Unforgotten

2

I WAS OFFICIALLY LOST in a huge airport in the middle of a city that I didn't know at all.

I couldn't understand it; how was I ever going to find one of my brothers in there. The size of the airport was almost the size of my old hometown. Trying to find one person in the bustle of all the other people was like trying to find a needle from a haystack. Impossible. If that wasn't hard enough, I didn't really even know what the person who I was so hard trying to find looked like.

In those eight years I had been apart from my brothers, I hadn't seen a single photo of them. In my eyes, I was still searching for the people from eight years back. And those faces in my eyes, I remembered well. All the looks, all the emotions, they were all in my mind clearly. That just didn't happen to help me.

I sighed and was just about to give up trying to understand the map of the airport on its wall when I heard it. Never in my life could I have thought that a single clear of throat would make such a warm feeling fill my body.

"How much longer are you going to stare at that map before you know where you are?" The familiar voice spoke. "There is a text 'you are here' if it helps yo..."

Charles Miller.

He was the second oldest sibling of us all. A total teddy bear from head to toes; or at least that's what he used to be.

That brother wasn't able to finish his sentence as I pretty much jumped into his embrace. He did get a tiny heart attack from the sudden movement, but it didn't take long for him to steady himself and wrap his own arms around me just as tight as I wrapped my arms around him. He gave so comforting and warm hugs that the teddy bear in my backpack had no chance against him. And god I had missed that; I really needed that hug.

I didn't even bother to look at his face; still didn't have a single idea what he looked like, but I knew that the hug hadn't changed even a bit in those eight years.

"You missed me this much, huh?"

I shook my head, as he pressed a tiny kiss on my forehead.
"You have no idea."

It was a long hug, a long, long hug, but it didn't seem to bother either of us. I needed confirmation that he was indeed there, one of the seven who I so dearly loved. In that moment I knew that all the fear I had had was pointless, he was the same. My heart warmed so much that it almost hurt, it was almost burning, but it didn't matter. He was there, my brother, and in that moment, I was able to relieve the heavy bag of stones I was carrying on my back. I was able to breathe, and a smile, a genuine wide smile fell on my lips.

Charles nodded; his lips still pressed against my head.
"I missed you too, Lilah, so freaking much."

When I had gotten enough of the hug I pulled away and was finally able to take a look on his face.

He had changed, that's for sure. He wasn't the sixteen-year-old teenager anymore, he was an adult now. He was still blonde, his eyes were still blue like the sky, and his smile still reached the sky, but he had a stubble, he was taller, his body was more muscular, he had tattoos and he looked a lot more mature. I wasn't looking at a boy, I was looking at a man, and that man was my teenager brother.

I touched his cheek softly with my hand.
"Oh my god, you are an adult."

"I know." He nodded with a chuckle, giving another kiss on my forehead. "And you are not five."

"I know."

"Gosh, I missed you child." He ruffled my hair, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Let's get you home now so we can catch up the missed eight years?"

I nodded my head.
"I can't wait to see the others."

"You might change your mind when you see them." Charles chuckled, starting to walk me out of the airport where I had been completely lost. "In eight years, some people grow up, and then some people just get even more childish and stupid."

"Right."

Turned out that I could've just followed the signs showing the way outside, but me being me, I was too dumb to look at the walls. Good thing was that we, or more like Charles, found our way out of the stupid airport to the warm outside air of the summer in Jacksonville.

I was home, and when we stepped outside, I was able to feel it in my heart. It smelled like home, the sun burned my skin like it used to burn, the air felt like home, and the people around looked like home. I was a child again, a child who had never been packed into a moving load straight to Canada. I was a child who had been just in a vacation and was now returning home like nothing had ever happened. The city in front of me hadn't changed, not even a bit. It was still there, my home.

I couldn't help but let a big smile appear on my face.

"This is weird." I murmured after a moment of just analyzing the life around me. "So weird."

"Still the same, huh?"

