A Devil Named Aidan ✓

Chapter One

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It was the ways her eyes just switched off; they darkened once she looked at me. I will never forget that night, the night where my mother stared at me as if I were nothing but a mere stranger to her. Not the daughter she used to love, laugh, and live with- no, the complete opposite. And because of that exact moment, I knew it was all my fault.

The entire thing is to be blamed on me.

Who else could it be blamed at?

My brother was not even there, it was just me and him...

I took the love of her life away because of one stupid mistake. My feet is kicked up on the wall as I contemplate the remainder of my life, my football bounces from the ceiling back to the safety net of my own hands.

Staring at the ceiling while I caught my football, I begin to consider my future and for some reason it became a strange habit.

A future that does not exist.

My head falls to the corner of my room where a box of my dad's things lay, I'll always blame myself for that night.

Jake, my brother, offered me a place to live since mum basically kicked me out. She does not like putting it that way, but it is very obvious her intentions behind it. She could not continue to face her husbands killer day and night.

I killed the love of her life, the man she wanted to grow old with-she has no one now.

I wipe my tear with the back of my hand.

My brother hates it when I admit it was my fault, he always tells me to never blame myself or to just shut the fuck up.

He wasn't there.

He doesn't understand.

My therapist also reminds me that if I can't forgive myself, how could I let people in my life? Easy. I always have an answer to everything, this answer is one nobody likes.

I don't.

I don't let people in my life because there is no need to, they all leave eventually and leave you upset. Why should I purposefully put my heart and soul into a relationship with someone that is going to break anyways? I don't understand people. They're willing to sacrifice their kind hearts for a couple of good, fake memories with others.

I glance down at the outline of a flame tattooed on my wrist, throwing the football onto the ground-I sit up properly slide both my hands down my hair to smoothen it out. My eyes locks with the frame of them, I feel tears wanting to slide down my eyes.

I stand, walk towards the frame, and grab it.

My hands suddenly shake, I slowly sink to my knees and hold the frame ever so close to my heart. He was also my father, my best friend. Unable to handle anything more emotional, I shove the frame into his box of things and walk out of the bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I release a short breath.

My stomach suddenly begins to growl with hunger, I take the idea and walk down the hall to the kitchen. However, halfway through my walk I pause by the living room and see an unfamiliar figure standing by the television. My heart rate increases, my back flings against the wall beside the door frame as I take slight looks inside.