The sun hung low in the sky as mourners gathered at the grand old church for Jamal's funeral. The building itself was a majestic structure, its weathered stone façade a testament to the history it held within. Tall stained glass windows adorned with vibrant biblical scenes added a touch of solemn beauty to the solemn atmosphere.

Jamal's family was a kaleidoscope of different shades of brown, a testament to the diversity of the community that had come to pay their respects. They gathered, somber and teary-eyed, outside the church, offering condolences and sharing stories of the young man who had touched so many lives.

Inside the church, the pews were filled to capacity with people who had loved Jamal. Friends, family, classmates, and neighbors all came to say their final goodbyes. Even the girls Zuri had briefly sat with on that fateful night were present, one of them nursing an injured arm in a sling.

Esha guided her family to an empty pew, Zion grumbling quietly under his breath. He had never been fond of this particular church, with its ostentatious displays of wealth and the dubious intentions of Pastor Petersen. The man seemed more interested in collecting hefty donations than in spreading the teachings of love and compassion.

As if on cue, Pastor Petersen approached them, a false smile plastered on his face. "Zion, good to see you," he greeted, his voice dripping with insincerity. "You used to be a great Deacon."

Zion forced a polite smile, but his disdain for the pastor was palpable. The church's hypocrisy and the pastor's questionable motives had long grated on him, and today was no exception.

"Pastor," he responded curtly.

Esha shot her husband a warning glance, knowing full well the strained relationship between him and the pastor. "Pastor, it's great to see you, too. We appreciate you letting us use the church for Jamal's funeral. I know it means a lot to the family."

"Of course, of course," the pastor said, his tone insincere. "Anything for a friend."

Zion and Esha exchanged a knowing look, both aware of the pastor's ulterior motives. Still, they remained civil, for Jamal's sake.

"So, Zion, how's the construction business? Still keeping those houses looking good?" The pastor asked, his smile as fake as his concern.

"Business is great," Zion replied, his voice strained. "How's the church?"

The pastor chuckled, clearly sensing Zion's discomfort. "The church is doing well. We're always grateful for the support of the community. Without them, we wouldn't be able to do all the good work that we do."

"Is that right?" Zion remarked dryly.

Zuri watched as the two men began to exchange heated words. She knew that her father had never liked the pastor and his methods, but she was surprised by the intensity of their argument. She glanced at her mother, who wore a mask of calm, despite the chaos erupting around them.

"You're just like the rest of them," Zion accused.

"Them? You mean those that question the church?" The pastor replied.

"Yes. You're all hypocrites."

"Hypocrites? I don't think so. You're the one who's questioning the church. Who's the real hypocrite?"

Zion's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "You're all the same. Preaching about love and acceptance while turning a blind eye to the injustices happening around you."

"I think you're the one who's turning a blind eye," the pastor shot back.

Zion's voice grew louder as he argued with the pastor. "I ain't giving you another dime, Petersen! You're more interested in our money than our souls. You've been corrupting this community for years!"

The pastor's eyes narrowed, and he raised a finger, pointing it accusingly at Zion. "You, Zion Davis, are a bad person. You've led your children astray, not bringing them to the house of the Lord."

"Don't you dare bring my kids into this. You don't know shit about me," Zion seethed.

Zuri felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She looked to her mom, hoping for a signal that she should step in, but Esha remained resolute.

"I know that you're a heathen," the pastor countered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I know that you're a bad example to your children."

"You're the one who's corrupting the youth of this community," Zion insisted.

Zuri's memories flashed back to her childhood, faint recollections of her mother occasionally bringing her to church. It had never been a regular occurrence, and Zuri's religious upbringing had been a mix of different beliefs and traditions.

"Boys!" Esha whisper-shouted, her voice carrying a stern warning as she tried to diffuse the escalating confrontation.

Pastor Petersen, with a smug expression, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his suit as he replied to Esha, "Sorry, Sister Davis, at least someone in your family comes to church."

Zion's anger boiled over, and he took a step forward, his fists clenched. "I've had enough of you, Pastor."

"Dad," Jordan called out, his voice low and concerned. The sixteen year old's locs were tied up into a bun.

Zuri reached for her father's hand, her heart racing. "Dad, please, let's just go. This isn't the time or the place."

The pastor shook his head. "Zion, Zion, Zion, you are the definition of a sinner. And you, Zuri, are the daughter of a sinner."

"Don't talk to my daughter like that," Zion warned.

"Why? What are you gonna do about it, big man?" the pastor challenged.

"Guys!" Esha shouted, her voice filled with exasperation.

A tense silence fell over the group, and the pastor finally stepped aside, his expression smug.

Zuri shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling the weight of the tension in the air. The pastor's judgmental attitude and Zion's defiant stance had cast a pall over Jamal's funeral, a stark reminder of the complexities and contradictions within the community.

As Pastor Petersen ascended the church pulpit with a smile, the strained expressions of Zuri's parents and the nonchalant boredom of her brother Jordan were a stark contrast. Their collective eye-rolls spoke volumes about their opinions of the pastor's grandstanding.

Zuri felt like the world was swirling in and out of focus around her, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest like a leaden blanket. She listened to the pastor's speech, a string of well-rehearsed platitudes and religious proclamations.

"Dear brothers and sisters, we gather here today to mourn the loss of a young soul, taken from us far too soon," Pastor Petersen began, his voice carrying the practiced cadence of a seasoned orator.

