𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒, 𝐭.𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

03. falling apart.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

WARNINGS: this chapter mentions a
character going through a loss. please
read with caution :).

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

waking up to the news that my dad was gone was the worst possible way to wake up ever. the weirdest part about it is that i felt the need to go online and announce that i was taking a break. my dad just died and i have to apologise.

the morning was rough, full of tears into my pillow and my mums shoulder. she was struggling just as much. refusing to drink and eat, i was dehydrated, bringing on a headache with the countless tears didn't help.

my hair was a large tangled mess on the top of my head in a bun, my teeth were unbrushed and i was wearing the same thing i went to visit him in just two days prior.

my friends were all messaging me, asking if i was okay, regarding my tweet and instagram story. larissa tried her best to comfort me, and tommy was trying to make sure i was okay and eating and drinking.

all i fed them was lies, saying i'm okay and i'll be back to my normal self soon. as a matter of fact, i was not okay. it felt like i was never going to be okay again.

"mum, i can't fucking do this shit. it's been twelve hours and i'm already falling apart." i sobbed to my mum as i hid my face in one of my dad's sweatshirts, his scent still filling it.

"look, valerie." she sniffled beside me. "we're going to be okay, he's not in pain anymore. i love you, he loves you. he's watching over us."

"it's not the same, though." my voice cracked and i looked over at her. "he might be watching over us, but it's not the same. no one told me it was going to be this hard."

"i know, darling, i know."

we'd spent the day in her bed, crying and looking at old pictures. i ended up spending half of my bank balance online, unintentionally using retail therapy. did it make me feel much better? not really.

in my head, i was in denial somewhat. telling myself it wasn't real and that he was going to be home soon made it better for a moment, until reality hit me and i started to understand he really wasn't coming home.

using my platform, i managed to get involved with a charity to raise money for cancer and all i had to do was make a video on youtube so that people could see it and donate. i still wasn't ready to sit down and talk to a camera about it, so i decided i'd wait till i could cope with it a little better before putting myself in an uncomfortable situation.

"it feels wrong, being sat here." i mumbled, "on his side of the bed. he should be sat here, drinking his coffee and talking about a football match."

whilst my mum and i went through old things, we came across the collection of the birthday cards he wrote for me over the years. taking the one from my eighteenth birthday, i sobbed as i read it in my head, but kept that one out of the box.

the simple 'dad x' at the bottom suddenly became ten thousand times more meaningful, and i booked a tattoo appointment for the next day. as much as i didn't want to go out and do things, it's what he would want.

from that point forward, everything was for him.

ALICE TALKS ⋆˙⟡♡

little bit of a shorter one 2day, hope u liked it regardless:) i understand grief may not be like this, but everybody deals w it differently:)