That's Cole

Separation

About a month had past since my flight plummeted to its doom.  Most of the survivors had recovered and were back to their everyday survival routine.  I met up with Cierra almost everyday.  We would talk and walk from three in the morning to seven in the morning.  Brayden and I had become extremely close and we’re both about ready to leave the hospital now.  Leaving the hospital meant we could go live in our designated house in our graveyard or we could wander until we found a better place to be.  

I’ve visited my family a few times in the past month, but I try my best to stay away.  Being in that house sends shivers up my spine and makes me think about not how much I miss life, but how much that I’m glad I’m gone.  

Whenever I visit ‘home’ there’s a lot of yelling and screaming, shattering glass, and slamming doors.  I read in an article one time that ninety-five percent of couples that lose a child over the age of seven, don’t stay together.  The people I onced called my family, would never be the same again.

I woke up to a thick smell of fog that filled my lungs.  My skin was colder and paler than usual.  I got out of bed and began to dress myself.  I put on a black-and-grey striped crewneck-sweater and some black jeans.  I then spiked my hair up like usual.  I looked into the mirror that sat right of the doorway.  My crystal blue eyes looked blue no more.  They were a shade of deep emerald.  I slowly turned away from the mirror and left the room.  

It was somewhere around one in the morning and nobody was up yet, so I silently left the building and began walking.  I took a left and made my way over to the place that was once my home.  I opened up the door and went inside.  

Screams filled my ears.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” my mother shouted.

My father shouted back, “At least I don’t sleep around!”

My mothers eyebrows sunk.  She took a deep breath in and then exhaled.

“We’re done,” She said quietly; almost whispering, “I’ll be back tomorrow to get Estella’s and my things.”

Tears welled in her eyes.  My father stared at her blankly.  My mother then collected a few items and rounded up Estella, then she drove off.  

My mother was a good person.  She was a good mother.  She always treated me like I was the most important person in the world.  My father, however, was the opposite.  If anybody gets Estella through this divorce, it better be my mother.