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-I came here to find release and the only thing I found was a pain in the ass-
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That time, when I didn't show up at breakfast, no one came to my room to give me shit for it. My mother must've told them about our conversation a few hours ago, but I didn't really care.
Because Flames weren't allowed to sleep in their houses the day before leaving, Elaine wasn't there anymore to wake me up. It was strange how I already missed it. She knew how much I hated being an early bird, so she only came to knock on my door when everyone was seated and food was on the table.
She didn't necessarily have to, but she cut my food in two before every meal. I wasn't a fucking child, but it was a stupid thing I couldn't eat without. My brain was weird that way. I could've cut it myself, but it was already split in two whenever I went downstairs.
Now, we were in the main garden—the place we told goodbye to our loved ones, and even though I knew I should've spent as much time as I could with my sister with the chances of her never coming back, I couldn't stop staring at my family. All of them were shaped in the form of liars, my trust being that easy to lose.
Mom was patting Elaine on the back with a huge and false smile on her face, the dark circles under her eyes telling more than her lips ever could and my sister kept moving her weight from one leg to another, nervously glancing around.
Callum, my uncle, whispered something into his wife's ear and they both laughed as if this was something to celebrate. He seemed to love Davina and as much as I loved him, she was the only person I couldn't stand being around. Especially now, when she's having the best time of her life, curling a strand of hair on her finger while she clung to Callum like the goddamn plague.
I looked away, not wanting to cause a scene at their indifference towards Elaine leaving. I couldn't stop thinking it's going to be the same way next year when it'll be my turn to leave.
Someone fluffed my hair and it wasn't a mystery to me who did it. Both of my brothers loved to treat me like a child even if Lysander was one year older than me and Kenneth six. If I had to be honest, Lysander was far more mature than Kenneth despite his age.
"Would wearing some colors hurt you?" Kenneth asked, coming from behind me and throwing his arm around my shoulders.
"Leave her alone," Lysander intervened.
My eyes moved to Kenneth's blue ones. "I'm wearing black to mourn my death next year since no one seems worried about it."
Lysander cracked a laugh at my joke, our humor matching most of the time.
My older brother huffed. "You're never going to die, Sky," he messed with my hair and I stepped out of his embrace to put some distance between us as I measured him with my eyes.
