I began to think about what, through the entirety of my life, had brought me to this point and this place. I suppose I never had, before. The occasion brought out my introspective side.

First of all, there’s the issue of my parents. They died quite early – when I was two, or three, I think. I was adopted not too long after – I was always a handsome little boy. My adopted parents, though I didn’t think of them that way, were originally quite happy – they cared for me, doted on me. They loved me. But I supposed they didn’t think too far ahead, about the consequences of having to care for a growing boy – I needed to be educated, and that was quite expensive. My parents were…not that wealthy. They had decent jobs, but money was still tight – everything cost too much and pay hadn’t yet caught up, for the lower-middle class.

I got the impression from this time that material worth was of paramount importance. I suppose if they had cared for me like normal parents, they would have taught me that this was not the case, but alas they did not. They at least instilled in me a good work ethic and considerable discipline – the beatings made sure of that. I was beaten fairly often as a child. If I did something particularly wrong, I was punished for it. I got good at figuring out what was right and what was wrong after the beatings started, but even so they continued. Less than they would have if I kept on like an idiot, but they still occurred. To this day, I don’t know why – my memories put me as a quiet child, happy to join in with the crowd but not very boisterous or loud, getting everything asked of me done when I could. I guess my parents didn’t like the financial strain I had put upon them – if I was in their position I would probably feel the same way.

I thought about the current situation. Everyone was in the sick bay, standing over Elizabeth’s body – we all knew she wasn’t getting better, so we had a simple funeral. Darcie used her hair – cut off after she died – to make a shroud to cover her over with. It was quite rough, due to the material, but it was a soft, golden colour and it was good to take our minds off what it covered. Everyone was stepping up to say a few words – I was going last. The Beast had a lot to say – he had been talking for a minute or two now. I had nowhere near that much to say, since I had barely known her when she was…well, she was still technically alive. But she was brain dead. There was no real difference.

I remembered the boarding school I went to as a child. The place was made mostly of red brick, but there were a few prefabs and at least one wooden shed. It was mixed, though the boys’ and girls’ dormitories were obviously separate buildings. I can’t really remember if there was any major trouble in the place, but apart from normal stuff like practical jokes it was very calm. Day to day was very simple and, as is the way with a child, I hated it. It seems a lot more enjoyable in hindsight – nothing major I had to do, no tight deadlines, no making deals like I would have to do today.

It wasn’t long after I left school. I hadn’t been driving long – I was still at the stage of constant caution and driving slowly wherever possible. I was in quite a cheap car, anyway – it had only cost me about two thousand. Anyway, back to the reminiscing. I was driving to work, turning onto the street my business place was on, when some crazy swerved into me and I tried to turn away, driving straight into a concrete wall – the place I worked, funnily enough. The car was heavily damaged (written off, unfortunately) and I was knocked unconscious, heavily injured – fortunately the hospital was nearby, otherwise I wouldn’t have lasted very long. A pedestrian called an ambulance and they got here within five minutes. I was already beginning to fade when they arrived, but they managed to close the bigger wounds and get me back to the hospital. I got a transfusion – fortunately they had recently had donations of my blood type. Apparently the guy who hit me had just donated a pint, which explained why he was driving so badly. Obviously I didn’t learn that for quite a while after the incident, but at least I found out eventually. I still felt angry at the guy for being stupid enough to try driving just after he had donated blood but at least he had a legitimate reason better than being a terrible driver.

I wondered why I was thinking about this subject. It was entirely random – it wasn’t for any particular reason, it wouldn’t get me closer to the people around me or help me in any way. Introspective moods are like that, I suppose. I mentally shrugged before going back to my thoughts.

The first job I had was in a fast food place, working as a waiter. But I worked hard, and soon I was promoted to…well, a senior waiter. I worked my way up, getting a managerial role after a few months, and from there I went up, and the pay came with me. Two years later, I owned the place and was making about sixty thousand a year after tax. The place was popular – I advertised a little with posters here and there and it went up and so did my profit. Eventually I could afford to sponsor the local radio station and they began giving me a cut on that. I stuck to those two places, happy with the money I was making, since I didn’t really want for anything – I had a decent house to myself, nice car, could afford anything I needed. And since I didn’t need much money by myself, I was putting it into a savings account which was getting pretty big by my late forties.

And then crisis struck. Mid-life crisis, I suppose it was. I started getting lonely, looking for women. Specifically women in trouble – I’d save them, maybe have a drink, usually go home alone. It wasn’t a great stage of my life, and it started to get worse.

I started to become manipulative in my efforts to rescue women. I’d hire thugs to attack them before going in and pretending to beat up the guy, smile at the girl, give some pretty words and so on and so forth before maybe taking them out to dinner to chat and flirt a little. Maybe they came back to my place; maybe not. Sometimes the fact that I had hired the thug slipped out and they stormed out in disgust at what a terrible thing I had done to them for my own pointless gratification. I never wondered why – it always seemed obvious, they were jealous of me.

I turned my attention back to the little funeral service. The Beast had finished talking and, glancing around to make sure nobody else wanted to say anything, picked up her body and brought her outside, followed by the rest of us. He gently placed Elizabeth in the grave before taking one of the nearby wheelbarrows full of dirt and slowly tipping it onto her body. A tear welled in his right eye, gathering weight before slowly rolling down his cheek to his chin where it fell and landed on the shifting dirt. I took another barrow myself, copying his previous actions while he grabbed the handle of the final barrow, emptying it onto the large pile of dirt in the hole. We both grabbed shovels, using them to flatten the dirt and smooth it for the next step.

There was a layer of turf that we had carefully removed as we were digging the grave which we covered the hole over with, making it look almost like nothing had happened. The Beast then cautiously built a little pile of stones on top of the grave – in the shape of a medieval tower, for some reason. I didn’t waste time wondering why – presumably it was important to her, or him. I watched since I had nothing to do and, when he was finished, I indicated that we should perhaps head to the canteen for a late lunch. Also that we should just get inside because the institute workers were looking at us in an odd way and one of them appeared to be dripping chloroform onto a cloth to restrain us before dragging us inside.

We went inside, since chloroform to the face didn’t seem like much of a great option. The Beast was happy that he could at least look out at Elizabeth’s grave from his bedroom, I guess to make sure the little tower of stones was kept in decent condition. Having carried out this funeral successfully and with a minimum of tears I congratulated myself and decided to reward myself with a delicious, delicious sandwich which I had blatantly earned for myself.