“Don’t. Just…give him a moment.”

Michael and I sit with Lacey, listening to the birds singing, and for all the world it sounds like they’re crying. Michael sits with an arm over Lacey’s body, as though he’s protecting her.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” I ask.

He smiles down at the girl who was only in his life a short while longer than she was in my own, and breathes in deeply. “Didn’t you?” he whispers. “How could I not?” And he’s right. How could he not?

Eventually Zeth stands up, reclaims his shovel, and begins to dig again. This time he moves more quickly, with a purpose. I stay with Lacey, because it feels wrong to leave her alone now.

When Michael and Zeth are done, the sun is almost setting. The sky looks like it’s on fire—like Heaven itself is burning. The men collect Lace, now cold and so very gone, and they carry her between them. The hole they were digging is no longer a hole but a grave.

I am weak. I am a coward. I am hollow and shameless. I cannot watch them lower her in. I walk down to the brook and I cry, hoping the rushing of the water will drown out the sounds of my tears. Michael comes to get me a little while later. The grave is no longer a grave but a patch of freshly turned earth. “You used to go to church, right?” he asks softly. “We don’t know what to say. Could you…”

Being asked to say something for Lacey is perhaps even worse than having to watch the dirt cover her pale, delicate skin. But I can’t refuse. The three of us stand together, staring down at the ground, and a wave of terror hits me when I realize I can’t say the words Michael asked me to say. The words my father would speak:

Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting? Now the sting of death is sin: and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and unmovable: always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.

Ashes to ashes…

Dust to dust…

Instead, the words I want to say will be hard to get out, but they are true. True to Lacey. I crouch down beside the freshly turned earth and place my hand palm-down on top of it, as though to lay my hand on the girl’s shoulder one last time. “I’m sorry, Lace,” I choke out. A deep breath. Another. How will I do this? How? I don’t think I can. I’m about to stand up, to shake my head and collapse into tears, but a strong hand lands on my shoulder. Zeth. He drops down into a crouch beside me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his side. It’s so wrong that he’s comforting me right now, but he gives me strength. I can do this.

“I’m ashamed,” I say, doing my best to pull myself together. “I’m ashamed that you gave your life for mine. In many ways, you were the weakest of us all. You suffered through years of abuse at the hands of people who should have cared for you. Your innocence was taken away, when it should have been protected and cherished. You wanted to give up, but we wouldn’t let you, Lacey, because we saw how kind and sweet and loving you were, and we were selfish. You were a light in our lives and we didn’t want to lose that light…because our lives are so much darker now without you in them. Because while you should have been the weakest, you were quite often the strongest, too. You saw each and every one of us for who we were and you loved us for it. You saw everything.” I break off, trapped between laughter and tears, because it’s true. She really did. “You saw the world in a way none of us ever have. You saw it as an outsider, looking in, and I’m so sorry, Lace, because you deserved more than that. You deserved to be loved. To have a husband and children of your own. To not feel like you had to be invisible anymore. You weren’t invisible to us, Lacey. And even though you’re gone, you’re still always going to be with us. We won’t ever forget you, sister. We won’t ever let you go.”

The sun has gone down by the time I finish speaking.

Zeth has to carry me back to the car.

I. Can’t. Think.

The concierge at The Regency Rooms doesn’t say a word about the blood, mud, sweat and tears we’re covered in as we move silently through the lobby. He looks up—I see him do it—but the guy doesn’t bat an eyelid. He goes back to subtly pretending we’re not even there. This is the kind of discretion you pay dearly for. Not that Zee can’t afford it. I have no idea why I’m thinking about anything as mundane as money right now. We’re all emotionally poor; that’s the only thing that matters.

Everything just happened so quickly. This morning we were going to a funeral to try and get Lacey back, and now Charlie is dead, and we just got back from Lacey’s funeral. Where’s the sense in that? I left the apartment this morning thinking, absolutely fucking positively, in fact, that we were gonna be coming back with our girl. So fucking sure of it. 

We’ve all been left utterly bereft by what just took place. And I am really fucking worried about Zee. Not once in all the time I’ve known him have I seen the man like this. He’s just…he’s not even there. He hasn’t said a word since we put Lace in the ground. His silence is far more scary than his dark moods, where you know he’ll tear you a new one if you so much as look at him sideways. There’s always fair warning with those. Right now, with this blankness about him, he seems a little unhinged. Like he could go supernova at any second and there will be absolutely no time to run for cover.