Stepping Up

i | Tara

whole book dedicated to annesfictionn - they helped develop and create some of these characters <3

disclaimer :: heavy topics including but not limited to death and death of a parent. Down to reader discretion. Please do not continue if that will upset or make anyone uncomfortable.

"Tara, love, time to say goodbye to your mum," Liam placed his hand on the young teen's shoulder, who was gently caressing the stone in front of her with her thumb.

"Not now. Her flowers need water." Her head snapped, unlike her pained tone, in the direction opposite. The wind pushed aside her fringe, allowing it to part; framing her face. Dropping her body to pick up the watering can, a quick flick of her head let a tear or two escape her waterline, before carrying the plastic container out to the tap placed upon the side of the building in the Center of the cemetery.

Liam watched. "Tara. It's okay. It's okay to be feeling this way,"

A viscous head turn accompanied a shout. "Shut up. Shut up. You don't fucking know what it's like to lose your mum. So don't say it's okay because it's not your place to. Your mum is sat at home, knitting, watching the lastest episode of Coronation Street. My mum is dead. You may have lost your girlfriend but don't you fucking dare tell me that's the same as losing your mum because it fucking isn't." A tight knot formed in the teenagers throat; a panic swirling through her veins. An apology rolled it's way to the front of her tongue, but she bit it back.

"Tara," The man let out a small voice, not with a sense of nervousness, but almost regret and speechlessness. "Tara love. I'm sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how hard this has all been for you." A wry smile crawled across his lips, before It falling to the almost frown it placed itself at before.

Tara stamped her foot gently; a subtle hint to her standing her ground. No further words left her lips but a nod fell from her head.

A few minutes churned by. Neither one speaking nor communicating. It was almost if the whole point of the interaction was to discredit the others existence; to not acknowledge either's existence.

Silence.

Of which was only broken when Tara lowered herself to her knees, shuffling ever so slightly closer towards him. The watering can placed gingerly by the headstone, at such an angle water dropped to the soil.

"Thank you, erm, for not fighting back then." Her iris's wandered up to her father figure, her head still hung down. She had more to say; more to thank him for. But there had to be a right time.

"it's, " he hesitated "okay sweetheart. It's your story. It should be told your way and we won't speak over you," his arm had become wrapped around the girl's shoulders.

"And thank you. Thank you for taking me in. Even though I'm not yours. You did a grieving four year old some good, more good than a care system I bet."

"Your mum would have never forgiven me if I had let that happen. And then what you needed was as much stability as possible. I could provide that. And like your mother always said, you come first,"