I nodded.
"Still the same."

Charles led me to his car.

Fancy, which wasn't a surprise remembering the lifestyle I used to be part of when I was a child. Family business, a very successful one, was behind the luxurious life the Miller family lived. It was completely the opposite of the life I had lived with mum and Michael. Where we had to carefully compare the prices of water, my father and his seven sons slept on golden sheets and ate diamonds for breakfast on the other side of the world.

The car was white. I wasn't good at knowing car brands, but I knew that if I scratched it, my brother wouldn't really be proud of me.

He gave a little glance towards my face and chuckled at the look on my face.
"It's nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Don't scratch it, though." He spoke, patting my shoulder. "It's my precious treasure, and if you hurt it, you hurt me."

Told so.

I was a very clumsy person and the term unlucky was a big part of my life. That and the expensive elegant car in front of me didn't seem like a good combination.

A sceptic look fell on my face as I watched how my brother walked to the driver's seat and closed the door. I looked at the car like it was the most fragile thing in the world. I didn't dare to open the door, I didn't dare to take another step towards the car, being scared that it would just suddenly break into my hands, like just my breathing would leave a horrifying scratch on the white paint.

Charles rolled down the front window.
"What are you doing, get in."

"Yeah, just..." I started with a sigh. "How do I open it?"

"How do you what?"

"The door." I pointed the door. "How do I open it without having any chance of scratching it?"

Charles' lips twitched upwards.
"Just get in, kid."

I opened the door as carefully as I could, probably looking very stupid while doing so, because Charles laughed. Like genuine, real laugh, making dimples appear on his cheeks.

"It's not funny." I gave him a look, sitting down on the leather seat. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I was kidding, Lilah." He shook his head, an amused smile still covering his face. "Besides it's not a vase, you won't break it by touching it."

"Whatever."

Charles ruffled my hair.
"Bless your soul, honey, bless your soul."

Unforgotten

Six years I lived in that building; for six years of my life I slept there, played there, ran the stairs up and down and breathed the air in there, but still the sight amazed me when that building appeared in front of my eyes.

It really wasn't a house, it was more like an estate, a castle.

A huge building made of completely white stone. Big windows with black details. The black double door inside with the marble stairs in front of it. The fountain welcoming every person who came through the huge gates securing that building. It was so elegant that it took your breath away. There it was all in its glory, a place that I was supposed to call home again after living in a tiny rotten two-bedroom apartment in a suburb.

I stepped out of the car and couldn't help but sigh.

It was so surreal. How did I ever even settle for the poor crappy life when this was waiting for me in another country? How did mum and I even go from this life to living in the tiny suburb with no money for anything extra? How was the building in front of me normal to me when I was a little child?

"Home sweet home, huh?" Charles spoke, stepping out of the car next to me. "The flower beds aren't as colorful as when you and mum still lived here, but other than that pretty much the same."

"How was this an everyday sight to me?" I questioned. "I feel like I can't breathe."

Charles chuckled.
"Let's go inside."

The second the front door was opened by Charles a warm and nostalgic feeling filled my heart.

It was the sight in front of me.

The space was an open space, and almost completely made of white marble. The marble floor was very slippery under the little legs of the six-year-old Delilah. You were able to see straight to the backyard through the glass doors on the other side of the space. The backyard where I always used to play hide and seek with my brothers. Two staircases which united into one staircase, and that glorious chandelier right in between. I used to run those marble stairs up and down in the hope of touching the stars. I never succeeded in that, but I however did get a lot of bruises.

Then there was the scent.

I remembered it so well that it felt like a dream to stand in the middle of it. It hadn't changed a bit. The scent of home; every home had that, and it made every home special in its own way. Our was something mixed with cleanser, roses and champagne. I don't know how that scent made its way into our house, but it was good, and it was a sign of home.

"I lied." I spoke after a moment. "Outside I was able to breathe, now I really cannot breathe."

We walked straight upstairs.

