Cry

Chapter One

"Cassidy, sweetheart, get up. We're leaving in a half-hour."

Mom doesn't have to tell me twice. In fact, she needn't have bothered telling me once to get out of bed-I had been up for hours already.

I rub my eyes tiredly and slide my legs off of my bed. After I stretch and yawn, I head to my closet to get ready for the day. The day I dread most every year.

I pick out a simple grey shirt and dark skinny jeans. I'm not feeling like it's a bright color day today. Not that it usually is. I dress quickly and pull on my black converse, then take my time getting to the bathroom, not wanting to leave my house.

I'm a wreck. My eyes have heavy bags under them from lack of sleep, my hair is messy and disheveled, and my eyes are dull and sad. I haven't gotten decent sleep for around a week and a half now.

It was like this every year.

I brush my hair until it returns to it's natural pin-straight, jet-black self, then apply a bit of foundation, powder, mascara and eyeliner. When I feel I'm at least relatively presentable, I shut off the lights in my bathroom and drag myself out, through the hall, and down the stairs. The house is silent, though I know my parents, brother and sister are all somewhere, awake.

I don't eat breakfast. I feel to sick in the stomach to do so. If I ate, I'd probably end up throwing it right back up, though I'm not completely sure I could force anything down my throat in the first place today.

Within five minutes, my family is downstairs, silent, sullen, and dreading the following day. We speak hardly a word to each other. We just file out the front door and get in the car.

I would normally be at school by now. But today is different. If today ever lands on a school day, my parents let us miss. They could care less.

The drive is short to the town's cemetery. Ten minutes at the most. But Dad drives slow, way under the speed limit. Many cars honk behind him, but he doesn't pay attention. We're all silently looking out the windows at the passing houses or the grey, overcast sky. The weather today always changed. Some years it was rainy, some even snowy, some were just plain overcast, like today, or some were sunny. I always thought the sunny days didn't fit the situation.

"Here," Mom says hoarsely as we pull in through the cemetery gates. Daddy drives another minute or two, passing hundreds of graves, before stopping on the side of the poorly paved road.

We all slowly and shakily climb out of the car and head in the direction we are so used to going to.

"Honey, it's okay," Dad whispers to Mom an arm around her shoulders as she begins to cry.

I don't let a single tear spill out. I stopped crying years ago. Though I felt pains in my heart every time I came, I hadn't cried since I was eleven. Ever. There was nothing to cry about, except for this of course. But even then, I never shed a tear.

We stop walking in front of a familiar headstone with a familiar name on it. We are stock still as we read the words in our heads. I can tell everyone else is crying. Not me though. I simply stare at the words carved onto the slightly weathered stone.

Carolina Marie Leefolt 

August 30th, 1996 - October 3rd, 2004

A wonderful daughter, sister, friend, and all in between.

May angels watch over you.

It's October the 3rd. It's been seven years today.

I still haven't spoken.

I miss you, Carolina.

A/N: Second chapter...still don't know if I'll continue? Hmm...