a/n: trigger warning. maybe
"when i was little, my mother never really liked me. because i wasn't like her. one day, she was trapped in a burning house with no escape. all the firemen worked together and got her out. ever since then, she's been in a mental hospital. she always said the fire made her crazy. and the only way i remember her, is this bruise, burn, scar covered bitch that hated me. but, when i was.. well, taken from my home, she didn't like that. her sickness was only getting worse. until eventually, she smashed her head on the glass over and over, and she.. fell through." i choke out.
"alina, im so sorry.. this is all my fault." ethan cried.
"it's not your fault ethan. she wasn't doing too well anyway." i fake smile. i look over at grayson. his gaze fell onto my hands, which were behind my back. i tend to hide my hands in situations like this.
that awkward silence took place yet again. "thanks.. guys" ethan frowns. "for what?" grayson finally spoke. "for coming. i appreciate it" he tried to smile. he looked in pain. his neck had no mobility what so ever. i felt absolute hatred radiating off of grayson in this moment. he never looked away from me. i didn't want to be here. but i had to be. for ethan. for his family.
-
i was eventually in one of the old, dusty-blue chairs beside grayson. it was uncomfortably humid in the room. ethan and grayson were having there fifth brotherly chat, while i was fiddling with my fingers in the corner of the room. "stella?" grayson called. my eyes shot up, glancing at him. he was close to out the door. "visiting hours are over." he scoffed.
"oh, ha. so-sorry" i stuttered. he rolled his eyes and left. im getting bad vibes from him. big time.
