Salt

In a black dress I hadn't worn for years since the death of my grandfather, I listened acutely to Father Matthew read off his little brown book. He talked about Heaven, a justified God, and angels that carried this weight on their backs as they brought Ciara Ford to their maker.

But I knew I couldn't be the only one that wished he'd shut up.

Most people, if not crying, were facing the ground and the coffin and the rain that beat down on it like a booming drum. She might have been a teenager, but she was nearly six foot tall, and she fit so securely and comfortably in its case. The copper-brown was the perfect color and at the wake she had almost appeared normal, beautiful even. Her deep chocolate locks were curled, her nails had been covered with nude pink press-ons, and her make-up was simplistic but respectful. And as I'd paid mine, I noted that although her eyes were closed, and she wasn't dreaming, it was peaceful.

Alright, I didn't know where she was, or what she was doing... but it had to be.

The worms in the earth, the grass that would grow above her rectangle of dirt, they knew quiet. I trusted they'd keep her safe.

They were her protectors, not some omnipresent entity that allowed this to happen in the first place.

I bit my lip, as I turned to face the Fords. Bryce clasped his umbrella above them, free hand sunken into his pocket, as he avoided the haunted ground and the cries of his mourning wife. She poured it out for the world to witness, unapologetic for how she chose to deal. The tissue she clutched was sodden, it had been all morning.

Blinking a raindrop out from my lash, I focused on their son.

He'd rejected to carrying an umbrella, and his whole being was soaked. He hadn't moved to clean his glasses, either. In fact, all he did was address the dirt.

From beside me, Lu was unreadable too. When we met at the wake, he'd asked a million questions and refused to notice that his non-stop chatter was disturbing a handful of the guests. So, this was a change of pace.

He just tended to ramble when he was nervous, there was no cause to be upset.

I shifted from my position, I'm sure my leaning on him was annoying, he just would never say. On my other side, my sister was the same as she'd been since the news spread to the rest of the town.

Impassive, almost uncaring. I mean, I refused to believe it somehow. Yes, Ciara was a bitch to people, her especially, but at the end of the day, she was still a person.

And she definitely never deserved to die.

Reminding myself to speak with her later, I steadied my concentration. This moment wasn't about her, or us, after all.

Not long after each family member threw a handful of dirt into the deep ground, people began to disperse. Back to their vehicles, hopefully ready to resume their day and recall better times. There was no need to linger in this forever.

Zoey and my folks retreated just as quickly, and I knew I should've left with them, but my legs were fastened, rooted into the ground. They quaked lightly but found their bearings once again when a figure moved to stand beside me, black leather jacket splattered with crystal rain.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jett's crisp tone tried to grab me, like it tended to do. This time, it failed, and I didn't stop to wonder why.

“Someone has to stay."

As Mrs Ford practically crawled into her limo, I saw my mom and dad outside, paying their respects once again. Dad clapped Bryce's shoulder softly before heading out to wait in his own car. Not even a second after his back was turned, Mom reached out a gloved hand.

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

Tearing my gaze away long enough to meet Jett's cloudy eyes, I shook my head. I could see the reflection of a girl in a little black dress that was perhaps too tight for her. How stupid could I get?

"I don't know what to say to him."

My friend's smile was soft, as he cupped both sides of my head, flattening my hair, probably in an effort to make me look somewhat decent.

At the same time, I briefly pondered on why he thought I'd want to look good at a time like this. Or for Ambrose, or... well, I don't know.

"I don't think it matters, Ash, nothing is going to bring his sister back. Just be there for him, don't overthink it."

And with that, he was gone, so I crossed to the other side of the grave, the beat of my heart finally syncopating with the chaotic pounding on top of my head. The mud squelched under my shoes, leaking into my once pristine-white socks.

I didn't say anything to begin with, just watched as the rest of the guests disappeared. Back to their lives, forever changed, but not forever haunted.

I noticed Jesse walking up the pathway, hands in pockets as he regularly checked on us. He looked ridiculously good in formal wear – and I instantly felt dirty for thinking that. Fuck, remember where you are, Ash!

