☆ Prologue ☆
Over the course of these past few months I've learned that life likes to take you for a ride. It grabs hold of you, throws you on its back and runs. It pulls you through fields of calm, mountains of anxiety, streams of happiness, and waterfalls of confusion. I'm still only 18 and I've felt my fair share already. But whenever life wants to taunt me I just remember one thing: Luke. He's been mine from the very moment I met him and even now I refuse to let him go. My name is Larkin Blanche and this is my story.
☆ Chapter One: ☆
☆ The Bench and The Well ☆
I sat at the dining table, a bowl of cereal in front of me and a horrible feeling of mixed irritation and sadness nagging me. Gran-Gran walked into the kitchen, the Sunday newspaper under her arm. Glancing over at me, she grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard and started pouring herself a cup. An awkward silence hung between us, clogging the air with hushed thoughts and loss of the right thing to say. Gran-Gran stood at the counter, looking out the window. Her eyes reflected the open fields like a dusty mirror. Finally she turned to look at me, but her face was vacant. She took a sip of her coffee loudly, stalling. Slowly she walked over to me and sat in the open chair across from me, placing her mug on the table and twirling it in her hands. We sat like that for what felt like an eternity, both of us off in our own worlds that was connected by the one thing that mattered: my parents.
Gran-Gran eyed me and carefully spoke, "I know this must be the hardest thing for you, Larkin. I get it; they were my family, too."
I stared at my bowl, whose contents had been emptied into my stomach by now. My hands resting softly in my lap, I felt the first rays of morning sunshine beam at me through the window above the sink. But instead of it feeling refreshing it felt meloncholy and careless. How could it smile so widely down on the world when my parents were lost somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean? It felt like a twisted stab in the back.
Gran-Gran took another drink of coffee. Her eyes were torn and quiet, very different from their usual look of wildness and vivid happiness. Her mouth frowned deeply, making the wrinkles around it (a product of so many pretty smiles) turn into scars of distraught hopelessness. I'd never seen Gran-Gran look so broken before, so lost of faith and hope and all things good. It made me want to cry my eyes out until there weren't any tears left in me to cry. Cautiously Gran-Gran reached her hand out to me. She left it hanging there in the air, as if she wanted me to take it, before finally resting her fingers on the sugar spoon. She scooped some sugar from its bowl and into her coffee. When she'd added four spoonfuls and stirred it gently into the caffiene-spiked mixture she stood, patted me on the back, and left the room.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
I walked slowly down the front steps of Gran-Gran's house, not quite sure where I wanted to go. I hadn't been at Gran-Gran's home since I was 7 and I almost completely forgot where everything was. But it didn't make much difference to me; as long as I could get away from this godforsaken house I'd be just fine. I looked around me, stunned by how beautiful it was outside. Roll after roll of sweet hills ringed the land, The sun glowing bright against the grass and turning it to a shimmery light green. The soft wind made the grass swish side to side, dancing quietly to the rhythm of the breeze. I stepped cautiously through the kee-high grass, not wanting to disturb its waltz with the wind. Purple, yellow, and white flowers sprouted up randomly, dotting the hillside with sparks of color. I climbed the first hill sluggishly, not in too much of a hurry to get to the top. To my surpirse, when I got there I found a little bench and a well that looked like it hadn't been used in years. I searched around to see if anyone else was nearby, but there wasn't a person in sight. Sitting on the old concrete bench, I slumped down and crossed my arms over my chest, returning to my sulky attitude. Flowers settled themselves around my legs, as if they were trying to comfort me. I pulled my legs off the ground and pressed them against me as the first tear of the day found its path down my cheek.
