Remember, I told you

Coming Home

A/N: So in this book, I'm going to be telling a lot of the story with flashbacks. I thought this would be a fun way to weave in the past rather than simply having characters remembering. Hope y'all enjoy. 

P.S. Wait is finally over-y'all will learn Ro's story in this chapter!

My family passed away in an accident almost two years ago. We were headed home after dad's old bandmates concert when the accident happened. The road had been slippery that day due to the previous night's frost, but nothing too dangerous.  It iced all the time in New York; we were used to it. Or at least that's what we thought. Less than a mile from home, a drunk driver in a massive truck skidded across the road and ran a red light, colliding passenger-side into our car.

The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital room alone, with wires running in and out of my body. I would later learn that my mom, dad, and sister, Evalyn died on impact. As cruel fate would have it, the drunk driver was fine.

And my family was gone. 

I walked away from the accident with a minor fracture in my wrist and was told to be thankful by doctors, that I was some sort of miracle. But all the while, with everything I loved ripped away from me, I felt anything but grateful.

Mom and dad were musicians, mom a singer and dad a guitar player. When they met in college, they promised to never perform together, saying never ever mix business with pleasure. It was funny, because that lasted for a week before they took the stage together touring and having the time of their lives. Soon after, I popped into the picture, and then a year later Evalyn. 

Dad used to crudely joke, that business became pleasure, and pleasure business- and every time, without fail, mom smacked dad upside the head. They truly had the most authentic love. 

Mom was a beautiful woman with deep brown hair, jade green eyes, and a fiery wit. Dad was handsome, with lighter brown hair and deep blue eyes. Evalyn was the spitting image of mom, but with dad's sun-kissed locks. And then there was me; I had dad's ocean eyes, but mom's darker hair and freckles sprinkled across my face. 

Mom used to say that what connected us wasn't just family, but art. She was a bit free-spirited in her philosphoy, but I guess in this case it was true. Funny enough, Evalyn wasn't musical in any way, shape, or form, barely able to strum a guitar without popping a string. But she was always a good sport, front row at my performances, singing along, off-key might I add, but always there. Evalyn's art was painting and she was beyond incredible...

Evalyn was my best friend and she meant the world to me. They all were my world.

I don't remember crying, or screaming, or crumbling when the doctor told me they were gone. I was in shock, expecting my family to be standing behind me, all of this being some cruel joke, a nightmare. 

But it wasn't. 

As I sat in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the doctor reciting his rehearsed apologies for my loss, I silently crumbled.