Still Stratford Sweethearts (A Justin Bieber Love Story)

Chapter 13: They Didn't Think About Me

Author's Note: I know I haven't updated, but I have a good reason. I got kicked out the house for the summer so I've had no wifi there. But hey! 4K reads!!!!

PLEASE READ THE END NOTES, ITS IMPORTANT

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✨Starr's POV✨

Justin and I have been here for about 3 hours. My dad gave me the task of unpacking the kitchen, and Justin insisted on staying and helping.

"Are you happy?" Justin said suddenly.

"What?" I asked. It was weird of him to just randomly bring this up.

"I mean, you must have had a life in Missouri. Friends, school, it must have been hard to just up and leave." He stated.

"Well, I only had like 3 friends, was bullied a lot, and lived with a witch. Sure it was hard leaving my friends, but there isn't much to miss there." Justin looked at me sympathetically. But to be honest, I didn't want his sympathy, I didn't want anybody's. I made it out just fine.

"Starr!" someone called from another room. I walked into the extravagant dining room to see my dad standing next to a box, with what looked to be a picture in his hands. His eyes had a certain shine to them, like he was going to cry.

What is wrong with him?

"What's wrong, dad?" I asked concerned. "Come see this" he beckoned me with his hand.

I walked toward him and saw that it was, indeed, a picture in his hand. But what the picture captured made my heart stop.

I took the picture from his hands. On it was a little French Vanilla-skinned girl with light brown curls flowing over her shoulders, and a tooth missing from her wide smile. She was tightly gripped onto a woman with a beautiful chocolate complexion. The woman looked to be in her mid 40's but was youthful. The two looked completely identical and the strong bond was easily seen.

I knew this picture, and the recognition of it made tears spring from my eyes. I then understood why my dad was close to tears.

This picture was of my nonna and I.

My nonna was my dad's mum. She never liked to be called nana, and refused to be called grandma. I remember her saying how it always made her feel old. She was the one to name me, and was hands down my favorite relative. I spent every moment I could by her side.

Until she was killed in front of me when I was seven.

I still remember that day. We had spent that morning making strawberry pancakes and maple bacon, our favorite. We did the sudoku puzzle in the Sunday paper, just like every Sunday. She was staying with us, helping take care of me like a mother, since mine never did.

She, as always, announced that she was heading to church. She always went earlier to help set up and pray. As she walked out the door, with me in stride to see her go, she began to sing the song she would sing every Sunday. It was a type of lullaby that I can't remember for the life of me.

"Bye Nonna!" I would yell every time. She waved back like always, and looked both ways to cross the street like she had taught me.

I never understood how it happened. The roads in Stratford were so clear, speeding was frowned upon. All I remember was hearing a faint screech and all hell.

Someone had hit her. They hit her and kept driving. The ambulance was called but there was nothing they could do, she was announced DOA, dead on arrival. And I had to watch it all while being held back by my dad, an officer, and our neighbor.

They caught the guy who did it within an hour. And although he was under the influence of alcohol, his father was a lawyer with connections and money. So they let him slide with a slap on the wrist.

They didn't think about the lives of the family they ruined, or the 7 year old girl who was traumatized by seeing her beloved grandmother die.

They didn't think about me.

To say the least, I shut down. My dad did too, but not as bad as me. Even Justin had a hard time getting a word out of me.

Seeing this picture brought so many memories from the back of my mind. I wiped my face from the tears and looked up to see all eyes on me. Instead of acknowledging them, turned to my dad and handed him the picture.

"Can you frame this for me?" I asked quietly.

"Sure pal."

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Author's note: So before I go into the whole thing that concerns you guys, I want to say that the whole situation with Starr's Nonna did happen to me. It's 100% true. My Nonna was practically my best friend and I did watch her die in the middle of the street. The guy who did it, didn't even go to jail and it angers me so much. My Nonna was so special to me, I felt she deserved to be apart of my story and I pray she'd be proud of me. She was the one to call me Starr, so I go by it in honor of her. If you were curious, my name is Brianna. This chapter was extremely painful to write.

Anyway, you guy should comment more. Questions, feelings, I want it all.

IMPORTANT PART:

I see how much you guys enjoy this story and I am grateful for that. I didn't think that anyone would even read this, but my first 12 chapters, and I already have 4,000 reads. I want to give back to y'all.

I have been thinking about this for a while, and I want to do a contest. It's not going to start now, but you will know when. I will post an update entailing what you need to do and it will not be a chapter. The winner(s) will win a character in the story. It'll probably be around 6 or 7 thousand reads.

Does that sound interesting to y'all? Would you want to do it?

NEWS: The inspiration for the character Sierra/Skittles has a Wattpad and a book.
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Live. Love. Life. Bieber.

~Starr