This Place We Call Home (discontinued)

Chapter 6

 I cried. I cried until my eyes were puffy, and until my voice was hoarse. I cried until the morning sun rose over the ocean water, and until Siera was fast asleep next to me.

Finally, the tears stopped flowing like rivers. In my mind, I had made a decision for myself. Something that I had to stop.

I had to move on.

I had to move on over Miguel. It was eating away at my insides, breaking me apart. Soon, I would be nothing. Nothing but an empty soul.

I had to move on.

Soon Sierra started to stir. "Siera." I whispered. "Siera." One eyelid opened slightly, her lips curled into her mouth. "Miguel." She said. "Miguel is mine." With a twist of her body, her face was facing the grass.

What is that suppose to mean? I thought, poking her in the ribs once again. "What do you mean, Miguel is yours?" I questioned. A sharp, growling noise came from Siera's mouth. "You...you took him from me." She mumbled slowly. She was still dreaming. But that gut-feeling came back to me. There was this ping in my stomach, but it couldn't be true......

Siera rolled up, her lips open, but her eyes still closed. "You....you killed...” She fell back asleep, another round of snores escaping her mouth. "Miguel." She jerked half-awake again. Pulling at my shirt, the reality hit me like a slap in the face. You took him from me. It all made sense. Miguel was Sierras’ ex-girlfriend.

I had to run. Siera most likely hated me. I mean, she obviously still had feelings for him.

Most people would have thought that she was dreaming. That it was as just some mumbles of stuff she was dreaming about. But no. I knew in my heart it was true. She was still asleep, but the words from her mouth were true. She stilled love Miguel. And now he was dead.

Instead of running towards town, I ran the other way. All I wanted was to get as far away from town as possible. Plus, the mayor scared me. Something wasn’t right about the way he acted. He wanted Miguel to die. What did Miguel ever do? Miguel seemed like an easy-going nice guy. Or was he? Miguel did not seem like the type of person that would keep secrets. But he was dead. I would never know those secrets. Believe me, I HATE secrets.

Secrets are the unknown. And I cannot stand not knowing something. This town had so many secrets. And mysteries. And I hated mysteries even more.

I turn my attention back to the forest. Brown, almost black, mud squished out from under my old, worn sneakers. Tall evergreen trees seemed to reach the skies like skyscrapers, their moss green pines sticking out of all directions. Speaking of moss, it was everywhere. On the trees, coving the rocks, and spreading on old stumps like an old worn coat. I needed to sit down. I needed to think.

An old stump, slightly crooked, caught my eye. I cautiously sit down, resting my face in my hands. Then they came again. Those dreaded tears.

I had never felt so much pain inside me. Never had I felt so troubled, scared, and most of all, alone. I needed a person to hug, a person to cry on, and a person that would listen, connect, and help me. Miguel was probably the only person here that would be able to do that.

But that luck was gone. For a night, I thought Siera was the girl to- not fully- patch my heart a bit. But I was so wrong. She was not the weaver. All she did was pull out the sting a little bit more. Like a mistake in a sewing project, having to take the needle back through all the holes. Miguel had patched it when he helped me. He tore it when he left.

"No." I said out loud. I was blaming Miguel. It was not his fault. How was he to know that he would fall off the cliff? Maybe I should have asked if he could swim. Or how deep the water was? All the things I could have asked that would have stopped it from happening.