In normal situations, I would hate my family right now, but for some reason, I can't feel the hurt or pain anymore. I guess that is good because if I could feel my emotions I would be a hot mess.

***

Today was the day of my funeral and I was watching from afar. Although I made it very clear to my parents that I didn't want any black at my funeral That's exactly what everyone was wearing.

My aunts and cousins lined up with my parents and said kind words as my parents cried and thanked them for their sympathy. Teacher and students from my college were all there talking amongst themselves like it was some kind of meeting. Surprisingly every kid from the party had come too.

Matteo was sitting in a corner by himself in the outfit I made him promise to wear if I ever died. It was a bright yellow shirt with a cute unicorn on the front, paired with hot pink jeans and tie-dyed vans. People passed b him with sad looks on their face, the few that tried to tax;ok to him got pushed away without a second glance. Beside him, I could see my favorite margarita in a bottle next to him.

At least one person in this room won't makes it look fake.

"Will you all take you seats please," said Paster John at the front of the room.

Everyone quickly found their seats with immediate family upfront. I didn't listen as he went on and on with bible verses and words of encouragement. I just continued to watch the crowd as a few of the people used tissues to wipe their tearless eyes.

The back door slammed open, "What the hell is this!?"

MY mother looked back and got up from her seat as she saw my birth father crash his way through the church. He was never a huge part in my life but anytime something important happened with me my mother would always call him. He was a decent guy and treated me more like the long lost little sister then his daughter. I can't say I didn't love him but he was never there when I needed him.

"What are you doing?" my mother cried. "Anthony are you drunk?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing!? You know she would've never wanted any of this! Hell, she probably cursing you all out from the other side!"

My mother began to cry again as she attempted to guide him to the seat next to her, being sure not to look up at my father.

The preacher cleared his throat, "Well then, at this time I would like to welcome anyone up who would like to say a few words about miss Ashna Castel."

Slowly students that I didn't know and family members made their way to the stage.

"Ashna was a very......um......special person," Jenna, the girl I've hated since second grade, said with her snotty voice. "I remember one time in 10th grade I asked her to borrow a pencil and she said I used to use the one that is stuck up my ass"

I chuckled to myself remembering that day. She failed to mention the fact that an hour before she asked for my pencil she made me spill my entire lunch on my cloth then threw a bitch fit because I hugged it out.

Person after person came up and said the same type of stories. Even my families stories were as fake as fake could be. Neither Matteo or my parents went up to share anything.

When they got up to bury my "empty" casket, Matt stormed out of the church and went straight to the police department. The detective assigned to the case came rushing to him.

"Hey, I don't think you should......."

"I know who killed her and I want them dead. I work for them but I swear I didn't lay a hand on Ashna and had no clue where she was. I can tell you everything you want to know if you make me a deal." Matt said cutting her off and standing tall.

"What kind of deal?" she said skeptically.

"No jail time. No press. I will be an informant to if you promise to get my brother out."

She starred at him in disbelief, and I watched not knowing what to think of the situation. "Let's get to work."