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intheheartTitle: Funeral
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ivy at her sister's funeral.
Warnings: child death, complicated grief.
Notes: This remains Kelly's fault.
Summer looked so little, almost shrunken, pale and fragile with her hands clasped over her stomach and her eyelashes like lace against her cheeks. Like she was sleeping, everyone said, but that wasn't true—Ivy had seen her sister sleep. Summer didn't look asleep. Summer, grey-faced and utterly limp, looked dead.
She could hardly look at her sister in the coffin, but it was better than looking anywhere else. Aaron sat with his head down, his hands dangling between his knees, useless. Her parents clung to each other, her father crying, her mother stone-faced and hollow. Lars just looked broken, disbelieving.
And Gina sat a careful two rows behind her, head to toe in black, eyes closed and hands folded in prayer. Ivy had seen her come in, had seen her hesitate between going to Ivy and choosing a more distant seat, had seen the brief hurt in her eyes when Ivy flinched at just the thought.
As if she was the one who hurt the most.
Ivy couldn't look at her. She couldn't even think of her. There was still so much love there, churning around with the grief and fear and anger—it was her fault Summer was dead, her father, her family—love she couldn't let go or stop, a history she couldn't erase.
She was pretty sure that Gina was the love of her life. That was the stone-cold bitch of it all. She loved Gina, she didn't think she ever would stop, and she couldn't forgive Gina for her sister lying still and small in a child-sized coffin. She couldn't forgive Gina for making Summer's death Ivy's fault.
She looked straight ahead, never back. Gina was over and Summer would always be dead—past and future bracketing the horrible present.
She'd always miss them both.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ivy at her sister's funeral.
Warnings: child death, complicated grief.
Notes: This remains Kelly's fault.
Summer looked so little, almost shrunken, pale and fragile with her hands clasped over her stomach and her eyelashes like lace against her cheeks. Like she was sleeping, everyone said, but that wasn't true—Ivy had seen her sister sleep. Summer didn't look asleep. Summer, grey-faced and utterly limp, looked dead.
She could hardly look at her sister in the coffin, but it was better than looking anywhere else. Aaron sat with his head down, his hands dangling between his knees, useless. Her parents clung to each other, her father crying, her mother stone-faced and hollow. Lars just looked broken, disbelieving.
And Gina sat a careful two rows behind her, head to toe in black, eyes closed and hands folded in prayer. Ivy had seen her come in, had seen her hesitate between going to Ivy and choosing a more distant seat, had seen the brief hurt in her eyes when Ivy flinched at just the thought.
As if she was the one who hurt the most.
Ivy couldn't look at her. She couldn't even think of her. There was still so much love there, churning around with the grief and fear and anger—it was her fault Summer was dead, her father, her family—love she couldn't let go or stop, a history she couldn't erase.
She was pretty sure that Gina was the love of her life. That was the stone-cold bitch of it all. She loved Gina, she didn't think she ever would stop, and she couldn't forgive Gina for her sister lying still and small in a child-sized coffin. She couldn't forgive Gina for making Summer's death Ivy's fault.
She looked straight ahead, never back. Gina was over and Summer would always be dead—past and future bracketing the horrible present.
She'd always miss them both.
