Dead Girl Talking

Chapter Six

I'm back!!! 

I am so so so sorry for my extreme absence but I have been very busy and didn't want to start writing without knowing exactly what I was going to write. Anyway I will probably come back to edit this chapter soon but I needed to publish:)

I hope you all enjoy. Please be a pearl and vote and comment, much love<3

My father is a man of many definitions. For example on my ninth birthday he got me a bicycle, a beautiful, baby blue one with a bow perfectly wrapped around the handle bars. I was devoted to this bike from the moment I unwrapped it. The only obstacle that was in my way was the fear of actually getting on the bike and learning to ride.

Then this one night, mid November, my father took that bicycle and I to the local park and refused to let me leave until I sat on it and pedalled, I kicked and screamed to go home, refusing to get on this bike. Until my father asked me why.

"Pumpkin, when your older your going to face things much worse than a bicycle" His face softened, "What are you so worried about?"

An older version of me would of laughed in his face. But I was ignorant back then.

"I'm not worried Daddy, I'm scared"

"Of falling?"

"No, thats not it" The reply was truthful, I wasn't afraid of falling. "I'm afraid I'm not brave enough to fly." 

My dad looked me straight in the eye as he replied.

" Well bravery isn't about being fearless, it's about having the fear and doing it anyway"     

And that was the lesson of bravery. Yet the one denotation that always comes back to me is his teaching of loyalty.

"Never let your loyalty make a fool of you"              

And yet here I sat, in Grace's play, she wrote me as the fool. My dad, the man who taught me how to read and laugh had betrayed all he stood for, yet here I was guilt covering every inch of me. I wasn't angry, or sad, I was guilty.  I know my dad loves my mum, it's a love story that Ashbourne treasures. Two high school sweethearts that withstood the test of time and children, but his love was shared with other women. A traitor branded in secret.

I could no longer process the words in front of me. And no matter how many times I read them they stayed the same, then again the past can't be changed. It was as if in two minutes I had breathed out all the life and trust I had known, and breathed in a new air. An air of unknowing. 

Before I knew what I was doing, I had put my coat on. A gorgeous Burberry one that I received from my parents for my fifthteenth. A joint present that had been split in half on this day. I turned the door handle of my room before turning around.

I may of changed but Ashbourne had not and I wasn't willing to sacrifice my lack of dignity for one walk. So I reapplied my lipstick and made myself look presentable, and with a shakey breath and numb legs I walked out the door. 

I paused. 

Was I really following a dead girls order?

This could all be lies she contracted to turn her suicide into murder.

But I knew Grace, and deep down I knew my father.

So I continued walking.