“Go home, you’ve made your scene, intruded on people’s genuine grief and ruined this night for grieving relatives,” Papa said.
“Shut up, I deserve—”
“You know what I deserved? To mourn my daughter in peace and quiet. Without bitches like you causing trouble. First her wake and now this. Has respect totally died out? Do people understand grieving anymore? Is everything a fucking photo or social media opportunity? What of my grief? What of my pain? Is it entertainment for the masses? Christ, Natasha is better off dead than living in a world like this!” Mari cried.
Around us, strangers muttered in agreement.
“Go home, you evil bitch!” a woman exclaimed.
“Fuck off!” a man shouted.
Hate crossed Kyleah’s face. She caught sight of me and opened her mouth.
“Kyleah, I’ve never struck a female, but I will if you say one more vile and nasty word. Leave Amy alone, Kyleah. Leave before I do something you’ll regret,” Vortex warned.
A woman shoved Kyleah, and she tripped.
“Who did that?” she cried.
“I did! My son died in that field. Tonight was for him, and you come here to score points? Ruin lives?” the woman hauled back and smacked Kyleah hard across the face.
“Holy shit,” Dad muttered.
A different lady spun Kyleah around and slapped her, too. Kyleah stumbled away, her eyes wide with fear.
“That’s for my son, daughter-in-law, and grandson who died on that airship. I came to pay my final respects, and you ruined it.” Kyleah took another slap from the woman before Drew stepped in.
“Arrest them!” Kyleah cried. “That was assault.”
“You want assault?” Mari demanded and hit Kyleah for a third time.
“Got what you deserved. Now, you’re being taken into custody,” Drew said, yanking Kyleah’s arms behind her back.
“What for!” Kyleah screeched.
“Inciting a public disturbance,” Drew replied.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as Drew hauled Kyleah away. Those watching cheered softly.
“You can all fuck off too. Our pain and grief aren’t for the public to pick over,” Dad snapped at the reporters. Some exchanged worried looks. Several began retreating as the crowd now turned on them.
An older woman shook a young female reporter hard. “What if this were your sister, parents, or kid? Would you want cameras shoved in your face?”
Someone let out an angry sound, and I realised this was going to get nasty.
“Let’s get back to town. This is turning ugly,” Inglorious said. Several items were thrown at the reporters, who all began hurrying off. A couple stumbled as stones struck them.
The brothers closed around Mari and me and walked us back to the lane, which led home. As we walked away, I kept sending sideways glances at Mari.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just disappointed in people,” Mari replied and lapsed into silence. She wasn’t the only one.
Vortex
I’d apologised to Mari even though what occurred wasn’t my fault. I was disgusted with Kyleah. No doubt she was after money for an easy life and a baby daddy. Neither of which I was inclined to help with. I’d no idea who the father was, but it certainly wasn’t me.
Last night’s hopeful closure hadn’t happened. Amy went to bed and curled up, retreating into herself. Kyleah had wrecked the peace Amy had been searching for. Whenever Amy remembered the funeral or vigil, she’d know drama marred them. I wrapped myself around her, and Amy clung to me like a lifeline. Sleeping with Amy had become a habit over the last few days. If I wasn’t there, the nightmares came; if I was, they stayed away. I was only too happy to help.
