Fractured

Chapter 12

I slam my car door and take off.

No one tries to stop me from leaving, like people do in the movies, No one came running outside asking where I was going, And no one came and asked if I was okay, when in fact I wasn't.

I know that driving mad is something people frown upon.

But I honestly don't care.

I'm speeding I know I am. I'm speeding to go nowhere. The problem is that I don't have anyone to go to. I'm on a highway with no distinction in mind.

Sure I could text Jordan, but I don't exactly want to load all my problems on her right now. I should talk to someone.

I quickly turn right cutting off a suburban that was in my way. I know where I'm going.

I pull into a gravel parking lot and park next to a black rustic gate and an old sign that reads 'Redwood Cemetery' the writing is fading from the weather so the E, T, and R are missing. So the sign just reads 'Rdwood Cemeey.'

After a deep breathe I open my door and walk to the gate it creaks when I open it and I carefully slide in.

I remember perfectly where my Fathers grave is. That's not something you just forget. Well at least I won't forget.

I'm thankful for the lights there faded to a full orange glow after the many years of not being cleaned but it makes maneuvering there the headstones easier been that it's getting darker out.

I can't help the feeling that someone's watching me, I quickly brush it off before my thoughts wonder to much and I creep myself out.

I need to do this.

It's almost seven I probably should just wait and come back tomorrow but I glance around no one is here now and there will be people here tomorrow, I don't need a crowd.

I finally reach the isle with the letter W.

So many names are almost covered up completely by weeds that you can hardly read the names.

Wg,Wh,Wi.

Willow.

When my father passed away my mother never changed her last name back to her maiden name.

Well at least that's something we still all have.

I kneel down beside my fathers stone.

'John Willow, 1970-2012.'

His stone is almost completely covered by grass and dirt, and the flowers my mother and I bought him years ago are gone. Along with the glass vase.

"I'm sorry Dad." I say and start picking the grass and weeds from around his stone. "I should have came sooner."

I know he can't here me but I need someone to listen even if he won't be answering.

I finish picking the weeds and plop down my back facing the rest of the cemetery. The grass is muddy and its seeping threw the thin material of my white skirt, but I hardly mind. I've decided skirts aren't my thing anyways.

I take another deep breathe.

"Hi Daddy I just wanted to come and talk to you."

I'm realize waiting for a reply that isn't going to happen so I continue.

"Sam and Aunt are at our house, Samantha and I aren't as close as we used to be Dad. Remember when she used to come over all the time and we would sit in that Treehouse you made us for Christmas and talk for hours. Then just before it got dark you would climb up the latter and scare us?" A brief smile claims my face and is gone just as quick as it came.