The priest stood nearby, impatiently peering at his watch. Just let me get on with the ceremony and go back home, he thought irritably, watching the small group with an expression of near-disdain. Who was this person, who was so unloved to have such a small group of people at her funeral?

Ophelia stepped closer to the open grave and looked down into it. For a few seconds, all present feared that she would leap into the grave. Instead, much to their astonishment, she dropped to her knees, head slightly bowed, and began to speak in a calm, quiet voice:

“In the times of the ancient Egyptians, people were often buried with valuable treasures and things that had great meaning to them in their lives, so that in their next life, these things would be with them. Obviously, we are unable to do exactly that these days, but we can do something similar.” She raised her head and looked over at Charise. “Charise, come over here. You know what to do.”

Charise sighed, stepped forward, and from her pocket, she removed a small pair of scissors. She knelt behind her cousin, scissors poised, ready to act, then hesitated. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“If I do it, it’ll be crooked. You do it.”

“If I do it, it’ll be even more crooked. Just do it. A few quick snips.”

Gran chuckled to herself, and everyone looked over at her. She smiled uncomfortably and said, by means of explanation, “I had a similar argument over the same subject not too long ago.”

Ophelia nodded in response, then said to Charise, “Come on. Do it.”

“Fine,” Charise sighed.

To everyone, Ophelia said, “Ms. Gibson once told me that the only way I’d cut my hair is over her dead body. Well… I’m sure she’d appreciate the irony, if she knew what was going on.”


With a few quick snips of the scissors, Charise chopped the bulk of Ophelia’s hair off. Ophelia shook her newly-shorn head, feeling the new weightlessness, then took the hair and photograph that Charise held out to her. Ophelia looked down at the photo and added, “No two people view the world or its inhabitants in quite the same way. When a person dies, it isn’t just she who dies; the way she viewed everyone dies as well. There was something that she saw in each of us that no one else did, something that made her choose us. And, to some extent, that side has died with her. So, today we bury not just Ms. Gibson, but a little bit of each of us.” With that said, she wrapped her shorn hair around the photo and dropped them both into the grave, then rose. To the priest, she said, “You can continue.”

The ceremony was brief, almost hurried, and soon the grave was being filled. Gran said to the group, “Gabby left information in her will, saying that she wants her stuff to be divided a certain way. I’ll be happy to bring you to my house and let you pick out what you want from what you’ve inherited. But there’s something specific that only one of you gets, and she made it very clear. Ophelia, will you come with me, please? There’s something in my car that Gabby wanted you to have.”


With a shrug, Ophelia followed the old woman. The others shifted awkwardly, uncertain of what to say or do.

“So, I guess this is it?” Tiffani asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Emily muttered.

“Hey, look over there,” AJ said, pointing.

A well-dressed blonde man and a petite brunette girl were approaching, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who they were.

“Prepare for trouble,” Emily muttered.

“Make that double,” AJ added.

“Now’s not the time to try and be funny,” Charise cried out, looking fearful.

S squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Calm down,” he said. “He can’t hurt you, not while we’re all here.”


Dunstan strode up to the small group and took Charise’s hands. “Charise, please,” he said, almost pleadingly. “Come back to me. I promise, things are going to change. They’ll get better. I’m sorry for how I acted. But, please… I need you.”

Charise frowned and yanked her hands away. “You’ve already done too much to hurt me… and the people I care about,” she snapped.

“That’s not going to happen anymore.”

“What you did to me and Ophelia is more than enough. You’re not getting any more chances.”

“Whatever she claims I did, she’s lying.”

With a cry of fury, Charise slapped Dunstan across the face. “You’re a sick man, going after innocent young girls and hurting them,” she screamed. “You deserve to be in prison!” She turned to Angela and said firmly, “You need to get away from him. He’s going to use you, and when you get too old for his tastes, he’ll discard you for the next cute young thing. Go make a life for yourself, without this sicko.”

Angela slowly shook her head and replied, “What I choose to do with my life is of no concern to you.”

It was the last time that Charise ever saw either of them.