Blameless ✔

Chapter 27: ❝But I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me❞

Chapter 27: ❝But I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me❞ 

♡Mark's POV♡

The grass swayed in tune with the dancing branches that were adamant to release their hold on the menacing trees towered above us as we walked through their property hand in hand. Her brown hair showed its desperation to fly away with the wind as it tugged at her scalp and incessantly switched directions while the wind thankfully carried away all my fears and anxiety. 

Number one: Your family.

That was first on the list.

"Mark, why are we here?" I heard Evelyn ask belatedly when we had passed our thirteenth tombstone.

I didn't reply to her and instead squeezed her hand for reassurance to let her know that everything would be okay. 

I was tired of keeping secrets from her because inevitably, the truth would come out and I wanted to be the one to tell it before another circumstance swooped in to steal my opportunity. I had watched enough movies to know what happened to the protagonist when s/he hesitated to tell the truth and I didn't want to experience what that felt like first hand thus why I had dragged Evelyn to this depressing part of town without much of a choice. She wanted to know the truth and I was more than willing to provide it.

All of it.

Eventually, we came to a coordinated stop in front of a tombstone surrounded by the rest that took away its individuality, making it look inconsequential and dreary but still held a very special place in my heart.

"This is my father's grave."

Foreseeably, Evelyn's eyes widened into saucers as she whipped her head to stare at me incredulously while supporting a gaping mouth.

"Y-Your father?"

I nodded. "I never really told you about my family, did I?" I chuckled, releasing her hand to join my own as I crouched down to be eye level with the grave that spelt my dad's name out in medium, black, worn out, letters that were deep enough for one's index finger to trace - not that I particularly favoured the idea of anyone doing so.

Franklin Jones was what it read.

"W-When did he... uh-"

"Three years ago I believe," I told her curtly, feeling an odd mixture of bitter amusement fueling inside of me due to her detached adaption. But then again, I couldn't blame her because, in all fairness, I had brought her to a graveyard without giving her a heads up about it but it wouldn't be the first crazy thing I had made her experience now that I thought back to all the enjoyable memories we had shared.

"Ah," she responded, slowly and hesitantly moving to crouch down next to me on the green grass unabashedly flirting with the sun in order to keep its rays of pleasurable sentiment focused on them. It made parts of it glow prettily while the others had to suffer the intimidating darkness of the tombstones' shadows' and ours that were conjoined.

"Do you mind me asking how it happened?" She asked meekly, beginning to feel more comfortable but still choosing her words carefully.

I stared at the tombstone, refusing to look away as if in some kind of trance before uttering, "suicide", which I struggled to say everytime I was asked about it but it was like a plaster - you just had to rip it off without any time to assess the aftermath.

Evelyn wasn't saying anything so I assumed she was just suffering from temperamental shock as she shared my despair like I had already predicted she would. She was a good person albeit quite senseless as well for loving so deeply to the point where it enabled her to bothersomely share another person's grief.