When she died it was like a part of me left with her. The sweet innocent side that thought her mother would somehow escape death taking her.
But that never happened.
He took her and left me with the rude, awkward, no acceptance for makeup, man named Julian Calavera. The neurosurgeon who my mom had grown to love like a brother. He was emotionless, smart, the best surgeon in the entire east coast. The guy was drowning in money and decided to actually adopt me and help the lost girl.
When she died I felt like it was the end of the world. I lost the one person who loved me enough to tolerate me. I lost the woman who made me breakfast in the morning and made sure I ate. I lost the woman who would put my health over her's.
When she died I felt the need to find my father. The sorry bastard that left me when I was years old. The man who I mailed letters to everyday for three years telling him about my day and asking why he wouldn't come back. But when I did find him he was content with his new family. The perfect little family who had a golden retriever and a big house. His other daughters were perfect in every way possible.
When she died I lost my innocence. I wasn't cheerful anymore. I wanted to make my dad suffer like he did to me and mom. I convinced doctor Hotshot to move across the country where he was. Colorado.
When she died I lost respect for the man who I once loved. I was going to get revenge for my mother. She didn't deserve the pain she had when he left. She didn't deserve to die the way she did. She wasn't valued the way she should have been. The man who should have loved her should have kept her on a pedestal. Worshipped her. Loved her. And when she was, it was too late.
When she died Davina Fitzgerald died. Davina Devereaux was born and she wasn't going to be the other girl anymore.