Chapter One: Evie
Head between my knees, I sit at the foot of my bed, tears dripping onto the mattress. My face is sticky and eyes swollen, from the habit I have been getting into daily: crying. All I can think of is her face, gentle eyes, and warmth on a cold winter day. Mom. She's gone now. All gone. And right before my birthday too. I smile. 11. She loved that age; told me I will love it. She said it was the best year of her life, or at leas close to first after meeting dad. She told me this at a picnic, after hiking up a vast mountain. I almost smile, but I can't. The happy memories just hurt me more. Dad is worried about me. He thinks that I should "Go play with your elementary friends before we ship you off to middle school!" I wish I could laugh at his bad jokes. She used to cuddle with me in bed, whispering my name, "Evie, Evie…" then she used to pull back my light blond hair and twirl it around. I loved it when she did that. I fall back on to my bed and let out a loud gasp. Darn it. My dad wasn't supposed to hear me crying. I shuffle quickly behind my covers and pretend to be sleeping. Quickly, but I know he knows. Once he passes, I walk carefully towards my closet and pray that the door won't creek when I open my closet. Nope, good. I pull out her old toy broom that she got when she was 12. She was really into magic and stuff as a kid. I always appreciated it, but never really got the whole thing. The broom is so delicately done, though. So much detail for a child's toy… Nope, to many memories. I place it back and decide it won't be so bad to go to sleep for a while. Unfortunately, it's almost impossible for me to rest my eyes without seeing pictures in them.
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