Left In The Wake (book 4)

Chapter one- Restart and rewind

The fire blazed in the eyes of the eight standing in a row. The lights of the fire truck blinked behind them and the sounds of rumbling engines filled their ears. They remained unmoved as the firefighters sprayed the blaze. A mix of emotions arose. Once the fire was finally out, they stepped towards the rubble in unison. The crunch of the remains of the old house crinkled under their feet. The shambles of the burned building surrounded them. The place that started it all.

It was an early spring morning. Dew on the grass, sun rising into the sky. Mrs. Smith, mother of Reyna, sat at the kitchen table reading the stories in the paper over her daughter’s death. It was almost too much for her to bear. The two weren’t very close. Reyn’s brother was her only loving role model her entire life, and he had gone missing in the war a few years back. That was part of the reason the Smiths moved to Iowa. They lost both their daughter and their son in the course of five years. Mrs. Smith shed a tear knowing that she may have had the chance to save her daughter and her love, but never took it. It was partly her fault she was dead.

Mr. Smith emerged from the hallway, a dark shadowy form gleaming with evil. The blood of a killer ran through his veins. He seemed to be the least bit unphased about murdering his daughter’s beloved and therefore taking her life as well. He walked over to the empty coffee pot. Anger boiled up inside of him, but he didn’t speak to his wife. The awkward silence clouded the air as he slowly lurked past her on his way to the fridge. He opened it, and found nothing that suited him. He had been away on business lately, he had been gone the entire time. Leaving his family to fend for themselves. No wonder their lives were such a disaster. Mr. Smith was a strange man, he valued no one’s life accept his own and would do anything to stay alive and keep his reputation. Even kill the love of his only daughter’s life. Since no one could prove his guiltiness, he got away clean.

He slammed the fridge shut in anger. “I’ve been gone for how long and you didn’t even have the courtesy to restock the fridge for me!”

“You came back early and when you arrived, the only person eating from here was me, and occasionally Reyna, but now she can’t even eat from here anymore, so why bother!” his wife retorted.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, I come home after working hard for you and this is how you repay me?” he yelled.

“Me and your only daughter are stuck here alone and this is how you repay us! By killing her and her boyfriend?” she asked with sass.

“I didn’t kill my daughter.” he said. “She brought this upon herself by dating that buffoon.”

“She loved him John.” she said and abruptly sat back down at the kitchen table.

She stuck her nose back in her reading and stayed quiet. The newspapers made their own inferences about what happened the night of Harry Styles’ death, but only she, her husband, and Harry truly knew what happened.

A few miles down, eight teens were gathered at the old cemetery surrounding the graves of their old friends. They stood together in a row still in disbelief that they were gone. A slow, gentle rain began to fall upon them and left drops on their saddened faces.

The four remaining boys from One Direction made up four of the eight. The others were Reyna’s two best friends who had been there the night the two met, and Danielle and Eleanor, fiancees of Liam and Louis. The two boys proposed to the girls after Harry and Reyn’s death.

They stood in almost silence, listening to the sounds of nature. Danielle leaned her head onto Liam’s shoulder and cried. All eight of them had become friends because of Harry and Reyna’s relationship and had grown quite fond of each other.