She's Not Afraid: A Liam Payne Fanfic

The Accident

After leaving the field I drove home to pick up some stuff before my visit. My house is an odd space. After mom's business blew up we had the money to completely restyle our house pretty much however we wanted to. I let my mom do the whole house except for my room, my bathroom, and the backyard. Half of the house is styled in an open beach shack kind of vibe. Where as my parts of the house are more wild and jungle themed. For instance my bed is actually an elevated hammock.

Damn I babble. Anyways... What was I doing again? Oh, right! Flowers, blanket, Notebook, Sweatshirt, IPo-. "Sweatshirt. Where's the sweatshirt?" Frantically I ran to my closet ruffling my hands through every piece of fabric stowed. My heart was racing now and eyes began to water with anger. How could I misplace the one thing that actually truly meant something to me?

I was running now, like a mad woman. Check under the bed, in the bathroom, moms closet, behind the doors, etc. Then I remembered. "Car. Its got to be in the car!" I ran out of the house, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. I popped the trunk open and was immediately relieved when I saw the Sweatshirt sitting there waiting to be worn. I grabbed it and stuffed it in my bag.

I walked back to the house only to shut and lock the door before my departure. Once again I took off in my big black SUV, but this time towards the cemetery.

It was the same as every Wednesday. Find the grave, lay the blanket down, put on the sweatshirt, take out the notebook and reminisce. I opened up to the first page of the book. There was a little picture pasted to the inside cover. It held a girl, young and innocent. She couldn't have been older than the age of four. She was laughing at the boy next to her. Probably the same age if not a smidge older. He had a glob of icing smashed on his nose from the cupcake in the girls right hand. It was sweet, I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

I flipped to the next page. I gasped at the black and white picture printed on the newspaper clipping. No matter how much I see that, I still freeze every single time. 'Teenage Freak Accident Car Explodes' read the headline. A silent tear crept down my cheek and stopped at the top ridge of my lip.

I scanned the article only absorbing the words 'death, drinking, and underage.' I looked at the picture again. It was horrifying. The little Nissan was trashed so hard you couldn't tell which end was the front.

I turned the page unable to handle anymore. It was the letter he had written back to me the summer I was in Europe for two months. I had taped it to the page of binder paper the night I found out he was dead. I read it to myself aloud.