Strong

Chapter 1

Hey guys, this is my first story and wattpad which I thought I would make a fanfic. So since it is my first one I would love some feedback! I hope you guys like it!

The girl on the photo above is how I picture Samira <3

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The wind rushed past me, whipping my hair around as I ran, the smell of the pine trees pulling the life back into me. This was my escape. It seemed only here that the past had no grip on me. I knew this forest like the back of my hand, there was no better place to get lost.

For years I had come to these woods with only a small backpack and a journal. Here, was where my inspiration was found to write little songs or poems. Whenever Devan was home, I would read them to him. But I wasn't sure if he was coming home.

Devan had only been gone for 5 nights at the most. Never three weeks. He said going to Denver would help us and one day he would tell me why, just not now. He promised that staying there for a few nights was for my own good. But staying out for so long wasn't benefiting me at all. I had almost run out of the jar of jiffy peanut butter and what used to be a whole slice of toast had gone down into quarters.

This felt just like when dad started drinking, knowing something was wrong but clutching onto the bit of hope you had that things would end well. That hope was what kept me going for 8 years, even as he cared for us less and less and hours of being gone turned to nights and nights turned into days till all that was left of him was a pile of wine bottles by the trash.

Dad hardly ever drank when we lived in Sweden, his home country. According to Devan, he was happy when we lived there. But then it got too expensive so we had to move to The States. Not long after he discovered that his wife had cancer and we just couldn't afford the treatment for her which resulted in her death and alcohol taking over his life.

"Why does daddy do this?" I remember asking Devan, my innocent blue eyes staring into his.
"He thinks it will wash away the pain of moms death. But all he does is realize that the pain will never leave and with every bottle hopes he will be wrong."
I flipped to the first page of my tattered notebook, gently tracing my fingers along the faded words.

Nights stretch into days

Months turn into years

Even thought I lost you then

Sometimes it's like you're still here

I can see you in the sunset

I can see you in the aspen trees

I can see you wishing to come back to me

I closed the notebook quickly as I felt a tear trickle down my cheeks. I wish I could go back to when I was young before cancer took my mom and alcohol took my dad. I wish those days had just lasted a little bit longer. Instead, they were all faded like my notebook pages.

I glanced down at the old cracked watch. It was all I had left of my mom, but it still worked so I had a habit of looking down at it to remind myself I still had time left to go beyond my broken past.

I looked up above the mountain to see a the bright colors of purple, blue, orange and red painted across the sky. I knew that was my signal to head back home.

The town which I call home isn't really much more than a ski town really. The only business it made was off of tourists who come here during winter to ski. My house just looked like the others, a small cabin-like house.

I prayed under my breath that Devan would be home soon. But we I turned the lights I only saw that everything was just as I had left if, untidy counters and all.

It wasn't long before all the 'what if' thoughts poured into my head. What if Devan never came back? What if I had to leave because Devan couldn't take care of me?

My thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock at the door. The sound of the wood creaking under the bang of the persons fist sounded almost foreign to me. Devan must be seriously drunk to even bother knocking at the door. I shivered at the thought of even knowing how he got home. I slowly walked to the door, braising myself for whatever state Devan might be in. I was taken aback by the sight of a plump man with brown hair down to his eyebrows and a small police coat on with a matching hat with a dark stain on it.

"Hello, I'm officer Maylo. I believe this is the home of the Jakobsson family correct?"

"Umm yes sir." I replied. What in the world was this officer doing here? I was dreading the day this would happen. I knew our neighbors were rather suspicious of Devan and did keep a close watch on the house but I was not at all prepared for this.

"Are you Samira?" He asked me, taking off his stained hat.

"Yes." There was a sadness I could see cringing in his brown eyes.

"May I come in please?" Officer Maylo asked.

"Yeah sure I guess." I said, feeling my face turn red as I saw his eyes glance at the messy counters and the mountains of dirt on the floor. I would've never dreamed of having anyone ever come here besides Devan. To my relief, Officer Maylo seemed unaffected by the mess. He pulled out the chair by the table and sat down, putting his hands behind his head.

"Samira, this may come as a shock to you but there is no easy way for me to say it so I will have to say this straight up." I began to shake, wishing I had given this possibility more thought. I swallowed, nodding, trying to prepare myself for whatever was coming.

"Devan is dead. He was shot on Wednesday night and we found his body in an alley in Denver." It was like the roof had fell on me, a roof with ten thousand pounds of bricks on top of it. The bricks bearing the weight and fear of what my future would hold. Devan had managed to provide for me all this time and felt like the only solid thing I had left. Time seemed to freeze and I felt trapped, like the wall that was my life kept coming in closer in closer, keeping my from ever finding a way out.

"You will be sent to England in two days to live with your aunt and cousin." The world seemed to just stop at that point. I didn't even know how to begin taking this all in.

"Don't worry, I know you're in shock right now and this is a lot to take in but I am willing to answer any questions you have if you feel ready."

I've never been the type of person to do things when I'm ready, because I never am ready. Life has a tendency to throw things at me when I'm not ready, perhaps I will never be ready. I nodded.

"Who killed Devan?" I asked weakly, trying to be strong, fighting back the tears that I could feel rushing to my eyes.

"We don't know. We are investigating. We haven't gotten any witnesses so we don't have much to go on."

"Officer, I don't have family in England."

"Samira, you are aware that your mother was born in England and is an English citizen right?"

"I knew she was British but I didn't know she had siblings." Since my mother died when I was just five, I never knew much about her. Dad hated talking about her so I never knew anything much.

"Well she has a sister named Anne if I recall and a son named Harry." I was praying this didn't mean what I thought it meant.

"Wait, you mean as in Harry Styles?" At this point I was almost sure this was a nightmare.

Our town did have a small school but I'm pretty sure they had the worst group of girls. Though my class was small, the girls constantly obsessed over One Direction. It got on my nerves so much that the thought of even seeing them drove me crazy.

"I assume so. How could you not know?" How come Devan never told me? He surely would've known. I knew Harry and I had the same last name but I had no idea we were actually related.

"I don't know. Nobody ever told me."
There was always that one story about some kid who got a bad dream and woke up feeling relieved to know it wasn't real. All the readers rested in knowing that, but nobody ever wonders what would happen to that kid if the nightmare was real. I was that kid, but I wouldn't get the pleasure of knowing this was just a dream, no, I was in the middle of a living nightmare.