The funeral came and went. P.T. hardly registered the event at all - seemingly in a daze since losing Phillip. He didn't know how the other oddities were holding up, as he'd hardly left his house. Charity had to force him to eat, had to force him to bathe, had to force him to function like a normal human being. Keeping up the act - especially in front of the girls - was hard. It was so, so hard when all she wanted to do was break down and cry.

Phillip himself felt on the verge of a mental breakdown - if there was such a thing when you were passed and all your organs had quit functioning. He'd followed Barnum to his own funeral - he seemed to be attached to the ringmaster, but why he didn't know - and watched in numb silence as the pastor spoke of his life. His parents were almost totally silent in the front row - Mrs. Carlyle let out a tearful cry every once in awhile, letting everyone know that she was, in fact, in attendance, but Mr. Carlyle sat stoic. He didn't say a word, didn't shed a single tear throughout the entire service.

Then came the burial.

Watching his own casket being lowered into the ground was - well, even Phillip, the wordsmith that he was

(or used to be)

couldn't find the right words for it. Oddly enough, as he stood next to Barnum (who showed much more emotion than either Mr. or Mrs. Carlyle), watching the casket with his body inside disappear into the earth, he felt - calm. A sort of peace settled over him with the knowledge that he would be lifted into Heaven after the funeral, free of all Earthly burdens and hardships. Surely his funeral marked the end of his time on Earth and he would be pulled up to join long gone family and friends at any moment.

But then the service ended. And Phillip Carlyle was still bound to Earth like he had rocks tied to his ankles, weighing him down.

Days passed, and Phillip began to panic. He followed Barnum around - for some reason he couldn't describe, he felt strongest around the ringmaster - but, as noted before, the man didn't do much. Phillip felt sure that he was on the verge of losing his mind.

He didn't belong on Earth where the living people dwelled. They couldn't see him, couldn't interact.

He didn't belong in Heaven for some ungodly reason that he didn't know and - a part of him - didn't want to find out.

He couldn't help but wonder - was this Purgatory? Had he taken his life for granted - his life of riches that came at a cost by his father's hands? Were the almost daily beatings, dating back to childhood, not enough to warrant an eternal rest in peace?

Phillip Carlyle sat in the corner of Barnum's living room, unnoticed by Barnum, who sat and stared out the window. He let out a sob and buried his face in his hands.

Despite the fact that he was totally surrounded by people, constantly by Barnum's side and within the presence of Charity and the children, Phillip Carlyle was... alone.

Completely and totally... isolated.