Gone

Chapter Three

The next day, I found myself staring blankly out my window, the silence roaring in my ears, louder than any sound I had heard before.

I have no plans today.

The thought made me involuntarily shiver.

The thought of being alone stabbed at me like a knife constantly.

The lack of people was a sore reminder of what I've lost. The empty space that was once filled.

I shook my head, these thoughts would only leave me depressed. I would spend my Saturday enjoying myself; I was determined.

I started with a quick shower. I wasn't about to let myself grow lazy and drift off in the stream of hot water.

The nightmares had returned last night, I hadn't slept very well.

Sighing, I stepped out of the steam filled shower, dried off, and dressed promptly.

Not long after, the smell of eggs was wafting on the air, teasing my nostrils as they bubbled and cooked.

I added caramelized onions and ham this time. I had experimented. Something I didn't do often. That was what Evie does, usually.

I froze.

What Evie did. I reminded myself.

Sighing, I flipped the eggs and grabbed a plate.

Determined not to feel sorry for myself, I turned on a comedy show.

Soon enough I was smiling and my stomach ceased its angry grumbling.

An hour ticked by, easily, though I was surprised when I saw it had been that long.

"You'll ruin your eyes and rot your brain, you know," a voice scolded me in the back of my head.

A familiar voice. My mother.

The voice brought back memories, like opening a scar.

I wasn't surprised to feel tears accumulating in my eyes. Blinking, I wiped them away and did my best to move on.

It had been five years, the pain had dulled, but it never left me. It followed me everywhere I went. No matter what I said or did, it was always there, a constant reminder of how much a person could lose.

Every time I saw a family in the store, I had to fight the urge to run to them, tears in my eyes and hands trembling, begging them not to squander a moment. Not to make the mistake I did of taking it for granted.

Feeling my heart throb painfully in my chest, I forced myself up from the couch, knowing the best solution.

It was always my last resort, something I never wanted to overuse to the point where it didn't help anymore. But at this point it was like morphine to somebody in pain.

I wasn't physically in pain, but the letters were worth as much to me as morphine is to someone who was.

I slowly opened the closet door, my eyes locking on my target, a small, round, red box.

It wasn't blood red, or bright red, but a soft red, just light enough to catch one's eye, but not too bright.
My fingers laced around the box, a sigh escaping my lips.

I brought it back to the couch, and gently opened it.
It contained several pictures, but more importantly, slips of paper.

These slips of paper were priceless.

Words written from the clever young mind of my sister.

I opened the first, my mouth twitching up slightly, I was between frowning and smiling, my mouth a firm line of solemnity that only wavered when the emotions tormenting me inside managed to break a hole through my countenance.