AN: Hey guys! This is Violet. This is my very first story, so I'm still a newbie at this. Sorry if this chapter is kinda short, I'll try to make them longer. Drop a review if you have time :)
Chapter 1
"Mom?"
She looks up at me while sitting on the couch, eyes rimmed with red. A few crumpled tissues lay beside her.
"Mom," I repeat. "I'm going outside. For a walk."
I stand there; waiting for her to say something, do something. But all she does is stare at me for a few seconds, blinks, then looks away. Like if I were a stranger, some 14-year-old girl who happens to look like the man she loved.
Feeling my throat clench up, I walk over to the closet to get my wool sweater, pull it on, and walk out the door. As I walk outside, the houses in my neighborhood blur in my peripheral vision, I feel the tears come. My legs move faster and faster, until I'm speed walking. Jogging. Running.
Soon the houses are gone and now I'm right by my elementary school. I run my hands over the blue walls with peeling paint.
Blue.
Blue is the color of the bottle of my dad's favorite cologne. Blue is the color of my mom's eyes, when they still had that sparkle every time hers would meet my dad's. Blue is the color of the picture frame, the one with the picture of us from the time we had a picnic in the woods.
Speaking of the woods, I see it from the place I'm standing. Walking up to it, I breathe the smell of pine. I gaze down at the ground and see many green pine needles with the occasional pinecone.
Green.
Green is the color of my dad's eyes, which was passed down into my own. Green is the color of the recliner my dad would sit on while watching the evening news. Green is the color of the emerald on my mom's wedding ring, the one my dad had given her all those years ago.
I look back up from the ground to the sky, noticing that the sun is setting and that I can actually see some stars now. The temperature gets colder as the sun starts disappearing from view, and I'm suddenly grateful I brought my wool sweater. I go at a slow pace now, hearing my steps crunching. Before I know it it's night, and crickets chirp around me, creating their own musical. Chirp… chirp… snap!
I twitch as I hear a twig snap behind me, and I quickly turn around, my hair whipping my face. There, before me, is a man. First thought that comes to mind is how tall he is. The second one comes along when I look higher and realize he has no face. He just stands there, and so do I. I haven't even noticed until now that the crickets stopped chirping. He seems to blend in with the darkness, considering his black suit.
Black.
Black is the color of my dad's hair before it started graying these past few months. Black is the color of the laptop he has been typing away in more and more. Black is the color of the marks he had under his eyes that showed lack of sleep.
I look up at the man's head again, taking in the detail more, now that my eyes got used to the dark. Where eyes are supposed to go, there are slight indents. There's a curve, a graceful one in my point of view, which marks where the nose belongs. However, I see nothing where the mouth is usually located. On top of all that, he is shockingly pale, his white skin looking as bright as the full moon in the sky.
White.
White is the color of my dad's teeth, which he started clenching more often. White is the color of those pills he started taking, the ones for depression. White is the color his face would get after a heated argument, when they thought I was sleeping, not eavesdropping on the staircase.
My throat clenches up yet again, and my vision blurs. This time, not just in my peripheral vision, but all of it. More memories of my dad continue to rush in my head. I just can't stop them. I subconsciously clench my teeth along with my fists. The man in front of me just stands there, not moving since I saw him… 10 minutes ago? 30? An hour? I don't know. I look over his formal attire, which is blurry though my tears. His red tie seems to stand out, though.
Red.
Red is the color of the dress shirt my dad had the day he left. Red is the color of the sports car he drove away in, the one that he always bragged about. Red is the color of the ink he used when he signed the divorce papers.
My tears involuntarily cascaded down my face at that thought, instantly trickling down my cheeks. Choked sobs come out, disrupting the silence that hung in the atmosphere. I bow my head down, closing my eyes. My shoulders shake slightly as my bottled up emotions from the past few days make themselves known. After a minute of crying, I hear movement in front of me.
I look up, seeing that the man moved. In fact, he's holding a hand out to me. I look down the inhuman length of his arm, until I reach his palm. His long bony fingers are open as he offers his hand. I contemplate within my mind as I gaze for a few seconds. I take it.