The scent of lilies was suffocating. It was thick, sweet, and cloying, hanging in the air of the private viewing room like a heavy curtain.
Delina's spirit hovered in the corner, looking down at the closed casket. It was draped in white roses. A mockery. Florene knew Delina hated roses.
Guests in black designer suits shuffled in and out, whispering. They spoke of "tragedy" and "fortune" in the same breath, their eyes darting around to see who else was there.
Kassidy stood near the entrance. She dabbed at dry eyes with a lace handkerchief, accepting condolences with the grace of a practiced actress.
"She was my best friend," Kassidy sniffled to an elderly aunt.
Delina wanted to scream. She wanted to knock over the flower arrangements. But she was impotent, a ghost in her own tragedy.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the room banged open. The sound echoed like a gunshot, silencing the whispers instantly.
Hiram strode in.
He was flanked by four bodyguards who moved with military precision. The air temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. He wore a black suit that looked like armor, his silver mask reflecting the dim lights.
He didn't look at the casket. He walked straight toward Kassidy.
Kassidy's performance faltered. She offered a rehearsed tremble, reaching out a hand as if to comfort the grieving widower. "Hiram, I-"
Hiram caught her wrist.
He didn't hold it; he crushed it. Kassidy gasped, her knees buckling under the pressure.
He leaned down, his face inches from hers. The silver mask was cold against her skin.
"I know about the driver, Kassidy," he whispered.
The color drained from Kassidy's face so fast she looked like the corpse in the room. Her eyes darted around, looking for help, for her mother, for anyone.
"I... I don't know what you mean," she stammered.
Hiram shoved her back. He looked at his hand as if he had touched something rotting.
"Get out," he said. It wasn't a shout. It was a command spoken with the absolute authority of a king. "Clear the room."
His bodyguards moved instantly. They ushered the terrified guests and a protesting Florene out the doors. Florene tried to shout something about "rights," but a glare from Hiram silenced her.
The heavy doors boomed shut. The lock clicked.
Hiram was alone with the casket.
The silence was heavy. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning and Hiram's ragged breathing.
He approached the casket slowly. His fingers trembled as they traced the polished wood.
Delina floated closer, her heart breaking for him.
He rested his forehead against the lid. "I'm sorry, Angel," he choked out.
Angel. So that was her name. The name Delina had only ever heard him whisper in fevered, restless sleep, when nightmares haunted him. It confirmed everything she had ever feared-she was just a substitute for someone else, a placeholder for a ghost he truly loved.
He reached up with both hands. He unbuckled the leather straps behind his head.
The silver mask clattered to the floor.
Delina gasped. In three years of marriage, she had never seen what lay beneath.
Scars ran from his jaw to his temple, deep, jagged lines of pink and white tissue. They distorted his left eye slightly, pulling the skin taut. But they weren't ugly. They were lines of pain he had borne alone.
Tears streamed down his exposed, ruined face. They dripped onto the wood of the casket.
"This was my fault," he whispered to the wood. "I brought you into my world. I thought… if I just kept you at arm's length, the darkness wouldn't touch you. But it found you anyway."
He sobbed, a harsh, broken sound. "I've loved you since the day you gave me that bandage in the garden. You didn't remember me. But I remembered you."
Delina's spirit was overwhelmed. The weight of his hidden devotion crushed her. He was the boy from the orphanage. The one she had helped when she was six.
"I'm here!" she screamed, diving toward him. "Hiram, I'm here!"
She tried to wrap her arms around his shaking shoulders. But as she made contact, a blinding white light erupted from the casket.
It wasn't a gentle light. It was a supernova. It enveloped the room, swallowing Hiram, the lilies, and the pain.
A sensation of falling backward seized her. She was being pulled away from him, sucked into a vortex of pure energy.