The second floor was the floor of every bedroom in the house. In age order obviously, making my room furthest from the staircase. Then there was the working space, which was dedicated to my father and oldest brother. A literal gym with everything a person would need for a workout. A movie room too scary for the little Delilah. A guest room, and another guest room. A room with only a piano. And a library with millions of books which mum had all read.

When my gaze finally after eight years fell on the boring white door with tons of stickers, my vision blurred.

My room.

I didn't waste another second and barged inside. I didn't really even look whether my second oldest brother had even followed me there, I rushed in like I was dreaming and going to wake up soon. That room I had wanted to see for the past eight years, and I wasn't disappointed.

It was the same. Untouched like I had never left it.

A king-sized bed in the middle of the room because who six-year-old doesn't need a bed that big. Princess curtains around the bed were a must have, and like every other thing in the room they had to be in the color of pink. The walls were pink, my sheets were pink, the headboard of the bed was pink, the fluffy carpet on the floor was pink, and the huge dollhouse by the closet was pink. My stuffed animal collection was in a beautiful row on top of the bed, half of them pink obviously. Then there was the desk, and on top of it was still the drawing I had started the day we left. It was a flower, very very artistic conception of a flower. The pink curtains in the room were closed, preventing the sunlight from coming to the room through the huge windows.

The pictures, the toys, the memories; they were all in there and exactly on the same spot as I had left them.

"You didn't change it..." I whispered, not really trusting my own voice. "All these years, you kept it untouched?"

Charles placed his hand on my shoulder giving it a tiny squeeze, noticing how the tears welled up into my eyes.
"Of course, we did; we waited you to come back."

"It's like I never left." I chuckled as I couldn't stop the tears from dropping. "I'm gonna cry."

"It's been too long." Charles sighed as he brushed his hand through my hair. "This door was closed for too long."

I cried and didn't even try to stop myself from doing so.

But no, it wasn't anything bad, I was just happy, so relieved, and finally able to let go of all the fear that had been holding me back. This ginger girl was finally home, and she wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm gonna let you..." Charles started after a long pause of silence. "I'm gonna let you settle in."

I wiped away the tears.
"Yes, thank you."

"We are all eating dinner at six, so come down by that."

Unforgotten

"Georgia as in Georgia fucking Parker?" A voice laughed. "No way dude."

"I know." Another voice. "She's hot and all but that girl is a fucking slu..."

Silence.

The two teenagers fell into complete silence when they noticed me standing by the doorway. I had been there for a while, not a long time, but enough to know that this so-called Georgia Parker had slept with my brother. I didn't dare to step in, but I didn't leave either; just waited for someone to notice my presence in the dining room where the two teenager boys were sitting.

"Lil." The one closer to me murmured with such an uninterested voice that my presence made me cringe.

Edwin.

My youngest older brother; the younger twin. He was eight, almost nine, when I last saw him. Now he wasn't a child anymore, he was seventeen. Seventeen with no interest in his eyes.

Dark brown was the color of his hair. Dark was pretty much the color of his everything. His eyes were dark, his clothes were dark, and the look on his face was somewhat dark. His body was built with different kinds of tattoos. Edwin reminded a little of his old self, but all the light and interest in his appearance had vanished. The same eyes, the same facial features, and the strawberry mark under his left eyebrow; those were still there and looking at the cold unfamiliar face, those were the things that prevented me from running away.

Then there was the other one; the older one, Aiden.

He wasn't an identical copy of his twin, but they still reminded each other a lot. Aiden was older by fifteen minutes, he was a little shorter, his eyes weren't as dark as Edwin's, his style was different, and there was no strawberry mark under his eyebrow. He had tattoos but far away from as many as Edwin did. Aiden also seemed a tiny little bit more interested in me, who he had not seen for eight years.

"Shit." Was the only word that left his mouth.

Edwin rolled his eyes.
"Shit indeed, she's a fucking teenager."

"Hi?" I finally opened my mouth, an insecure whisper leaving my tightly sealed lips.

