No one came right out and said it and that bothered me more that it should have. No one came straight out and told me "Jennie, they're dead." No; I only got the crap filled lies about how they 'felt my pain' or how 'sorry' they were. But they didn't feel my pain. They didn't know what it was like to lose two parents on the same day, same time. They didn't know what it was like to now have the title of 'orphan.' And what were they sorry for? Sorry they died? Well I am sorry too but no one seems to give a crap about the little sister. Not even my brothers. They were too caught up in their own broken hearts and heads to notice their10 year old sister standing next in front of the two mahogany caskets with gold latches. They didn't notice how tears spilled down my burning cheeks or how I was barely managing to breathe from this sadness that was suffocating me. They didn't notice how I needed a hug.

They just didn't notice me.

I starred through the tear induced haze, looking down at my mom's perfect face. Death hadn't touched her beauty. Her dark hair still shone as it did when its host was alive and her face was set into a kind expression; one void of a smile. If not for the ceased beating of her heart, she could have been sleeping. In fact, I expected her to be. I expected her to open her eyes and smile at me and reach over to hold me and wipe away my tears. But never again would she. She was dead. She left me.

I looked to my father and bit my lip harder than I ever have before. He was the only one who noticed. The only one who cared enough to see and now he was gone. Death had taken him. The scars adorning his face were proof enough for that. They told me that he shielded mom from the blow in hopes she would live but it was all in vain. They both still left the world of the living. They both still left me.

Lifting a shaking hand I wiped away my tears, not caring for the dark stains on my black dress. My hand curled around the last thing my mother gave me: a locket. One window held a picture of me and her and the other of the whole family. A picture reminding me of a time when everything was better, when the Jonas family was untouched by the title of 'orphan' and untouched by this sorrow.

I managed to tear my gaze away from the inhabitants in the wooden cases and looked to my brothers who were all sitting in the first pew, attempting to comfort one another as others gave them pity-filled looks or patted them on the shoulder. I should be sitting with them, crying with them, but it didn't feel right to leave our parents yet. I had to memorize their faces-this was the last time I would ever see the again. I starred for a moment at Nick, who was trying to hide his tears with a bowed head but everyone saw the way his shoulders shook and how rain fell onto his tuxedo pants. Joe sat on his right side, head on Nick's shoulder and freely crying. His eyes met mine briefly but he looked away pained when he saw Mom's eyes on my face. I couldn't blame him; I could barely look in my mirror this morning. I was Denise Jonas's exact replica with my father's nose. It hurt to look at me because we would always be reminded of what we lost. Kevin had his arms around both of his brothers as he sat on Nick's other side. His chin was on top of Nick's curls and I saw him whispering comforting and unheard words. But it was hard to comfort when your own heart was shattered beyond repair.

I couldn't bring myself to look back at my parents and I knew me being in my brother's presence would only pain them more so I left. I walked through the back doors of the majestic church and let the cold air wash over me. This cold mimicked the temperature of my heart. It felt good-better than the undying chill of death inside. I walked out in the lawn, avoiding the cemetery completely in knowledge that within the hour, my parents would call that place home.

I looked back, wondering if anyone saw my leaving but no one bothered to follow the distraught ten year old. They just didn't bother to notice.

I was alone.

I was hurt.

I was an orphan.