𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 [𝟏𝟖+] ✓

39

5k words chapter and its one of my fav lol

450 comments and update tomorrow?

━━━━━━━━━♚━━━━━━━━━

Katrina Diaz

Since Hayden's words had the potency to destroy every figment of my trust in him, I had taken upon Erika's offer to go shopping. It was when we were shopping. Erika told me that today was my grandmother's birthday. The one who had offered Matilda a huge sum of money to look after me and had left half of her inheritance in my name. Grateful for a woman I had never seen but always had like a shadow sheltering me, I tagged along with Erika to visit Tasha's grave in Birmingham.

It felt strange. Where my sister was all tears, I could only read the words written on her gravestone and silently mourn that I hadn't been fortunate enough to meet her.

"It is Ryan. I'll have to answer this." Erika excused herself, draining her tears with a hanky before walking away, leaving me behind at the grave. At my grandmother's grave.

'Today she laughs with angels after spending a lifetime loving and protecting her family.'

Tracing the words on her headstone, pushing the snow piled up on it, I sat down on the ground, powerless to stop the emotions brewing inside me.

"I don't know if I can call you, grandma. And I feel like a lunatic talking to a stranger's stone. But you're neither a stranger, nor am I a lunatic. Thank you for fighting for me, protecting me when my mum didn't. I would give anything to look at you and talk to you once. But I know I have no power to make it happen, so I can only wish you rest in peace," whispering. I looked up hopelessly.

A blast of cold wind blew my way, making my teeth chatter from the cold. Not a bird chirped as they probably lay huddled together in their nests. I smiled ruefully, wondering what it would take to have the luxury of someone who could keep me warm so my legs wouldn't be so stiff and my hands benumbed. It would have been Hayden if I hadn't run off to Frostburgh seeking a home I never had.

Why does it matter if it's Juniper or someone else?

Hayden's words from earlier bled into a memory as I pulled on the gloves off of my hand, staring at the ring he had slid onto my finger, studying the make of the ring, marvelling at how close it was to Hayden's modus operandi. Chaos theory.

The more and more I stared at that ring the more memories of Hayden and I flooded my head, reminding me of all the times Hayden caught me when I had collapsed, healed me when I had bled, hadn't given up on me when I had given upon myself.

Objects are replaceable, Spitfire. You're not, he had once said.

I couldn't help but smile at the reminder of those memories, at the reciprocality of that feeling.