:D Just a set up. Getting into everything later on. Enjoy. ^^


Dear Diary,

I'm dead.

Poppy.

She slammed the diary shut, shoving it under her mattress. She lay on her back now, facing the blank white ceiling. She obviously wasn't physically dead, but she was dead on the inside. Her fists clenched and unclenched around her bed sheets, her jaw set with tension. She was done crying. She would not cry today. She would not give into the grief that constantly surrounded her for the past three days.

Poppy took a few deep breaths, eyelids closed, to calm her sorrow-turned-rage. It was nobody's fault. She couldn't blame anyone for what had happened. And so she sat up, got out of bed, and dressed stiffly. She slipped on a simple black dress that fell just under her knees with a pair of matching high heels. She left her hair down and wore no makeup, bare for the occasion.

She slipped on her shoes and stood in the entrance of her doorway. She looked down the hallway to the very end where her little sister was, standing inside her bedroom doorframe as well. Molly looked like a younger version of Poppy. Shoulder-length brown hair, a short-sleeved black lace shirt over a black undershirt, cropped pants, a pair of charcoal flats, and a delicate face filled with agony. She was done crying, too. She was determined to stay strong for Poppy.

They met each other halfway, taking each other's hand and walking down the stairs together, prepared to face their father's funeral head on.

*****

The funeral was a quiet service. Poppy's father was a very loving man who gave respect and earned respect in return. This was why the room was crowded with many faces that were now familiar to Poppy and her sister. Rosemary, their father's girlfriend, stood crying over his casket. Poppy's teeth clenched at the sight of her.

Poppy tried to tolerate her as much as possible when she saw her but she still thought of her as a trashy gold digger. Luckily, Poppy's father split all his possessions between Poppy and Molly, leaving nothing left for Rosemary. She's probably crying over the fact that she didn't end up getting anything, Poppy thought. Sucks for her.

Poppy let the bitter taste wash out of her mouth when she sipped on a glass of water. She looked at the open casket at the other side of the room solemnly. Rosemary was escorted away by Poppy's grandmother now. She was afraid that Rosemary would get tearstains on his suit. Molly was now standing over the casket, her small mouth moving slightly, whispering. It was just like Molly. She always said what she was feeling, whether someone was listening or not.

She glanced to the opposite corner, feeling tension radiating from there. Freddie stood with his arms at his sides, his mother, head mistress of Abbey Mount, standing by him. Freddie stared at Poppy with eyes so ocean blue and fathomless that Poppy could swear that she saw his soul. Poppy grimaced at the sight of him. She wasn't unhappy to see him. She just didn't want him to see her this way: so unmoving, so bottled up inside of herself.

Poppy placed the nearly full glass on top of the nearest table. She turned around and walked out the door, heading towards the bathroom. She turned into a long corridor that directed her towards the women's restroom. The tanned wall corridor stretch out in front of Poppy, the tiles on the floor elongating before her. She walked, nonetheless, hoping to get away from the crowded and suffocating walls. She heard clicking footsteps behind her but she didn't bother to turn around. She already knew.

Her footsteps echoed around her with the ones behind her. They were in harmony, the sounds weaving in and out of each other. Like a childhood tune you might hear every night before you went to sleep. Poppy stopped in front of the blank women's restroom door. She faced it but didn't go in.

The other footsteps stopped as well. Poppy bit her bottom lip, catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. "Poppy," Freddie said quietly, almost like a whisper taken by the wind. But she didn't hear Freddie's soothing voice she hoped for. She heard her father speak to her. And this broke her.