A/N: so I wrote out this little part because I thought a character needed to be delved into a bit more but you'll have to find out what character that is :)
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It was deafeningly quiet. Nothing could be heard except for the hum of the bugs crawling around and the quiet breathing of a single being. He watched as the grass swayed back and forth in front of the stone he now sat facing. It was a desolate, lonely place filled with tears and sorrow of others. The stone he stared at read:
YESLIN THORNE
BELOVED DAUGHTER
XXX-XXX
It was the grave of a little girl, only 9 years old, who died many years ago. He knew her very well, though. So well, he may have known her better than himself, but that's what makes everything so difficult. Because he knew she wouldn't blame anyone for what happened, not like him. He blamed the person who let it happen to her. He felt such rage towards that person it could swallow him whole. The person who let it happen should suffer as she did, screaming for help. But that was just his thoughts.
He sat there, like he so often found himself doing in times of stress, thinking of what it would be like should she still be here. But he knew better, she wouldn't still be here... she would still be long gone had she lived past that day. That one day so very, very long ago. It almost felt like centuries since then. He let out another long, agonized sigh, and then, he spoke.
"Yeslin," he began, letting out a small huff of laughter, "it's been a while since I've come to see you, I apologize." He looked down to his hands, his fingers intertwined to keep them from shaking. "I still think of you every day. Think of how we used to play together and run around like the kids we were." He laughed again and didn't notice when his voice began to shake and tears swelled in his eyes, too lost in his own words. "I still think of what more I could have done to prevent everything. Still think how I could have just trusted my gut and checked that damn latch, but I didn't and you payed the price." He was choking up too much now to talk properly. His face had tears streaming down is smooth, rosy cheeks. His deep blue eyes filled with the most heartbreaking sorrow ever beheld in a person. Continuing through his emotional state he whispered, "It was supposed to be me."
In a sudden burst of anger and angst he yelled, hands thrown to the ground, head thrown back, "DAMN YOU! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!" Heaving, he closed his eyes, tears still streaming, drip dripping to the soft grass below, and slouched back against the cold headstone.
"Your parents, they took it pretty bad, but they got better. I guess that's what I get for failing, never moving on, never forgetting, never having peace after all this time." He let his long, dark hair fall to his face, obstructing his view to two other graves nearby. "Your parents... they hated me for a while. God, they loathed me, couldn't stand the thought of me, but that also got better. Not with time, but with a little help. But I don't blame them either for how they reacted, it should be expected." This time he pressed his forehead against the side of the tall fixture, listening as the breeze picked up and thunder rolled above head.
"You were too young. Too young to be taken from this world." He let out a choked sob. "Too young to be taken from me."
He slowly opened his eyes, staring at nothing and said, "Maybe someday I'll have the courage to come to you, to finally see you again, but that day is not today. But... soon." And with that, he picked himself up off the ground starting to become wet with rain pouring from the sky like the tears he had just shed, and made his way home, to his misfit family.
YOU ARE READING
A Rose With Teeth and Claws
Dla nastolatkówHe looked away but scooted over to offer her a seat beside him. He seemed lonely and not wanting to appear rude, she accepted. She took in a deep breath and as she did, got a small smell of him. He smells... strange; familiar, somehow. Have I seen...