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Book Two in the Darien Grace Chronicles
"I couldn't hear the music. I knew that it was pulsing all around me, I could feel it vibrate through the air, but I couldn't hear it. I hadn't been able to hear it for a while now. I ju...
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Darien Grace
Time passed differently now. I wouldn't necessarily say that it was faster. Faster would mean that I had any sort of reference for the months before—months that would always be missing from my memory. I was glad that I didn't remember most of what happened, though. I remembered reckless nights and more bottles than a liver should be able to process in a lifetime. I could still recall flashes of those lost nights, but never the details. I didn't think that I would actually be able to process or accept them if I did. I was used to doing stupid shit; hell, I used to live by it. I'd changed, though. I hadn't meant to, but I couldn't deny it either. I'd always thought that I was so alive—that Ren was alive. It was obvious now how wrong I'd been. I felt more now. It seemed as if everything had some sort of meaning or sensation. It was indescribable.
Weeks passed without my notice and I began to believe that I could spend the rest of my life existing in this space. I loved France. It brought out a different part of my soul I'd never before encountered. As the days passed, I didn't quite need to forget as much. I felt like I was in a bubble here, a blissful sun-filled bubble. I had my family - well, part of it anyway. John had come up for a long weekend and I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Caleb so happy. We were all happy.
Initially, France had been my escape. It was a place that I could use to disappear for the rest of the world. It was so much more than that now, though. It was a part of us, healing old wounds and scars we hadn't know to exist.
Every other time we'd visited France, Jas and I couldn't be bothered by Caleb and John. We'd partied on the beach until dawn. We'd danced barefoot through the streets at two in the morning, bottles of summer wine in hand. We'd slept the days away, before drowning our hangovers with another bottle... This time, though, I spent every moment I could with my family. I drank in the warmth of the new summer sun as parts of my old self began to resurface.
In France, things were easy between us. We just existed in a world of warmth, happiness, and laughter. I didn't really have a way to describe it. Things were uncomplicated. It was so goddamn different from anything else I'd experienced. I never wanted to leave.
* * *
About a week after moving into Caleb's family home, the hospital had called me back in for a check-up. Begrudgingly, I'd agreed. Caleb had needed to clear up a few things with the University for John so he had sent Jas with me. I'd been able to handle waiting in the sterile lobby for less than five minutes before I abandoned Jas to search for coffee.
Three minutes later, I made it to the hospital's cafeteria and the smell of hardly edible food assaulted my senses. I'd almost turned around and left when the sight of a small coffee bar caught my eye. I downed it.
My head was buzzing from the caffeine by the time I stumbled into a brightly colored section of the hospital—the children's ward. I had no idea what drew me there, but I couldn't suppress the urge to keep going. Children were the only truly honest bits of humanity. For the most part, they were untouched my the Universe's cruel design, but these children had been forced to struggle with shit unfit for adults four times their age. Yet, somehow they still managed to smile. It astounded me.
