Blue Ribbon

Chapter 50 - Sit still, look pretty

"The chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

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Lilly's POV

"It's true that I don't know you," I mumbled softly, my eyes fixed on her name etched in stone, "But somehow, I feel like I do."

Retracting my hand, I tucked it into my coat pocket, seeking refuge from the chilly air, "I just can't shake off what Dad called me the other day," I whispered, my gaze drifting to the damp green grass below, "How I seemed to live up to my name," I added, feeling the sharp pang of pain in my heart, almost like it was never going to dispitate.

She had the same name as yours;

She was so selfish, so are you.

And I thought no one could cause more harm than she already did,

but here you are, living up to your real name;

Leya.

His words had left an indelible mark in my memories, embedded deep within my consciousness. Lifting my gaze once more, my eyes continued to trace over the name on the headstone, my thoughts consumed by a sense of melancholy I am newly learning to deal with.

"I wish you were alive," I said, my eyebrow raised slightly and my lips twitched, "I feel like we'd have so much to talk about."

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of light footsteps drawing near, accompanied by a subtle shadow falling over me. Lifting my head, I saw Emma approaching, her hands nestled in the pockets of her leather jacket, her gaze initially fixed on the headstone before shifting to meet mine. Silently, she lowered herself to the ground beside me, her eyes remaining focused ahead as she spoke.

"Figured I'd find you here," she said softly.

The lump in my throat swelled, and I attempted to swallow it down, the tension thick in the air and inside me. My gaze flitted across Emma's face, uncertainty weighing heavily on my mind and heart. I gazed at her for a moment too long, taking into her features more closely this time; Her hair fell down in small waves around her shoulders. Though I couldn't pinpoint her exact age, I knew she was a couple of years younger than my mother.

Yet, there was something so different about her, almost like none of the passing years got etched into her delicate yet sharp features.

Her eyes held a mesmerizing depth, a unique shade of green that seemed to hold a world of untold stories within them. Despite the undeniable weight of sorrow and fatigue, she exuded a quiet strength, a resilience that spoke volumes about her character.

It was no surprise she was a leader. I've never met anyone more deserving of the title.

She shifted her gaze from the headstone and turned to me. Sensing the weight of the moment, I attempted to steer the conversation away from the subject of Noah for now.

"Did you know her?" I asked.

She nodded her head, "We've met, a couple of times," She answered, "But I didn't know her that well," She added, "I guess Nikolas is the only one who actually knew her, better than anyone."

I nodded, understanding that he was the closest to her based on everything I am aware of now.

"Do you think she was bad?" I asked.

Furrowing her eyebrows in contemplation, she appeared puzzled by my question. Her eyes drifted ahead as she considered her response, "I don't think she was a bad person," she replied thoughtfully, "She was just someone who happened to make many bad decisions."