They looked at me like I was crazy, like I had said something very stupid, and after a quick share of look between each other, they continued talking. They continued talking like I had left the room, like I wasn't there, and they had never even seen me there.

Rude.

That's when I remembered why I had ever even been scared about this; that's when I remembered it again. Eight years: people change. I was more like a total stranger to those people I shared the same blood with, and those people were strangers to me. It wasn't simple, it wasn't as simple as I had for that minute when I had seen Charles thought.

Edwin and Aiden were kids. Those kids lost their mother, they lost their little sister, but they grew up. They grew up in the thought that those two would never come back and they learned to live with that. Now that they were looking at one of those two, it was like the past fell on their shoulders again.

"Shit!" I couldn't stop the curse word of fright from escaping my mouth when a hand was placed on my shoulder.

At least I got the attention of my two brothers back to me.

"I mean sorry." I shook my head, turning around to look at the source of my sudden scare. "I mean..."

"Hey kid."

"Holy cheesecake."

"In the future, don't say shit becau..."

I jumped into the person's arms without another thought.

He chuckled but wrapped his arms around me tightly, giving a bunch of nasty kisses around my forehead making a giggle escape my mouth. I couldn't even reach the ground with my toes anymore as he lifted me off the ground; that's how tightly the person hugged me.

Warm and safe.

In a quick second I forgot about my scared and uncertain thoughts again. I was home, maybe two people did not like that very much, but I was still home warm and safe. That hug really reminded me of that, and I really really needed that reminder.

The person really needed that hug too.

"How can you be this old?"

Bryson.

Third oldest sibling; the brain of the family.

Bryson's hair was mocha brown, and it was very curly, almost like a whirlwind. His eyes were also brown, and something inside them reminded me of happiness. A few tattoos were covering his arms, and I was able to recognize the handwriting of our mother on one in his left arm. Other than the two others in the room, he looked like he cared a lot. There was a huge amount of interest in his eyes, on his face. If I saw right, there even was a tiny tear in the corner of his right eye.

He was fourteen back then, and nothing had changed. He had grown up for sure, he had gotten a few tattoos, his body was more muscular, but nothing else. Mostly he was just the person I had seen in my eyes before.

And he still smelled like coffee.

"I don't know." I answered as a tiny sob escaped my mouth. "How can you be this old?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, fucking fucking shit..." A voice echoed through the room as a new person stepped in. "Which one of us does Weston hate the least?"

We all turned our heads towards the person.

That one couldn't be anyone else than Anthony Miller. The third youngest brother; fourth youngest sibling.

Anthony, just like the twins, was still in high school. He was a senior after the summer and was wearing a senior hoodie when he stepped into the dining room. Anthony's hair was also brown and curly, but not as curly as Bryson's. Brown eyes, father's eye color. Anthony was tall, almost two heads taller than my short self. He only had one tattoo, on his pinkie, but I couldn't really see what it was.

"What did you do?" Bryson questioned with a roll of his eyes.

"I scratched Weston's car." He answered, taking a seat next to Aiden. "He borrowed it to me with one condition, and guess what it was..."

"Don't scratch my fucking car or I'll kill you?"

"Yeah." Anthony nodded with a forced smile on his face. "So, I'm gonna die."

"Good job, brother."

Anthony turned his gaze towards me, and a confused look fell on his face.
"Who's the girl?"

Ohh.

As much as I tried to, I couldn't prevent the hurt from appearing on my face. How didn't he recognize me? How was it so hard to recognize a freckled blue eyed ginger child out of a freckled blue eyed ginger girl? I hadn't changed a bit, well, maybe a little bit. I was older and maybe a little taller, but my face still exuded the energy of Delilah.

"Your sister, you idiot." Bryson answered an unimpressed look falling on his face.

Anthony laughed like it was a joke but when he realized the serious look on Bryson's face, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Okay, that's not Delilah."

"Yes, she is."

