𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒

This is me trying 21

This is me trying by Taylor Swift

Long days in the hospital were over. The Grey's mansion was empty. The life of each family member was drowned out by the past events. My soul was lonely wandering in the halls of my childhood house. The warm August breeze traced my skin, tickling my bare arms.

It has been two weeks since the accident. The worst part was facing the situation at the funeral. The silent tears mixed with the wind. I couldn't stand there in the black dress while all the people looked with eyes full of sympathy my way.

Surprisingly I turned my back on everybody. It was wrong, yet I couldn't face them. The only thing on my mind was revenge. The lack of information and any evidence made the whole thing more difficult. Hard to start somewhere, when you have nothing. Only ashes of the past hunting you. And the thoughts were hunting me. I haven't talked, nor answered the phone. My room was a safe place for me to stay. Also it was a prison.

Donna found out about the pregnancy and it was easier for her state. She laid in bed, tears slowly leaving her blue eyes, her hands placed on the belly. She suffered a lot. Jasper felt better, after the surgery he couldn't walk for days. The news of the baby lightened up somewhat the whole thing around them. Grief and delight fought together.

Calvin tried to reach me, yet failed. He was out of the hospital. Multiple missed calls and worried messages I never cared to reply. It was wrong to shut him down. Nevertheless, I had no strength for it. The deep conversations and hugs. I never told him about my suspicions on his father. How do you spill the truth that may be painful?

Also nobody knew about a male who broke into our house. Police haven't found him yet. They were still on the run after him. However, it was a difficult task to catch a shadow. The only thing I saw were his shoes.

My footsteps echoed through the silent house. Making my way down stairs, I came to a hold the sight of the family photo. I sat on the white chair, holding Donna's hand, my father held our shoulders, while our mother stood beside him, her palm on his strong shoulder. The picture made me sick. Not in a bad way, more like in disappointment.

The frame was perfect, along the smiles on our faces. Yet the glass shattered, leaving memories wandering around the house. Their souls live here. They don't speak, nor do they laugh. They admire us, capture the moment we are leaving without them. And we learn to live without their presence.

-

The coffee shop wasn't busy. It was Wednesday, most people were working, no time for a coffee break. This is what I needed and I didn't want to stay at home. The place was bright and people followed their routine. They didn't ask you how you feel, or if you need any help. Here they were busy with themselves and barely noticed you.

In the shop were shelves with books. While you drink coffee, you may borrow a book and read it here. It was smart, due to many people here sipping on their drinks and reading the book of choice. The bright atmosphere allowed my thoughts to slow down.

I sat at the corner table, sipping dark coffee with no sugar and no milk. The cup was painted with daisies. The owner of the shop, Lucy, painted the cups herself. The woman was creative. Each detail she put on several cups came from her heart. The walls were holding memories of her. She passed away a few years ago due to the cancer.

Now the shop belonged to her son, Andrew. The man is talkative, full of sarcasm and filled with light. He also painted a wall inside. A woman with a brown hat holding a bouquet of daisies, a golden retriever beside her and a soft smile on her lips. It was Lucy. He admired his mother, as if she stood right across from him.

The brunette girl walked through the doors of the shop. Her eyes instantly found me.

"Hey," she smiled. "Can I?" Lillian pointed towards the chair.