Evanesce (minor reconstruction)

10. Talk About It

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Finally being able to breath for the first time since what has been forever, I readjusted the last photo frame on the wall before crouching down into the fabric cushioned sofa.

There were so many things that were just irreplaceable, but we had learnt to leave it behind and start afresh. 

But at least now after so many days, the house is in a habitable state, almost new everything. But it's the sentimental value that I missed the most. 

For the past few days when we were trying so desperately to find a lead on the Jenkins, it’s been near enough impossible. Their positioning is quite some drive away so finding any tracks was so slim. We all know why they did what they did. They wanted a reaction from us, cause us to do something stupid that would give away our base, we’d be doing the work for them. Let them find our base first, destroy our base and destroy our company so they would have no competition.

I stared at the naked wall where a previous photo had been placed. A photo of twenty-second of October, the first day I felt alive since I had arrived into this world of business. Doug and Dean wanted to take us out to some stupid theme park. But it was the one night I had been able to smile for the first time in months, it was the night I realised I had no choice but to accept my new life and these two new strangers. 

The photo taken of us all on a huge rollercoaster, we all looked a mess but I don’t think any of us actually cared. That night we stopped at a local photo shop and had it framed, stopping at a Macdonald to buy an ice-cream at a ridiculous time of night, we decided it was too good of a day to not leave with something from it. 

The photo was one of the first things I had noticed when we had originally began clearing. The photo frame itself that held the memory was smashed into dozens on the already covered floor. It was taken out and ripped into shreds, a pile of its remains scattered across the wreckage. 

"Hey, Ana?" My head shot up to greet a figure leaning against the frame of the door. His dark yet tall body towering over me.

"Hm?"

"Would now be a good time to talk?" He questioned, fiddling timidly with his thumbs like some kid being scolded.

"Er, yeah? I guess..." I awkwardly returned, questioning what he meant exactly by the word talk.

Taking both his hands and rubbing up and down the length of his face, he stepped forward, before sitting himself down on the sofa beside me.

"I assumed since the guys are out doing tasks and we've finished clearing up, it was... err, maybe time I should say what I want to." Jack added, trying his best to look as normal as he could. And failing at that, fidgeting and shuffling around in his seat every few seconds.

"Jeez, Jack. What is it? You act as if you're plotting my murder or something." I joked, but from the expression on his face he didn't find my humour so amusing.

"No, but..." He returned, very much with a serious meaning behind his words. 

"Just spit it out." I finally demanded, getting annoyed with the lack of words from his behalf.

Taking in a gasp of air, as if to prepare himself, Jack finally decided to start, "back when we were togeth–"

"I'm not having this talk." I affirmed, shaking my head in refusal before propping myself up: ready to leave the room.

"See. I knew you would do this. You never listen to a thing I have to say!" He angered back, locking his jaw tightly together, emphasising that well chiselled jawline even more.