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o. before
EVEN THOUGH IT HAD HAPPENED A FEW MONTHS PRIOR, Verity could remember it like it was yesterday. It had been a dull, grey January day in Derry, and it was as though a melancholy veil had been cast over the town. Bloated clouds rolled across the ashy sky, sending raindrops the size of quarters down upon the landscape.
Verity lay on her bedroom floor, feet resting on the radiator to try and ease the chill from her bones. The Summers household was a hive of activity; her mother was baking, the aroma of cookies floating up the stairs; her father was reading in the living room; and her brother, Isaac, was playing in his room, the distinctive clatter of lego sounding at random intervals.
And Verity herself was in her room, listening to music and daydreaming. The accented voice of Robert Smith filled the room, and the girl hummed happily as the familiar notes of Close to me played.
The door creaked open, and she turned her head to see Isaac standing there, apprehension clouding his small face.
"You okay, Short-round?" she questioned, patting the space beside her.
He trudged over, flopping down on the rug. "Mommy wants me to go to the store," his voice trembled. "On my own."
She gave him a sympathetic look, running her hand through his mess of brown hair. "Ah, Shortie," she sighed, using her favoured nickname for him, "I'm sorry. But hey," she propped herself up on one elbow, and he did the same, mirroring her. "You're one of the bravest people I know! You know the way to the store, right?"
He nodded.
"Good. Plus, you might be able to get something for yourself too..."
She placed a dollar into his palm, giggling as his eyes widened comically.
"Oh wow! Is this all for me?" he asked, and the look of pure excitement on his face made her heart jump.
"Of course!" she laughed, watching as he raced to get his coat on. "And be back soon!"
He stopped at the door, still grinning as he looked at her. "You're the best big sister ever, Verity!" and then he was off, skipping down the stairs.
She lay back down on the floor, closing her eyes as she pictured the look of pure seven-year-old joy that was surely still on her brother's face.
She had known that he'd hold the money tightly on his way to the store, to be extra careful.
And she had been right; the money was still lying in his palm when they found his body a few days later. Held tightly. Still safe.
2022 author's note!
hello!! just a quick note before you continue, i wrote this book three years ago (jesus), when i was fifteen. although i still love the story, my writing style has changed quite a bit since summer 2019, so please keep that in mind. :)) as always, i'm so so glad you all enjoy this book, have fun and enjoy reading!! <3
