we are."

Alan smiled. "Here we are." Alicia smiled back, but as her gaze shifted behind him, the smile faded and the color left her cheeks.

"It's time."

Alan turned. "Time for what?" Seeing nothing, he turned back. Alicia's eyes were now glazed over, her face pale and gaunt.

"Time for you to join me."

Alan sat bolt upright in bed. A cool breeze wafted across the bedroom, causing him to notice the thin layer of sweat covering his body. He lay back, trying to clear his head. The nightmares were back. Why were the nightmares back? He checked his phone.

Of course. It was the two year anniversary of Alicia's death. Hence the nightmares. Maybe it was time to start taking the pills again. At least just to get through the next twenty-four hours.

Alan stood and stretched. Another breeze wafted through the bedroom. As he made his way to the bathroom, he made a mental note to close the window when he came back.

He opened the medicine cabinet. There it sat, old faithful, the bottle that had been his best friend for the past two years. He took the bottle and shook it. The familiar rattle was oddly soothing. He shook out a single pill and replaced the bottle. He tossed the pill into his mouth and closed the cabinet door. Behind him, he noticed, a shadow passed in the mirror. He shook his head, poured a glass of water, and swallowed the pill.

As he made his way back to the bedroom, he felt eyes upon him. He looked down the hallway but was alone. 'This pill needs to kick in,' he thought to himself. He continued on into the bedroom. The breeze struck him again, but as he looked, he noticed that no curtains were blowing. He rushed to the windows, but they were all shut and locked.

"Take it back..."

He turned. Alicia stood in the doorway, a pained look on her face. Just then, Alan felt a sharp pain in his side. He turned and saw a grizzly face staring back at him.

"Take it back..."

Alan screamed and shoved the face away.

"Take it back, Alan."

Alan fell, after another hot, searing pain sliced into his chest. Alicia was now looking down on him.

Alan, breathing heavily, looked into her eyes, bright and glistening amber.

"I'm sorry. I was angry. I didn't mean I actually wanted you to die. You just wouldn't listen to me, and I was pissed off!"

Alicia smiled and held out her hand. The grizzly face appeared in front of hers.

"Shut up!"

Another searing slice. Alan screamed. Alicia held her hand closer.

"It's time."

Alan closed his eyes and took her hand in his.