A/N ~ Thank you so much for all your support and I'm so glad you all stuck with this... *cough cough* crap *cough cough*. Anyways thanks and I hope you enjoy this chapter. FINALLY the last ever chapter xD. There is one chapter uploaded of a new fanfic which is called Life's A Game Show if you guys are interested to keep up with that. Thanks
So there will be one more part added to this story, a question and answer kind of this, so anyone can ask characters questions to fulfil their curiosity. Anywho, thanks so much!
And, comments and votes would be nice. Let me know what you thought. Most appreciated <3 ~ Zana
Chapter Twenty three
~ Fausto’s Point Of View ~
Five years later ~ (Fausto is eleven years old)
I was sat on my bed, edged against the wall and allowing the tears to stream down my cheeks. Some of it made it into my mouth while a few travelled down to my chin, falling in drops onto the back of my hand. For the past four years I’ve been doing exactly that on this particular day, not that I don’t do it any other day. It’s just I let everything out specifically on this date.
I sat cross-legged, a handmade book in front of me on the bed. Through my blurred vision I gazed at the countless pictures drawn by or for Ignacia, read every piece of paper she had written to me that were pasted into the book. My hand shook as I carefully flipped over each page, ensuring it was free of creases. I had made this scrap book a few days after Ignacia… relieved herself. Even more tears flowed, my stomach fluttering with sickness at the thought.
I continued to flick through the pages. Memories: that’s all they were now… all she was now. I recall spending so much time in her room where she’d practically do anything I’d ask her. I don’t remember her mentioning any other member of the family. I can barely retain information about her but all I know is that she loved me and I loved her.
I came to the end of the scrap book and closed it. Why does it still hurt so much? I let out a wavy breath. It was time. All this time since I woke up a few hours ago I was just stalling for time but I was ready now: ready to open the letter…
I jumped as a knock on my door surprised me. That person proceeded to twist the handle and a surge of panic filtered through my body momentarily until I recalled I had locked the door. I let out a breath out of relief. I just needed to be alone for now.
“Fausto baby, we’re all waiting for you downstairs. We’re ready to start. Please come out of your room.” Mums beg was full of anxiety. She attempted many a times to force me out of my room but each time I’d refuse, searching for a new thing to distract me with.
“No!” I sniffed, replying harshly. I wiped away the snot filled tears vigorously with the back of my hand.
“Fussy, please come out. We’re all waiting,” Dad attempted.
“No! Go away,” I answered rudely, spluttering a cough due to my dry throat.
“Let me try,” I heard Mum whisper before she knocked again. “Look, Fussy, the boys are downstairs too and they have a busy schedule. We just want to get it over and done with.” I don’t understand why they do that every year. They don’t actually have to do it so her point didn’t falter my determination at all. I remained silent.
“Okay fine, we’re going to start. When you’re ready just join us in the living room,” Dad instructed before I heard him beckon Mum away. I heard their footsteps fade through time and soon I was greeted with silence again. I concentrated on my heavy breathing when my phone vibrated underneath me. I had misplaced it earlier and had no idea where it went. I pulled it out from under my butt as the screen flashed a new message for me.