The sergeant leaned over the casket of his daughter and gently kissed her head.
"Bye baby," he whispered into her ear. He wiped away a loose tear and returned to his seat.
It had been a week since Cassandra had stayed with the band. A week since she lured Rob into the abandoned warehouse. And a week since she shot herself point-blank in the head with her father's stolen gun.
He'd never forget that moment. He felt his heart tug at the realization that he may have to shoot his own daughter to save another man's life. To do his duty. He watched her as she quickly swung the gun away from Rob and brought it to her own head. She kept her eyes on Rob the whole time. She didn't even flinch when she pulled the trigger.
And then she was dead. She had blown away a portion of her head, the small bits flying everywhere. Blood everywhere. It covered Rob, who had been only a few feet away. He squeezed his eyes shut at the gunshot. He didn't see her fall to the ground with a dull thud.
The sergeant blew his nose in the handkerchief that was in his pocket, and followed the crowd outside. The funeral was over. Cassandra would be buried in a private ceremony. No media would be allowed. Unlike now. Sergeant Killyack was barraged with reporters as soon as he stepped outside of the church.
"Please, just leave me alone," he said as he got into the car that would take him to the cemetary. The reporters pounded on the tinted windows, begging for any sort of comment. He stared down at the seat and took his wife's hand. She squeezed it back and began sobbing.
"Shh, shh," he whispered.
The car took the two to the cemetary. They walked to the plot where Cassandra would be buried. The priest read a passage from the Bible, and the three bowed their heads in prayer.
After the priest had left, the parents remained at the grave for a long time. Just as the sun was going down, the sergeant noticed a lone figure coming towards them.
"Honey, I'll be right back," he said, keeping his eyes on the figure. It was a man, and as he got closer, the sergeant saw that it was Rob. He was dressed for the occassion in a black suit.
"Hi," he said uncomfortably. "How are you?"
The sergeant sighed. "As good as I can be, I suppose. How are you?"
Rob looked away. "The same."
The sergeant placed his hand on Rob's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
Rob forced a smile even though his chin was wavering. "I am too." He walked over to the grave and gave a short nod to Mrs. Killyack. "I've worn this suit too much this week," he joked dryly.
Mrs. Killyack gave another sob, and the sergeant went over to hug her.
"It's been a tough week," he mumbled into her hair.
Rob felt incredibly out of place. He held a small daisy in his hand, which he gently dropped into the hole. Then he turned and walked away.
"Rob, wait," Mrs. Killyack said. She came up to him and hugged him. "Thank you," she said.
Rob regarded her with surprise. "For what?"
"For making our daughter so happy," she sniffed. Rob responded somberly by giving her a long hug. "Like I told her, 'anything for a fan.'"
"And I'm sorry about Rebecca," she continued. "It must have been hard coming here."
Rob shrugged and brought his eyes up to the tree that was giving Cassandra's grave shade. "It was," he choked out. He had done so much crying in the past week, his body was becoming physically incapable of crying anymore.
Rebecca had been dead before the officers found her. The combination of the sleeping pills and the medicine she had been taking for her sickness was too potent for her weakened body to handle. Rob was informed of this while he was at the police station. The whole band already knew. He hated showing any sort of weakness in front of anyone, but he couldn't stop himself from breaking down in front of everyone. It had been a long, hard week for him and the entire band. The rest of the tour had been cancelled and Rob flew down to Florida for Rebecca's funeral. The next day he came back to Detroit for Cassandra's. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to attend the funeral, but Rob felt almost obligated to go. So he did, as painful as it was.
Rob was about to turn and leave when he noticed a movement in the tree above him. He looked up and saw a white dove fly out of the tree and land on the ground next to Rob. It looked up at him, and he looked down at it. The two stared silently at each other for a moment before the dove chirped and took flight again, heading out of the cemetary.
Rob watched it fly away. In spite of all the pain he had suffered in the last week, in spite of the fact he could physically feel his heart breaking at that moment, he smiled.