Children of the Fallen: Bloodlines (BOOK #3)

Chapter 16: Morbid Curiosity

Hey! Hope everyone's enjoying so far :)

This chapter and the chapter in the previous book where Morgan sat and looked at them through the window— both literally inspired this whole series. The ideas of those scenes came into my head after I listened to Unsaid Emily from Julie and the Phantoms.

From there it became this.
Just wanted to pop in and say that little fun fact.

Enjoy. ♥️

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Morgan Sinclair

I haven't stepped foot in here for over 19 years. I'm not entirely sure why I'm here right now. Morbid curiosity maybe. Standing in the threshold of the back door to my old home I raise my hand up to the door pressing my palm against the cool glass. It was entirely unsafe but the back door was always kept unlocked. Taking hold of the handle I slide open the door and stare into the unlit interior of the home. My leg hesitates to step inside as though I shouldn't go in here, like I don't deserve to and if I do I'm crossing some line.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to step forward. Once inside, I finally allow myself to breathe and the familiar scent of that vanilla and rose candle my mom always bought in bulk and constantly had burning still lingers in the air. Raising my hand, I reach to find the light switch on the wall to my left. The low hum of the overhead kitchen light relieves some tension in my body. I clench my fists resisting the urge to claw at my neck as I open my eyes before walking further.

My shoes against the tile and my own heart beating being the only sound in the house makes a disconcerting feeling settle into my bones. It's been two months since their deaths and reported "car accident" and the house looks like it hasn't been touched since then. I go straight to the fridge housing various pictures and random accomplishments. Years and years missed. Years that some distant part of me wishes I could've been apart of. Family photos of vacations and birthdays and Christmases all that I wasn't there for. Wedding photos of Lindsey and her husband, and Chris and his wife. Baby pictures of my niece and nephew to their most recent school photos. I think Avery's 15 and Colton's 11- now without a mother. I wonder if Lindsey, looking down at me now and seeing me for who I really am makes her ashamed to have named her daughter after me. I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she was.

A letter right next to the fridge catches my attention. From Lindsey, it reads. I take out my phone and write down the address noticing that it's in Michigan. She's been living in my territory and I had no idea.

Going back to the fridge I search through the dozens of photos on it. I don't deserve to feel hurt over the fact that I wasn't here for any of it but here I am feeling hurt. Grieving what could've been. Grieving them... guilt has been foreign to me for so long, now it feels like a physical onslaught, an aching pain that won't stop.

In the top left corner there's a baby photo of myself along with my high school graduation photo. I take the grad photo staring at a girl that feels so foreign to me. Smiling like she has not a care in the world, that the most concerning things going on in her life was her "type 1 diabetes," tiredness, and loneliness.

She had no idea.

If she could see her now I think she'd spontaneously combust. The only thing that remains the same is the loneliness and our anger. My anger usually ends with people dying while hers got shoved down to the deepest parts of her and ignored until it began to consume her entire being. Still, we share an anger towards the lack of true control over our lives. Where she was at the mercy of the unknown, I'm at the mercy of Lucien.

Everything else about us? I do wonder what a conversation between the two of us would be like. Probably her shaking and crying, frantically asking questions, and me... I don't think I'd know what to say to her.