Red

15

Van lets go of my face and puts his hand on my shoulder. He lets me cry and sits there patiently as I let out a few sobs. It felt like we were sitting there for hours waiting for me to stop crying so hard.

"Shh," Van says. "It's... it's going to be okay," he sighs.

I shake my head and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands. "No?" He says. "I know it's terrible losing someone you love, Tris-"

I shake my head again. "Y-you just don't know how it feels something you never had... Annabelle was... was special to me... she was all I had left, Van," I say, my voice cracking at the end as I choke back another sob.

"What do you mean?" He asks for clarification. His voice was so gentle, and it only made me feel more vulnerable.

"My whole family," I shudder, thinking about everyone in my family. "Is dead now," I finish.

Van moves closer to me and wraps his arms around me. His hand rubs up and down my back. "I'm sorry, Tris. I really am," he says and then releases from the hug. For some reason, I felt almost disappointed that the hug was so short. "I hate that I can't give you better advice since I haven't been in your situation, but you have to trust me when I tell you that it's going to get better. Some things take longer than others, but your grief isn't going to stay here forever," he points at my heart. "Annabelle wouldn't want you to be upset all the time, would she?"

I shake my head. He was right; she wouldn't. "I know that might not have helped ya at all. Why don't you tell me a bit about her? Only if you're feeling up to it. Sometimes talking can help," Van says. He sounded a little unsure of himself, as if he was scared of saying the wrong thing.

I nod my head. I felt uncomfortable talking to Van about my sister, but I feel like he's right. "Sometimes talking can help," I repeat in my head. I dig my fingernails into my palm, and as if it was instinctive, Van grabs my clammy hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Don't work yourself up, now, eh?" Says Van. I shyly look up at him and he gives me a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to say anything if you don't wanna."

I shake my head. "I do," I whisper.  I felt frustrated with myself. Why can't I just talk to him? He wasn't even being mean to me.

Van nods his head and waits for me to speak, but I don't. Another tear falls from my eye, and I wipe it away, hoping Van didn't notice. "What if I ask you questions about her? Would that be easier?" He suggests. I nod my head.

"Alrighty..." Van says. He taps his fingers on his knee while he thinks of something to ask me. "If you could describe Annabelle in one word, what would it be?"

"She..." I trail off, thinking of the best word to describe her. There were so many positive words I could use. "She was funny," I say, smiling to myself as I remembered all the times she would joke around with me. I tried my best to hide my smile.

Van smiles when he sees my smile. "I see ya smiling," he chuckles, lifting my head up so I was looking at him. "Tell me the funniest thing she's ever done."

I laugh and shake my head. "It's a secret," I tell him. The funniest thing she's ever done was probably make fun of Van and the lads when they were on the plane, but I couldn't tell him that.

"Oh no, really?" Van says, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I can respect that."

I nod my head and let out a big yawn. "Sleepy?" Van asks. I nod my head. "Ok, well are ya feeling at least a little bit better? Think you'll be able to sleep through the rest of the night?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Good. Come on, then. Let's head back to the plane," he says, standing up. His arm is extended out to help me get up. "Hold my hand while we walk back. I don't want you to trip on anything in the dark."

I nod my head and don't let go of his hand after I stand up. We walk back to the plane and he lets me walk up the steps first. I get into my bed and I hear Van getting in his own. I realize that I am still wearing his hoodie. "Goodnight, Tris," he whispers.

"Van?" I whisper back. I sit up on my knees and look over to his area. He shifts around and then sits up, looking at me.

I hand him his hoodie. "Here's your sweatshirt," I tell him.

He shakes his head. "You keep it, love. I brought more than one. I don't want you cold all night," he explains.

"Oh, um..." I feel myself grow warm at his use of the word 'love.' "Thank you," I manage to get out.

"You're welcome. Now, get some rest," he says. I nod my head and lay down after pulling Van's sweatshirt on over my head. It smelled like him, but I didn't mind. It wasn't a bad smell at all. I shut my eyes and fall asleep within just a few minutes.