A/N: Had this in my drafts for a while. Have it.
I let myself back into the house; knowing it would be as silent as a funeral - and equally as cold. I find myself in my room thanks to some autopilot, that seems to drag my clothes off and lead me under my warm covers.
As childish as it was, I still slept under the same bedsheets I often took over to Embers. Due to this they had washed out marker pen scars, and a strange scent that was a mixture of her warm room and paper from my own household. It was almost painful to lay there, frozen, under that cover of memories. Every small breath, every memory flooding back.
I become aware, as I lay there, of a cold chain around my neck. I squirm, and soon I'm on my back, staring at the glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling. A small cold pendant is cold and unfeeling on my chest. "The symbol of angels..." I mutter; thinking about it. I think back to my what - 11th birthday? - and smile slightly. Things were so easy then.
Everyone seemed so happy. Now...
I close my eyes, and sigh. I hug the covers closer to me, in some feeble of attempt to warm myself. But no matter how hard I try...warmth escapes me. I bitterly think about how really I may never be 'warm' ever again.
I think about her. I can't help it; her smile. The way she laughs, the way her eyes sparkle. How she's always protected me - how she's always been so strong. Her hair is fiery orange and red, almost unnatural. A hell of a force to be reckoned with, really.
I sit up; deciding to rummage for some comfortable pyjamas in the night time. It's dark as hell; yet I still somehow manage to get across the room to a sticker infested set of drawers, and throw on some old clothes. It's too late I realise they're actually the same things I wore to Embers house. I sigh, throwing myself back over the room and onto my unfeeling bed.
She's present in every single part of my life - even my hobbies. I lay there for however long, before getting so frustrated I click the light on and walk across the landing to a storage cupboard. Might as well finish that sketch.
_____
"Your mum and I have to go out of town this weekend." I turn around, leaning on the breakfast bar for support. The kitchens actually pretty spacious, having two levels. It's pastel blue; with a breakfast bar and dinner table further back. To the side there's sliding doors out to the back garden.
"What for?" I ask, confused. They had been going out on excursions a lot lately; but unlike before where they told me so much about their research; their science - they stayed distant about it. I was beginning to be concerned. "A funeral." The word hits me unnecessarily hard. So many questions flood my head, but looking at my fathers grim face I feel like pressing the matter is not wise.
"Well...." I don't know what to say. "I hope that their family is okay." It feels so fake and funny in my mouth, so plastic.So empty. Dad looks outside, pondering something for a moment. Somber. Whoever they've lost, they must've been close. I recall the albums upon albums from their excursions, with many of their closest friends involved. "Just please don't ask your mother about it."
"Wasn't planning on it." I sigh, and pour myself a cup of coffee, before going upstairs. My parents would be gone soon, and so, I would be completely alone again. Somehow, the thought of being alone scared me far more than it ever had before.
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I gulp down my morning drink, feeling like Im choking on icicles sliding down my throat. Cold clings to every part of my body, and as I turn around I see myself standing on the precipice of some unfamiliar mountain. My heart pounds loudly in my ears, deafening me, leaving only the familiar sound of the 'thump-thump' and blood trickling down rocks with me. Im tilting, falling sidewards, spiralling, down and down.
