When we were young, no more than seven and nine, my older sister and I made a pact. We’d promised each other we’d never leave the other one alone in this world. As I look down at my sister resting peacefully in her coffin, I can’t help but feel betrayed.

I couldn’t even tell you all that’s happened in the past five days. All I can tell you is that I’ve been numb. I’m devoid of all feeling, my heart ripped out and ripped into teeny tiny pieces.

“Bella?” My cousin Edgar comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulder softly before pulling me into a full embrace.

I hug him tightly, taking in the smell of fresh marijuanna and old tobacco mixed with Dial men’s body wash.

“She was an absolutely amazing person, the most loving and caring me I knew. Nothing can take that away from her.” He says into my ear.

“If this wasn’t her choice, I’d be more included to believe that.” I whisper back. Edgar is the only one I would ever admit that too.

For everyone else, I’ve got to put on a brave face and protect my sisters legacy. There’s already so much talk. So many pitiful glances shot my way.

Edgar steps back with a miserable look on his face, like he’s battling an inner demon and IBS at the same time. “Don’t think like that. It will only make this harder.”

“I don’t see how my sisters suicide, where I found her, mind you, could be any harder than it already is.” I say acerbically and stomp away.

You try heading over to your sisters apartment like you do every Wednesday night only to find the door ajar and blood soaking the carpet beneath her wrists. You try being the one to sprint over to her side, only to find that’s she’s already gone.

You try being the one to call 911 and get questioned about something you don’t understand by dozens of men in blue. You try to process the bored expressions of those men as they close the case immediately because, obviously, this was a suicide.

I stand next to the only window in this depressing funeral home. It’s a view of the parking lot and the liquor store right across the street. Expect the L isn’t lit up like the rest do the letters, so it looks like ‘iqour Store. The drapes look like they’re from 1970, but their once happy yellow looks more like the pus that comes out of an infected wound. It matches the carpet, and equally appealing aged beige.

“Are you Bella?” A soft female voice calls from behind me.

I turn around slowly and take her in. Shes short, just over 5-foot, with brown eyes the color of dead leaves. She wears an easy smile on het face, if not a slightly nervous one.

“I am. And you are?

“Delilah. I was friends with your sister. I’m so sorry for your loss, she was such a kind soul.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t meet her sad eyes.

“I knew all my sister’s friends. How come I don’t know you?” Claire and I had all the same friends. We were inseparable, almost to an unhealthy extreme.

“Claire and I had only just met a few months ago,” she starts, looking a tad bit nervous. “We were seeing each other.”

“Oh.” Claire never told me she was into women. But then again, I didn’t know she was into anybody.

“You found her, didn’t you?” Delilah asks.

I nod, doing my best not to remember the gruesome scene.

“How did she… look?” She asks.

“What, you mean besides dead?” Who would ask something like that?

“I’m so sorry,” Delilah says again, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She’s dead because of me.” Delilah looks like she’s about to break down in the middle of the funeral hall.

I pull her aside and we walk into the woman’s bathroom. “It wasn’t your fault. It was my sister’s decision.”

Tears flow freely down her face. “No, no it wasn’t.” She buries her face in her hands. “He did this to her, I just know he did. I told Claire not to get involved, but she just couldn’t help herself.” Delilah bursts into full on sobs now.

“Who? Who did what?” I’m so beyond confused right now. Is she saying my sister didn’t kill herself?

“Brody, it had to have been Brody.” Delilah brings her face up to meet my eyes. “I owe him a lot of money. I used to sell for him, but some kid stole my entire month’s worth of inventory. It was over $100,000 worth of drugs. I couldn’t go to the police, but when I told Claire, she said she was going to. The next thing I hear, Claire’s dead!” She keeps sobbing.

I try to take all this in. My sister may have not chosen to abandon me after all…….

TO BE CONTINUED