Her father stepped unwillingly out of the front door carrying his training kit, lovingly glancing back at his beautiful child. She was young and had not yet uncovered the world's true colours. Nevertheless, he knew she could cope until he returned, so he reluctantly waved goodbye. Once he'd left she quickly attended to her mother, dabbing at her sweaty forehead with a moist compress and slowly pouring drops of water through the parting in her lips. One day her mother would rest peacefully amongst the clouds, and the only person left to gather up the pieces was...
Grace Van Pelt.
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They Weren't Rosy Cheeks...-The Mentalist
FanfictionThey weren't rosy cheeks because of good health, but scarlet because of the pain that had been cast upon them. The stress relief of their parents, the way to shake away all anguish that hunted them... And yet, what did they do wrong?
