Annalise

Chapter 34: A Dinner To Remember

"My beautiful Annalise, you look absolutely stunning tonight," my father broadly smiled, complimenting me the first chance he got as I descended down the stairs.

I was hoping that everyone would be seated already as I made my way to the dinner table, but apparently my father decided that after a month without seeing his kids, he apparently no longer possessed the patience to wait a second longer. Like father like son, Asher was more similar to him than he'd like to admit. My mother always referred to my younger dad as an impulsive, big-hearted fool. A young man who could've wrote a list long paper of his mistakes and yet still not nearly cover all the wrongs he'd ever made. Mom and my dad never mentioned the reason for their divorce, but I always believed some of the choices my father made factored into it. My mother didn't always approve of his actions, their failed attempts at having hushed arguments couldn't conceal that.

"Thank you," I lightly smiled, my teeth hidden behind my lips for once which felt quite foreign to me.

My father had on a nice suit, it was navy blue, neat, and professional. His hair was fluffy and short, once black but now almost all grey, his face was clean and cut and presented well like the rest of him. As a man who made a living selling cars and owning his own flourishing business, he had to become accustom to appearing his best, down to every detail. But before his successful car selling business, he never wore ties, suits, dress shoes, nothing once so ever professional looking as he does now. He changed a lot appearance wise just as much as he did internally. You see, with age came wisdom for my dad, he matured more faster than he did than when he was a teen, or so at least that's what my mom said. Maybe if Asher is ever so lucky, the same will happen with him.

"Let's take our seat with the rest of the family, yeah?" My father gestured over to the dining table.

I silently agreed, following him over. The sooner we all ate, the sooner we could all leave and return peacefully to our lives without me ruining thanksgiving dinner. All I had to do was sit and eat, what could go wrong? I mean, sure, I could think about the betrayal of my brother and how he's been lying to me. I could think about how I haven't spoken to my friends since I was dragged away by Ricky, they're probably worrying about me but I simply don't have it in me to revisit that disaster resistant plan. That was a dumb thing to do, maybe Asher's been right all along. I'm a naive dumb girl who needed to be lied to because what kind of idiot who knows how awful gangs can be organizes a futile resistance?

A searing jab went across from my chest, leaving a dull ache in its wake. I rubbed the area subtly as I took my seat that my dad pulled out for me. The urge to say thank you was strong but overcome by my inability to say another word, feeling compelled to remain silent as I drowned in my thoughts.

Hayley. Poor Hayley. She's dead, dead on thanksgiving. I'm here wallowing in self-pity as her body probably lays in a morgue, all by herself. Does her family know she's gone already? Do they know how awful her life has been the past few days, few weeks? Will her suicide shock them into a state of endless grief? Will they just stare at her empty seat at their dining table screaming her missing absence? Would they blame themselves for her death? Even though I could've been the one to save her?

I could've saved her from psychological trauma. I could've saved her from permanent death if I just made it there quicker, before she was already on the ledge. I closed my eyes, cursed with the image of Hayley's hair blowing in the wind, her lips chapped, eyes glistening under the moonlight as tears streaked down her pale face. How can I just sit here? Eating food, knowing that she'll do anything like this again? She'll never see her family, she'll never take another breath, or say another word, never cry again, never laugh.

Never get to be happy again.

Why did a sweet girl like her have to die in pain? But a man like Wilson gets to live, free, and doing as he please?