11 | Wounds

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My days always begin with a feeling of melancholy. When I wake up, my eyes often wander to the photo frame that's sitting on my study table.

The girl in the picture is really pretty. She was smiling at the camera, lively and radiant, while cradling a baby Judy in her arms.

Seeing her face brim with happiness, my throat tightens.

It must have been taken a couple of years ago, her face is a younger version of me. And yet, the more I look at her, the more I'm convinced that the current me looks nothing like before. When I stare at myself in the mirror, all I see is a ghost-like girl staring right back at me. Dull eyes, pale skin and pallid lips.

My body is just a vessel without an essence. It's sad to say this but whoever that girl was in the picture has completely vanished into thin air.

Staring at the picture every morning is almost like a routine now. It's a reminder of who I used to be and what I've become. A girl who's now weak, clueless and dependent on others.

"Riley?"

Aunt Abbie pops her head into my room suddenly, eyeing my outfit oddly–sweatshirt and jeans–but she says nothing. A few times before, she has encouraged me to wear a sleeveless top or a dress but I refused. I'm not going to be wearing something like that anytime soon, not when there's a scar running across my forearm–a little souvenir from the car accident.

It's thin and faint but still visible enough to draw attention and arouse whispers.

Aunt Abbie inclines her head at me. "Are you ready to leave?"

I nod, grab my bag and we leave the house. She walks me to the bus stop down the street. Even though she doesn't speak much, obvious worry reflects in her eyes.

For the past week, she has been driving me to school and back home. I don't wish to trouble her more than I already am, hence, I managed to convince her to let me take the bus on my own. It literally took me a whole day to persuade her that I'm capable of learning the route and also remind her of the existence of GPS in case I get lost.

I reassure her for the fifth time. "I'll be fine, I promise."

When she hears my words, she glances at me, her eyes softening immediately.

"I'm sorry for being so overprotective," she apologizes. "I-I can't help it, especially not after..." But the rest of her words get stuck in her throat and she swallows hard.

"Not after...what?" I push, before adding on. "The car accident?

Despite living with Aunt Abbie for weeks, the topic about my parents has never completely surfaced. It isn't because I don't wish to know about them, but rather I've a strong feeling that my aunt is hiding something from me. Each time I try to raise a question relating to them, she steers the conversations away from them neatly.

But today, I'm going to try again.

"Aunt Abbie," I ask calmly. "My parents... Where are they?"

A long silence ensues. I watch as she turns her attention away from me. Wearing a stiff, expressionless look, she stares blankly at the passing cars on the road. The only visible reaction I get is how her hands are clenched tightly by her sides until her knuckles turn white.

A minute passes. When she doesn't respond, I press my lips together and draw a deep breath. At her silence, the suspicion that I've been harboring for a while now is slowly becoming a reality.

"They're both gone, aren't they?"

Aunt Abbie jerks immediately. "Not now, Riley." She whispers, her voice shaking, but she doesn't deny I'm wrong. "You aren't ready."

I stare at her quietly. I want to probe further but her ashen face stops me. Never have I expected Aunt Abbie to react this badly and I fear that it might end up breaking us instead. It seems like whatever happened a year ago didn't just hurt me, but the people around us. It's always harder to be the one who's left behind than the one who leaves.

How hard was it like for Aunt Abbie to see through her own sister's funeral and watch over her niece's comatose state for a year?

Am I not ready?

Or is it you?

Reaching out a hand to take her clammy ones, I murmur softly. "If you say so."

She holds her breath, her glossy eyes glistening with tears. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll tell you when it's time, I promise."

"It's alright," I say. "I trust you."

An awkward silence settles between us. To ease it away, I decide to change the subject into something less depressing.

"How close were you and...Mom?"

Aunt Abbie's tense shoulders relax, the ends of her mouths quirking up. "Very. Ever since we were kids, she was always getting on my nerves. Stealing my clothes and shoes, us trying to compete to be our parents' favorite and who gets control of the tv... She was always saying 'whoever says that being the older sibling has to be generous all the time is bullshit'."

"And after I got married," Aunt Abbie carries on, "she bought a huge fridge for me and stuck a note on it saying, 'Thanks for inviting us over for the upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners'."

Hearing stories about a witty woman who gave birth to me piques my curiosity. "She sounded like a handful."

There's laughter in Aunt Abbie's eyes. "She definitely was. She was mean, but she was fun and caring in her own ways." A wistful smile forms on her face. "God, I miss her so much."

I bite my bottom lip. "Will you ever allow me to return to our old home?" I ask. "I'm hoping it might help to ring a bell in my head."

"Of course! I'll bring you back some time. I've met the new owners once and trust me, they are a bunch of friendly folks. I'm sure they'll understand and let you have a look around their place."

"Thanks." The sincerity in my voice startles her, but no amount of words are enough to express my heartfelt gratitude. Especially after everything she has done for me. "Not just for this, but everything else too."

"Oh, Riley." Aunt Abbie squeezes my hand. "You don't have to thank me. We'll go through this together. After all, we're a family. We won't leave you behind."

"Family," I repeat the word. It sounds foreign on my lips and yet, it feels nice to hear it. I turn back to stare at the front with a thoughtful look, watching as the bus approaches our stop.

I used to believe that everything gets better with time, but now, I'm starting to think differently. The growing bonds with the people around me might just become the reason for me to move on in life with confidence.

A/N: There's only eleven chapters so far but I'm already seeing a number of you guys reading this book so I just want to say thank you for joining me on this journey! ❤️🥰

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A/N: There's only eleven chapters so far but I'm already seeing a number of you guys reading this book so I just want to say thank you for joining me on this journey! ❤️🥰

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