Bulletproof Love

Chapter Two: Tragedy

     His hair was receding but his memory failed him not. Mr.Faudet could still remember the tiniest events and he could vividly remember how his wife was always soggy from all the chemotherapy. He perfectly remembers how worn out she looked. Pretty face, sad eyes, chapped lips, tired features. But all of that didn't matter because in his eyes she was the loveliest of all.

He loved her unconditionally and everytime he saw her in pain, his heart broke into myriads and thousands of pieces that he had to pick up and glue back together. She was graceful and sweet, spreading love and glimpses of hope wherever she went; like scattered confetti covering the ground whole. She was so artistic; painting smiles on everyone's face except her own. She was slowly dying on the inside, literally...

She didn't deserve to die. She had this celestial soul with nebulas bursting within every cancerous cell in her body. She and Mr.Faudet loved each other with no
boundaries.

Losing her changed him forever.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back to his house... When he got there, he went into his back garden and smiled as he looked down at his flowerbeds.

There is one dear event which he has never forgotten. It's the day he first met Brooklyn. He found her in his garden. White cotton dress pulled up around her thighs, feet blackened by the lush soil that she had been rolling in. She tip-toed her way into his heart with paces so steadily and stealthily progressive that they had been unnoticed. She was just an innocent 11 year old kid with cute little brown pigtails who was plucking the flowers of his garden and planting seeds on love in his heart which she watered gradually so that she was rooted deep in his chest. She looked at him with plucked flower petals in her hands and had an apologetic smile on her face that said Whoopsies, my bad.

Her parents had recently moved to the neighborhod. Her mum always showed magnanimity. She'd bake a cake and send it with Brooklyn every time she went to his house as a small gesture of kindness.

However, it was only three years before Brooklyn lost both of her parents in a horrific car crash. A drunk driver crashed into them and cost them their lives. He was so groggy that he lost control as his brain garbled directions and his vision became blurry. He left the precious daughter an orphan at the age
of 14... It was a moment of intense terror that traumatized her and made her pause upon the giddy pinnacle that was gone now then tremble and totter and fall down.
For some goodbyes are tyrannical...

     She spent most of her nights awake in bed and sometimes she drifted off into a brief, fitful sleep. There were relentless untamed beasts raging in her head. Everyone has monsters that aren't under their bed, but through their mind and in each and every part of it they spread. The unceasing banging didn't stop no matter how much she pled. It only became more cacophonous instead. These horrisonant voices were why her ears bled and to a bloody battle they led. For it's all part of the waging war and everyone is dealing with it in their own ways.
Notably, people aren't mechanical toys, they belong to homo sapiens, blessed with tons of emotions. These emotions get magnified when pain chokes the heart and dolor clogs the mind causing it to distort.

She would just sit and write to get her mind off this tragedy. The irony is that her ink was link panacea for myriads of the bleeding heart of hers that was hemorrhaging sadness, and the words she poured out mended her lacerated shards. It takes a lot of endeavor and courage to hold onto one's self even after all the heart wrenching miseries.

After her parents' death, her grandma took care of her. Not only that, but she fell in love with Mr.Faudet. Imagine, Mr.Faudet becoming Brooklyn's grandfather. Well, no. That didn't happen because her grandma passed away a year later.
All the pain she went through was part of the magic that baffled her into who she is now and shaped her persona. For people are all legends in the making... The bruises she conceals, the damage she mortifies, and the struggles she's been through, are all the same wounds that are crevices to her beautiful soul.
There is a part in her yet to be discovered and within there are galaxies that spin ever so. Despite that they tried to destroy her and threw asteroids at her existence. Yet she's here, firm, stiff, stalwart, and she's building citadels out of dooms. For she isn't made of ordinary things. She isn't made of facile paved roads.
Brooklyn was just a teenager living on her own. Well not really "on her own". Mr.Faudet took good care of her. You can say she was alone, but she wasn't lonely. She had Mr.Faudet ... and Dustfinger. She never really had many friends. Maybe one or two. She just didn't "fit in".
Anyways, Mr.Faudet soon snapped back to reality and went inside his house to sip his cold cup of green tea. He liked to drink it cold...