Devils Revenge

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

She was the person who loved all things unloved.

She loved the bugs no one liked, the animals considered ugly and most of all, people.

She loved people, she was talkative and kind. She loved everything, absolutely everything.

Flowers, pottery, me.

Those were the things I knew she loved most.

She's gone now.

And I miss her, I miss her more than anything in the world. I miss her tight hugs before bed and early in the morning. I miss the kisses she would place on my cheek before she left for school.

I just miss her being around.

I miss her.

My mother and father have love I've never seen before. Even after around thirty-one years of them being married, they still look at each other with that lovey-dovey look in their eyes.

I don't know how they always have a strong face for us. But I know it's a facade, I just let them be.

My father doesn't like it when I don't work but he understands. He's one of the most understanding people I know, not before her though.

My mother tries encouraging me to write in a journal, secretly I do. But I think she knows I do now because I'm constantly carrying my small leather book around.

I stared down at the pages in the book, reading over the words but they just kept blurring in together, like every day, of every week. I eventually closed it, sighing and putting it in the pocket of my sweatpants.

I stared at the corkboard hung up onto my wall. Pictures were beginning to fall off, hanging by rusty pins and staples. I looked away, knowing that I would have to fix it eventually. I stood up and left my room, going next door.

I opened the door and stared around. My pottery room is my favourite place to be. Clay and tools littered the floor. I liked it messy, I worked better when it was.

I roamed around the room, looking at all the clay items I've made, in dedication to her.

I made cups with engravings of her name and her favourite things. I carved flowers and butterflies and bumblebees into it, then wrote her name at the bottom.

I make plates for my mother, and then glaze them for her. I make cups for my father because I know how much he likes to use them for tea.

I make animals for Alora, mostly teddy bears and turtles. And for my brothers, I make meaningless things for them to smash because I know how much they like to destroy things when they're angry or hurt.

But today I'm only making something for her.

I sat down at my stool and threw my shirt off. I like to work bare from the top. I went over and grabbed some clay from a bag and placed it on my wheel. I quickly collected all my tools from the floor and placed them in the bucket of water besides me.

I then turned the wheel on and started shaping the clay.

I wet my hands and began to mould the clay into a cylinder. My fingers brushed the material, curving the top downwards, making a sort of funnel shape.

I was making a vase for her favourite flowers.

The cylinder stood tall. It was beginning to look like a vase. It had a wide base and kinda tall neck.