FORMERLY V D' YAVOL.
For as long as she can remember, Dream has been... dreaming. Very vividly. She saw how her childhood dog died two days before he actually did, so she had plenty of time to prepare herself-her words. She's been to plenty psycholo...
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ONE YEAR LATER.
The air was cold and crisp around me. My black coat fluttered in the snowy breeze that surrounded me, and many other people. There hung a deep grey, heavy rain cloud above our heads as we all stood straight-backed and head down, staring at the ground with the hole in.
Tears embedded themselves on my bottom waterline and a salty, fat tear slowly trickled down my Winter bitten, pale cheeks. My nails dug into the soft skin of my palms and I winced slightly, yet made no move to pull out my personal weapons from my skin.
My mother's sniffles next to me were starting to piss me off; i didn't know why she was crying.
She hated him.
Yet she never showed it wholly. She would always say snarky things behind his back and feed me the most atrocious lies whenever he wasn't close. She wasn't a fan of him, and neither was he of her.
The grass below me allowed my black heels to gently stab into it. I wished the ground would swallow me in. Father stood at the head of the group, with a bible in his hand and a solemn expression on his face.
My heart ached. Deeply and completely, pain encapsulated my entire being as I stared at the dark oak casket slowly move deeper and deeper into the professionally dug hole. The people around me, dressed in nothing but black and their pale, crying faces, watched me.
They stared and whispered and some even pointed at me when I lit a cigarette and put it between my chapped lips.
It was funny, really.
I always expected my mother to go first. Well with her drug use and undisciplined behaviour to a Father, I always thought God would take her first. Sometimes, I even wished for it. My father was my best friend before I could fully comprehend what that was.
Although, as I got older, he started to brush me off more. Ignore me sometimes.
And that was why I wasn't sad about him dying today.
I was sad because it was his birthday today.
The man I haven't seen in a year and eleven months. He was thirty two today. I wondered if he was greying. He always complained that he was going to start greying soon. But I told him at least his hairline wasn't receding, and then he'd laugh so hard that his eyes would close, and my heart would break in my chest.
I only started to understand why he didn't want anything to do with me when Alexander explained it to me.
"Kirill is...a very gentle man, actually. His heart is made of nothing but clouds and velvet. He cares. About everything. And he loves hard, I saw it with my own eyes. He cares and loves for you, Dreamy. And that's why he has to let you go. Between the clouds and velvet, he is still a ruthless killer. Between the caring and loving, he kills. Sometimes for fun. A man who kills for pleasure cannot be loved by a woman who cries whilst watching puppy videos,"