"Fucking hell." Anthony's chair scratched against the floor when he stood up. "Holy..."

I shrugged.
"Missed me?"

Anthony moved next to me, his eyes not even once leaving my face, and when he got close enough, he pulled me into a very awkward bone crushing hug. I don't think that the bone crushing part was his intention, but with the force he had inside his body it wasn't a surprise.

It definitely wasn't a long hug like the Charles or Bryson hug, but it still was a hug. A hug pretty much the same that the little nine-year-old Anthony would give; awkward enough, very harsh, but still someway comforting and warm. What was the best part was that the hug showed me that he cared, at least a little bit, because he bothered to walk all the way to the other side of the room just to hug me.

"Fucking hell..." He repeated. "You are a teenager."

"Fucking hell, you are an adult." I borrowed his choice of words with an innocent smile on my face.

"Don't curse." Anthony punched my arm softly, or supposedly softly. "Little girls don't curse."

"But I thought I was a teenager."

"Oh my..." Anthony placed a hand on his forehead as he walked back to his seat next to the twins. "How will we ever handle a fourteen-year-old girl in this household?"

"Easily." I shrugged. "I would be more concerned about the moody twins."

"True." Anthony chuckled. "C'mon, idiot, sit next to me during dinner."

Gladly I walked to the chair next to him and sat down.

Edwin and Aiden weren't really interested in the situation because they both started scrolling through their phones. Not that it was a big surprise. They really didn't seem happy to see my ginger curls in their dining room on that chill summer day they had been enjoying. An enjoyable evening before I joined in; turned out to be the worst evening in their lives.

Anthony, on the other hand, was very interested.

"How's teenage life going, dude?" He patted my shoulder as he asked. "No boys, no alcohol, nothing stupid, right?"

"No boys, no alcohol, nothing stupid." I nodded my head. "I'm fourteen, not seventeen."

"When I was fourteen..." Anthony started but cut himself off. "Never mind, you don't want to know."

"Right." I giggled. "What about you?"

"I was doing great before..."

"Oh my fucking god." A hysterical laugh cut Anthony off when another person stepped into the room. "Who scratched Weston's car?"

"...that happened." Anthony finished his sentence, giving the person a serious look. "Not funny."

"How should I say this without making you cry but, dude, he's going to fucking kill you brother."

Jordan Miller.

The middle one from the seven; fourth youngest, fourth oldest.

Brown hair, brown eyes; the basic. His hair was curly from the top, and from the sides he had cut it shorter. Jordan was the athlete of the family, and where all of my brothers looked very sporty, that middle brother looked another level. His body was built of muscles, and his shoulders were so broad that it definitely was a good shoulder to cry on. Jordan did have few little tattoos, but they were nothing big: pretty much a tiny flower, an airplane, a butterfly, a compass, a tiny text and a date in Greek numerals. No idea what that date was.

"Do you think it's funny that your brother kills your brother?"

"No, I don..." Jordan turned his gaze from his brother to me, who he hadn't even seen yet. "...hi."

"Hi."

"What was the thing about leaving the country with mother and not coming back for like eight years, huh?"

"Not my decision."

"Then you just this suddenly come here and don't even give a hug to your favorite brother."

"Yes." I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest as a little smile fell on my face. "No."

Jordan opened his arms.
"Bring it in, little sister."

I jumped up from the chair, making it fall backwards, and after a few running steps, I was already wrapped around the middle brother's arms.

For four years I hadn't hugged a single person. After mum's death there was no one to hug, except for my stuffed animal. However, on that day it changed, I had hugged more people than I had known for the past eight years. I had been given so many hugs that they almost replaced all the missed years. All the missed years where I had been hugging myself when feeling sad or scared.

"I'm gonna cry."

"Oh god please don't." Jordan closed his eyes, his arms still tightly around me. "My shirt's gonna be ruined."

"Very funny."

"I missed you..." He sighed. "...shithead."

"I missed you too."

