You flip through the pages worn and torn, words smudged and paper yellowing at the edges. You read each word struggling to make out the smudged and scribbled little notes. You eyes are dry and burning but you do not blink for fear of loosing your place or missing a word.
Pictures frayed at the edges peer up at you from the leather bound book, you almost cry…almost. You come across one picture in particular that tugs at your heart. You see yourself (but happier then), a small half-smile adorns your face and you wonder if you'll ever smile again. She's right beside you in the photo; your arms are around each others shoulders and her other arm around another's, his smile is probably the largest.
You from, you miss him too. Your eyes fall on your brother. \he sits behind the three of you making sure you stay out of trouble. He is ruffling your and the blond boy's on the other side as well. This is a more recent picture and yet it seems years and years in the past.
You remember how much he loved you all and raised you all, teaching you about life…but never love, no, (they taught you that).
Pictures torn and frayed, words hard to make out and you still read on. You look through the photo album with the little notes written by a miss-matched, patched up and broken family of four.
You were once reunited…until you left again.
And now you pay the price, they're all gone, for once they left you behind, you who was always running, running, running, from your problems. Now they're gone. Not where you left them.
You chide yourself; did you really expect them to wait forever? (did you really expect her to?) no, no he didn't, half-severed ties, but never broken.
You close the dusty tome with a snap and grab your chest; the place where a heart used to beat (before you tore it out yourself and let yourself trample it while you scrambled and stampeded for power) you feel ready to burst.
You fall to the ground and vaquely hear sounds beneath you. Your world of greys and blacks suddenly gain color. Yellows, blues, oranges, reds, greens, pinks. Light awakens you, your breathing is strained. Your precious eyes hurt.
You think that now you can sleep. Knowing they're there and they were waiting.
Your eyes close and you smile.
The wind turns the dull dusty pages, turning the torn and frayed pictures, moving the scribbled messages. No longer just memories…
But a future.
A/N: interpret it how you want…this was an excersize I did to broaden my knowledge and feel of the famous traitor… I am a loyal sakuratard so screw off any flamers of her. No I am not up to date, im a few chapters behind.
Im busy, I have a life, screw you if you don't like it.
RRA&FAVE
DH