Promise the stars

"I Promise the stars"

S.O.T.D: SILHOUETTE BY ACTIVE CHILD AND ELLIE GOULDING (THIS SONG IS SO PASSIONATE AND IT WAS ALL I COULD LISTEN TO WHILE WRITING THIS CHAPTER) LISTEN TO THIS AS YOU READ, IT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL WHAT I FELT, WRITING IT

THIS CHAPTER DOES GET PRETTY DEEP SO, FASTEN YOUR SEATBELT LOL. 

Andrew

I used to be a blonde.

Till this day, Seth jokes that anger made me a brunette and I sometimes can't help but agree. 

As a child, I was the legitimate picture of happiness and joy. I had two amazing parents that loved me, and each other, unconditionally, good friends, and an overall good life.

My mom loved to help people; she couldn't walk past a homeless person without putting a bill in their cup. That was probably one of the things I loved the most about her; she was always giving without expecting anything in return. She didn't even have a steady income. She was always perfectly fine volunteering at a Daycare downtown for teens who couldn't afford it. Sometimes she would take me along with her to work and I would play with all the little babies, and soon I started to love kids as a result. My mom was always my biggest role model.

I was a really active child, as crazy as it may sound. I played lacrosse, basketball, hockey, soccer, and junior league baseball. Mom had always hammered it into my head that getting involved in something you loved was the key to success. She was always at every game because my dad was always too busy with his cases. She used to call herself my 'GOLD-en fan'.

The day she died, I had called her to come pick me up from a soccer practice. I was really pumped for our first big game that following week and I couldn't wait to get home and continue practicing. She picked up on the second ring, as she always did, and told me she was on her way. She had just left work and was walking to her car.

"What if we lose, mommy?" I whined. Despite my optimism, I was scared for the game next week.

"You won't, baby" She laughed lightly.

"You promise?"

"I promise the stars" She stated softly. That one sentence put me at ease and I smiled. Mom knew exactly how to calm me down. Whenever I was scared, or upset she would always promise that things would be fine. She 'promised the stars' and was always right.

Everything after that happened so quickly.

One minute she was telling me that she would call me once she was in the car and that she loved me...the next, I heard a shot.

"Mom?" I called confused. She didn't answer.

All I could hear were cars whizzing by and the crunch of gravel.

She had gotten into the crossfire of a gang fight...

The doctors said that there was nothing they could do for her because she had already lost so much blood. I held my mother's hand as she lay on that hospital bed, dying, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was just a stupid little kid.

After she died, my dad threw himself into his work. I saw him even less than I normally would have and I...I didn't blame him. I looked just like her. Same dark blonde hair, same hazel eyes. Our personalities were even matching. Would you want to look at the spitting image of your dead wife?

On my twelfth birthday, I sat on my bed crying over her picture as I did every birthday and holiday I went without her. Dad, as usual, was in his basement office but he still slapped a couple hundred dollar bills onto my desk with an uttered "Happy Birthday". But I didn't care about the money. I just wanted her back...but I knew that wouldn't happen.