“Daddy? Send a legal notice to the Institute that I’ve been summoned to court. I’m going to testify.”
* * *
I felt secure in my choice when I ended the phone conversation and returned to my cell with Oberi. I’d been going back and forth for days on what to do, but with Monica’s support, I knew that I could summon the courage and face John again— and give my testimony, which would hopefully put him behind bars.
It wasn’t fair, or just, that I was in prison and he was roaming around free. Fuck John. I was coming for him.
Charlie was lounging on the couch when I rolled in. “Hey. Where have you been?” he asked as Oberi changed into a husky, and shut the door behind us.
“I was in the Witch Tower with Marcus and Kallie,” I said. “I… Marcus was able to help me talk to Monica.”
“Really?” He sat up, leaning over his knees. “That must’ve been really hard.”
“Not as hard as I thought, but it… brought up a lot of stuff, honestly. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“What’s up?”
I said apprehensively, “Well… we never had a funeral for me, and Ididdie.”
Charlie’s eyebrows knitted together. “That’s crazy, pidge. Why would you want to hold a funeral for yourself if you’re still alive?”
“But that’s the point— Kallie suggested it. It’s a ritual for fae who’ve seen the devastating effects of battle, and don’t know how to get over it. They have to kill the old self in order to be born again into someone new,” I explained. “I’ve gone through such a big transformation over the past two years, so much so that I don’t feel I’m the same person I used to be. I want to lay that to rest, so I can grow to be the woman I’m meant to become.”
“Don’t you think having a funeral will make things more difficult for you to get over?” he questioned.
“I don’t think so. It might be painful, but she also reassured me that it’s… freeing. It needs to be put to rest.”
“If you’re going to do this, I need to be there,” Charlie said firmly. “You need my support.”
“Charlie, one of the reasons I came back was because I knew you needed me. I don’t want you to come if it’s going to be triggering for you. This could put you through more unnecessary grief.”
“No. I want to be there,” Charlie said. “It’s sort of like… burying the past. I think we both need to do it.”
I was still uneasy. I wanted to protect him, and this could bring up a lot of trauma both of us didn’t want to deal with.
But I also wanted him to be there, and I think he needed this as much as I did. “Okay. Thanks for being there for me. But if it gets to be too much, you don’t have to stay.”
“I’ll be there, pidge,” Charlie promised. “As much as it sucks to admit, I think I’ve got parts of myself that have died, too. We can let our old lives go, together.”
I was glad he was backing me up, and that he hadn’t freaked out about this idea like I’d worried he would. I wasn’t sure if this was the right decision, but I was sure that I couldn’t continue living my life wishing for things to go back to the way they had been.
So tomorrow night, I’d have to say goodbye.
* * *
The atmosphere was somber the following evening. My friends arrived at the chapel at sunset, wearing all black. Oberi, who insisted the event needed even more drama than what was already involved, had donned a long black veil over her fluffy ears and around her horn. I wore a matching veil over my face, to compliment my black dress. We’d made them in the Arts & Crafts room earlier, and they definitely suited the mood. A couple of inmates had heard about what we were doing, and called usfucking freakson our way to the chapel.
Who cared what they thought. This wasn’t about them.
A small black box sat on the altar, surrounded by a collection of flowers that Charlie had bloomed. Sprigs played in the petals, hopping from flower to flower with no awareness of how grim this all was.
Beside the box was a photograph of me, one I’d brought with me from home the first time I’d arrived at the Institute. The photograph was from high school, and depicted me smiling in front of the seaside on Kinpago’s shores.
I stared vacantly at the photograph and felt nothing but regret. I could look at that girl in the picture, and have her memories, but I didn’t identify with her anymore. It was almost like looking at a depiction of a stranger, because I was so different now.
I took a deep breath and gazed at the swaths of black fabric hanging from the chapel’s rafters that Kallie had conjured. In the loft, Marcus played his harp, while Alistair— painfully— accompanied it with notes from the organ, creating an aching funeral march.
My life had started here in this chapel, with the confession of my darkest secrets to Charlie on the balcony, with our wedding… and that life was about to end here, because Kallie promised me that after this, I’d be someone totally new.