He pulled away from the hug with a last ruffle of my hair, which was more like a deliberate intention to mess up my French braids. As revenge I punched his arm, but he just chuckled saying something like 'that tickled'. Then I showed him my tongue, but because I was walking backwards trying to back away from him, I ended up walking into the table. And he laughed again.

Accepting my fate, I sat back down next to Anthony.

Jordan moved to the other side of the table and gave a questioning look to Aiden who had his eyes still tightly focused on his phone.
"Aiden where were you last night, I had a thing to tell you?"

"She was fucking his ex's best friend." Edwin answered for his twin brother without raising his gaze from his own phone.

I couldn't help but cough as I almost choked on the air.
"Umm..."

"Don't be a child." Edwin commented with a roll of his eyes. "Not like someone died."

"She is a child." Bryson spoke, giving an unimpressed look to his brother. "And doesn't need to hear about his brother's one-night stands."

"Jordan asked where he was..." Edwin shrugged. "And I answered: fucking a slu..."

It was funny how that one clear of throat was able to make the room fall into a total silence. A silence so silent that no one even really dared to take a breath. It was so silent that if someone had dropped a coin it would've been like someone had fired a gun. When the person stepped inside the whole atmosphere changed, all the faces, all the emotions. Even the weather outside changed.

No one dared to look at him.

"Westie..."

Weston Miller was the oldest of them all; the person with the most sense, power and authority. No one was better than him, no one ever won against him, and no one ever even dared to challenge him, not even look at his ice blue eyes.

My oldest brother.

That person was a copy of our father. His hair was the exact same shade of brown, and the hairstyle was the same. The coldness inside his eyes, the precise jawline, the stubble, and the eyebrows. They were exactly like father's. Actually, the only thing that the oldest Miller brother had gotten from Eloise Miller was the blue color of eyes. Other than that, he was a father's son. He was a father's son with his temper too.

Weston Miller hated nothing more than losing. He had to win, in one way or another. That became clear to all the siblings when we used to play boardgames together. If he didn't win, he lost his temper. But that almost never happened. The oldest Miller brother also hated disrespect. If someone disrespected him, well, the someone wasn't able to do that long.

Everything went like Weston wanted, always, until...

"Sorry?" Weston Miller turned his eyes towards me and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I said..." I shook my head. "Nothing, sorry."

He nodded his head.
"Good to see you."

"You too."

Weston Miller also used to be the favorite brother of the little Delilah. Secretly of course, because she didn't want to hurt the others' feelings. Whenever she had a nightmare, the only one allowed to comfort her was her oldest brother. Whenever she wanted food, Weston was the only one allowed to make her food. Whenever she wanted to go out to play, the only one allowed to watch her was Weston. Whenever she was angry, or sad, or scared, the only one able to calm her down was that oldest brother of hers.

Westie used to be her knight and shiny armor.

Now the same girl was scared to even look at him. I had to lower my head down so that brother couldn't hold his burning gaze on my eyes.

"You two..." Weston gave a look to the twins. "Watch out what you say when your little sister is in presence."

"Yeah, babies..." Anthony chuckled probably being happy that for once Weston didn't tell him off. "Watch your mouths."

Weston gave an unimpressed look to the brother next to me.
"And you and me are having a talk about borrowing someone's car and scratching it after being very clearly told not to do so."

"Shit."

Weston nodded his head with a tiny smirk falling on his lips.

"Shit indeed."

When he turned his back to us, I gave a reassuring pat on Anthony's shoulder mouthing a little prayer for him.

I don't know what I would've done if I had been in his situation. I would've probably died rather than had a talk with the oldest Miller sibling. Maybe I would've just run away and moved to Alaska alone. I don't know, but I know that I was going to do everything to stay away from a situation like that.

"And Delilah..." Weston turned his gaze to me again, making me cringe. "We are having a talk too, after dinner."

Anthony gave a reassuring pat on my shoulder.
"And the same prayer for you, idiot."