My ex's oozing deliciousness couldn't interfere with why I crossed sides, so I pushed it off and instead focused on the boy beside me.

By instinct, I went to hug him, but the look he gave me from behind his glasses stopped me short.

I licked the acidic rain from my lips, begging for moisture, for home.

He grunted.

"I don't like to think about her." Blinking away a drop, he made no other movement. "At first, it was all I could do. Would she still be here if I hadn't been working that night? Why did no one take her seriously... it's too much sometimes. I can't do it anymore."

I slid my own hands into my pockets, facing her grave directly again. She didn't have a tombstone yet, it wouldn't be ready for a few months or so, they said. While a sadistic part of me wanted to read it, the dark reality was that no scribble could determine who she was.

I bet I hadn't known her, either. I had no idea what she was like when it was just her, Ambrose, and their folks. People put on facades all the time, didn't they? I mean, she was just a fifteen year old girl, she hadn't been given the time to form her own identity just yet.

And I was part of that reason. If I'd just gone on break when she asked me to, I could've prevented this... couldn't I?

My face was hot, but the dry heat of the soppy weather wasn't helping.

"You know, they ruled it as accidental, that maybe she just passed out? Too 'out of her face' to recognize it wasn't her own bed."

That's right, her toxicology reports recorded that she had an insane amount of drugs in her system. That she'd ingested so much she'd have likely overdosed in her sleep if she hadn't drowned.

Not like that made me feel any better. She'd drowned, and it was deemed an accident, even with the voicemail she'd left me. The police put it down to certain hallucinations and her frantic behavior.

Ambrose's laugh brought me out of it.

"Ciara never touched drugs, she wasn't stupid. She was a lot of things, but not a fucking junkie." The disgust faded from his face almost instantly when he looked back at me. "Shit. I didn't mean Zoey–"

I shook my head, garnering the first smile of today. That I knew of.

"Heroin," His laugh reverberated loud and clear, that the cascading rain was pushed into the background. It wasn't the worst thing to happen today. "Can you believe it? Some asshole injected her with that and I can't help but..."

His words faded, their bite releasing its hold.

I knew what he wanted to say, I'd been fighting with it all week.

"And I know why."

I turned to him fully, eyebrows furrowing. He played with the idea of a grin, but knowing where we were, refused to let it show completely.

The world had slowed down, or paused, just for us to live right now. The falling rain was nothing but a memory that just needed to be reminded it was of use, the sodden muddy ground screaming to be revitalized. It was just the two of us here, plus a stolen soul.

And Ambrose was taking full advantage of it, realizing he had me at the tip of my toes.

"She knew everything; saw everything. All the secrets at the bonfire, she revealed how aware she was of every one of them, and others we weren't ready for." His eyes caught hold of mine, as my breath refused to come to me. This changes things, a lot. "She was valuable, so therefore disposable."

I swallowed.

To be so knowledgeable at such a young age, it would be a burden no matter how you looked at it. While some could perceive it as her likely being intrusive, sometimes people are thrown into situations they hate. It wouldn't surprise me if Ciara had found skeletons amongst all the regular gossip.

And just who exactly had the rotting corpses she happened to discover?

We were a small town; a tightly-knitted community. But if there's one thing close communities had that any other towns and cities lacked? Then, it was simple:

Toxicity.

What could possibly be more dangerous?

It struck me, at the same time, that Ambrose now knew that Ciara also suspected their father of having an affair. Or, at the least, would flirt with the idea.

I couldn't fathom being a teenager and carrying the burden of that.

I wanted to say something about it, but my words were all drowned out by the blistering rain. The ghost of them fading away as I confused the soft warmth of his palm for droplets on my flesh. His fingers splayed round my neck, as I rose my gaze, to chase his as they read me top to bottom.

I watched a great man fall from grace, let him hold on to me as he unveiled his unmatched misery. He slipped and we both crashed to the watery ground, mud coating our darkened figures.

And I kept close.