The Search Of The Lost

Chapter 1

I wake up to the blaring sound of my alarm clock. Groaning, I attempt to shut down the source of my current misery just to have it fall down with a loud thud on the floor.

It's not like I could fall back asleep anyway.

" Gracelynnnnn" shouts my lovely mother from downstairs.

" Comingggg" I shout back.

Sighing, I sit up in my bed when my eyes fall back to the sprawled letters resting on the small white painted wooden desk at the corner of my room that I stayed up all night rereading. I take a deep breath and slip back under my bed sheets, the ceiling where I've painted all my favorite quotes seeming quiet convenient to waste sometime looking at .  My gaze lingers on one in particular that seems to voice out my exact feelings today: The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward. I wonder if I would receive a new letter tommorow. It's been too long since I've heard from him. Okay enough, if I let my mind wander now I'm never getting up from this bed.

I head to the kitchen, not before having a quick shower and changing into comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, where my mum was already there having her usual jam toast.

My mother, Lilian woods, was nothing if not a caring mother. With her blond long hair and bright blue eyes just like mine, she was often mistaken as my sister. I've been told uncountable times that I got my good looks from her, though it's hard for me to believe that I was as attractive as most people make me out to be. With my wavy hazelnut colored hair barely reaching the base of my neck and high cheekbones, I would say I was an average and everyone just has a bad habit of over-complementing.

'Good morning sweetheart' she says softly while handing me my scrambled eggs and a cup of steaming coffee- my version of bliss.

'Good morning mum' I reply back and sit in my usual spot.

'So, what are you planning to do for your birthday tommorow? Your big eighteen, huh' I think someone just heard the excitement in her tone from a mile away.

I'm planning to wait for a letter from him, but there was no way I'd voice out the thoughts she desperately tries to keep out of my head. 

Instead, I cast her a beaming fake smile from where I was eating on the kitchen island and give her the answer she wants to hear: 'I think I'm going to be out with some friends, still didn't settle my plans with Scarlet. Though we could always go for our traditional birthday breakfast outing'

She gives me a satisfied nod. Thank god she doesn't catch the speck of pain in my eyes that's settling in, making its presence known. 'Good to hear you're not planning on ditching quality time with you mother now that you're eighteen' she chuckles.

Even if she tried to hide the destructive doubts she has about me leaving her just like he did with a chuckle, I would always notice that kind of agony.

Pain is always recognized by the one who suffers from it most, isn't it? So I drop my fork and look at her, my expression turning earnest: "I wouldn't trade our time together for the world, you mean way more to me than you make yourself out to be."

If I'm not mistaken I think faint tears pool in her eyes, talk about a light Friday morning talk. She immediately engulfs me in a tight hug, not that I mind though, and murmurs the softest of 'thank you's after kissing the top of my head.

'I should get going now, if you need anything call me' and with that she leaves for work, her heels clicking against the spotless black marble floor of our kitchen.