The Girl Who Never Smiles | ✔️

Chapter 66

Hello all my readers,

OK so this chapter has a time jump. Last chapter was in February, now we are in May. This will be in Issac's POV because this-. You will find out. The next chapter will be the last chapter of The Girl Who Never Smiles..kind of. I hope you enjoy the Issac POV.  REMEMBER TO COMMENT WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE EPILOGUE!!!!! I am so grateful to all of your support and getting me to where I am at right now. You guys are by far the best readers ever and you have all really changed my life. Thank you.

I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Issac's POV

A kid in my preschool lost him mom when he was 5 years old. I remember his mom. She used to make ham and cheese sandwiches for him and I when I came by their house. When I asked him what death was he told me it's when a bad monster comes to take his mommy's soul forever and leaving her body behind. The name of the monster is-

"Rest in peace Sarah Clementine Evans. Your memory will live on." The pastor says and the casket is lowered into the ground slowly. My heart feels like it is trying to rip out of my chest and join my mom in the ground because my heart will always be with her. 

I bend down and pick up a handful of dirt and throw it on top of the casket, watching the dirt slip through the gaps between my fingers. I look back up at the crowd, looking for my dad. He said he would be here. 

I-I don't understand.

I walk away from the casket, feeling the lump form in my throat. I look through every aisle for my father. He is someone you couldn't miss. He is 35 and looks way younger. His almost jet black hair and piercing grey eyes sets him apart from the crowd. People make a path for Isaiah Evans. One day, I want to be like him, but I am only 8 years old.

But why isn't he here?

Mommy died.

I walk over to my nanny Emiliah and I tug on her beige trench coat. She looks down at me, her usual bright blue eyes, red and filled with tears.

"Where's dad?"

Emiliah sniffles and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her coat.

"He should be here somewhere." she says, her nose flared.

She is lying.

"I want to go home. Take me home." I tell her and walk away and to the black town car we came in.

How could he not be here for mommy's funeral!

A painful ache in my chest slows down my trek to the car and tears roll down my face as I find it difficult to get to the town car.

Why is the air thinning out? I feel like I can't catch my breath.

I just want my mom.

I want her to bake her oatmeal raisin cookies and read The Little Prince to me before bed every night. I miss her sweet cinnamon scent, I miss watching her dance around the house listening to the Beetles in her sundresses with dad. I miss hearing her laughter when I would make a silly joke or when dad would make a stupid mistake. 

How could I miss someone so much? She has only been dead for 2 weeks.

2 weeks of sadness.

2 weeks of silence.

2 weeks of watching my father break, crack, and dent. I watched as his jolly smile slipped off his face slowly, leaving behind a look he would usually use at work: his big business man look.