tragically beautiful | grayson dolan

 prologue

grayson

My mother always said that both the best and worst things in life happen very unexpectedly. They're the moments that can change you forever, and even if you can see them coming from a mile away, you're never really prepared for the impact that they will leave.

Her sweet voice used to say that it's how you handle the aftermath that shows your true character. It's how you deal with a crisis that defines your strength.

I'm positive that I failed miserably at that.

I exhale a breath and peer down at her old denim jacket, every inch of it is filled with colorful patches. She wore it everywhere she went, no matter the season or weather.

Her cheeks glowed whenever people would compliment her for having it on. She made sure to add it to every outfit she put together.

I slowly bring the material up to my nose and inhale, trying to catch a small whiff of her scent. I haven't washed it in three years. I'm terrified that her smell will fade away if I ever do.

I'm pretty good at putting on a strong poker face, especially in front of my twin brother. Her sudden death still pains me. It was something we never saw coming. One day she was happy living her daily life in a town she adored, the next day she was gone.

Traumatic moments like that happen so quickly, sometimes we don't realize the true effect they have. However, I try not to act on my vulnerable emotions. Most of the time I'm fine, but then the guilt comes rushing in.

Every time I think about that horrible day, I get all panicked and freak out. I will forever be traumatized.

"Grayson!" My father shouts, his loud voice is booming over the blasting music consuming my thoughts.

I pull one of the headphones away from my ear, looking up at him standing in front of my bed.

"I know it's your birthday and I'm supposed to let you and Ethan call the shots, but are you sure you don't want to do anything? I have a dinner date tonight, but you guys can join us. It could be fun."

My eyes automatically roll. I would never want to spend my eighteenth birthday with my dad and his newest victim. There's a rotation of women every two weeks.

"I'm good. Ethan and I can order takeout. Don't worry about us."

I see some relief flash in his eyes, but he hides it quickly. Dad doesn't really want his two sons to go to dinner with him and the new chick he's trying to score, but how would that look if he didn't at least invite us on our birthday?

"Come on, you guys are the most boring eighteen year olds that I know. You should go out. Call Mason and Jack. Go grab a drink or something." He looks down at me.

I scoff. I haven't been friends with those guys since freshman year when they buffed up and joined the lacrosse team.

They decided nothing else mattered but senior girls and wild parties. Thank god Ethan and I drifted away from them, they're both lowlives now.

"I'm not even old enough to legally drink." I point out, but of course he doesn't see that. To him alcohol has no limit.

"It's your birthday, you can find a way. You should do something fun."

"Sure, dad." I say just to please him.

"Good. I'm going to open my new bottle of whiskey before my date." He informs me.

He can never put the bottle down, which is the main reason my brother and I hate any form of alcohol. We saw it destroy our father after the nasty divorce when we were twelve.