"Jamal was a light in this world, a bright star shining in the darkness. His kindness and generosity will be greatly missed by his family and friends."

Zuri could hear the sniffles and sobs of Jamal's loved ones echoing through the church, the sound of their grief filling the air. Her own eyes stung with unshed tears as she remembered the last time she had seen Jamal, a bittersweet memory filled with love and regret.

"He is now at peace, freed from the burdens of this mortal realm, and his spirit is with the Lord," the pastor continued, his voice taking on a hushed, reverent tone.

"Jamal was the essence of humility...unlike some of us in this congregation," the pastor continued.

Zuri couldn't help but notice the not-so-subtle jibe at her father, whose clenched fists and tightly pursed lips betrayed his indignation.

"He was a friend to all, a kind soul who cared for others before himself. His life was cut short, but his legacy will live on in our hearts and minds," the pastor concluded, his voice breaking with emotion.

After the pastor's speech, it was time for attendees to pay their respects at Jamal's casket. Zuri walked up slowly, her heart heavy with grief. Jamal lay in the casket, looking peaceful, but the serenity of his face didn't fit the somber atmosphere. He didn't deserve to be here at the age of 22, his life abruptly cut short.

He was wearing a white suit with gold trim, a color that Zuri had never imagined he'd wear, and it was hard to reconcile this Jamal with the Jamal she'd known. Her gaze lingered on his face, which was a canvas of dark and light.

"Hrm," Pastor Perterson cleared his throat, as if reminding Zuri that her moment of reflection had gone on for too long.

She reluctantly turned away from the casket, the tears that had been brimming in her eyes finally spilling down her cheeks. "I heard you were the last one to see Jamal alive. Is that true?"

Zuri nodded, unable to speak.

"You should feel ashamed for being the last person to see him alive," the pastor hissed, his tone accusatory.

"Excuse me?" Zuri said, taken aback by the pastor's harsh words.

"If you allowed him go to that wretched party, he'd still be alive," Pastor Petersen replied.

"Pastor, I-"

"Do not speak," the pastor interrupted. "You allowed Jamal to be at that party, and he ended up dead. It's all your fault."

Zuri was stunned by the pastor's accusation. She wanted to argue, to defend herself, but the words died on her lips. She had been blaming herself for Jamal's death since the moment she learned of it, and the pastor's words only served to deepen her guilt.

The pastor shook his head. "If you had any respect for the Lord, you'd never have let Jamal go to that party. I hope you know that Jamal is burning in hell for your sins. Repent and pray, and maybe he will have mercy on you."

"But, I didn't-"

"Silence," the pastor hissed. "Your presence is an affront to this church, and I want you out. Now."

Zuri's mouth gaped, her shock and anger mixing in an uncomfortable cocktail.

"Get out," the pastor repeated, his voice cold and commanding.

As the weight of it all pressed down on her, Zuri felt the world closing in around her. Her breaths grew shallow, and her heart raced erratically. Panic gripped her, and she couldn't control the rising tide of despair.

Zuri's vision blurred, and her chest tightened further, making it difficult to breathe. She gasped for air, struggling to maintain her composure amidst the sea of mourners. Her body trembled as she tried to hold back the overwhelming wave of panic threatening to consume her.

"Breathe," she told herself. "Just breathe."

But it was no use. The dam had burst, and there was no stopping the flood of emotions now surging through her. She looked around people looked at her like she was a monster, and the judgment in their eyes only amplified her anguish.

She needed to get out of there.

She needed to find a place where she felt safe.

With the pastor's harsh words echoing in her ears and the eyes of the mourners upon her, Zuri pushed her way through the crowd, each step feeling like a battle against an invisible force holding her back. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she stumbled out of the church, seeking refuge from the overwhelming situation.

Once outside, the cool air hit her face, offering a small measure of relief. Zuri leaned against the church's stone exterior, trying to steady her breathing. The world seemed to spin around her, the sounds of the city a distant, muffled hum.

Tears streamed down her face, a mix of grief, frustration, and sheer panic. She felt lost and alone, her emotions a tangled mess she couldn't seem to unravel. The guilt, the accusations, and the overwhelming sense of responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders.

"Why?" she whispered to the uncaring sky. "Why did this have to happen?"

Zuri's thoughts raced back to Jamal, to the moments they shared, and to the crushing reality that he was gone forever. She couldn't shake the feeling that she could have done something, anything, to prevent this tragedy. The pastor's words, as cruel as they were, echoed the darkest fears already lurking in her mind.

She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking comfort in the midst of her turmoil. Zuri knew she needed to be strong, to be there for Jamal's family and her own, but at that moment, she felt anything but strong.

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Zuri's breathing gradually slowed, and the initial wave of panic subsided. She wiped the tears from her face, determined not to let the pastor's words define her or her memories of Jamal.

With a deep, steadying breath, Zuri straightened up. She knew she couldn't face the mourners again, not now. She needed space, time to process everything on her own terms.

Zuri began to walk, her steps slow and unsteady at first, but gradually gaining strength as she moved further away from the church. The city's sounds began to filter back in, a reminder that life continued around her, even if her world felt like it had come crashing down.

As she walked, Zuri made a silent promise to herself and to Jamal. She would not let the pastor's words define her or her relationship with Jamal. She would remember the good times, the laughter, and the bond they shared. And she would find a way to move forward, one step at a time.

For now, Zuri just walked, letting the rhythm of her steps guide her through the storm of emotions raging within. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay where she was. She needed to find a place where she could breathe again, where she could begin to heal.