A/N: Hello! I just wanted to make something clear so there will be no confusion later on! I de-aged Gwendolyn one year, so instead of her turning 18 like I had originally planned, she will be turning 17 instead. Sorry for any confusion this change may have caused. I'm always editing and fixing things that I don't like haha! Enjoy this early chapter!!
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Saturday December 15.
Gwendolyn's seventeenth birthday.
She almost couldn't believe it when she woke up that morning, on the cusp of deciding to sleep in till lunchtime. However, she shook off her tiredness and threw on her most comfortable sweater, a champagne coloured cashmere one her mother had bought back in London for her Christmas last year.
As Gwendolyn, watched the fresh snowflakes fall from the gloomy looking sky, she thought, long and hard. Perhaps she could make it there and back quick enough that no one would notice her absence. She frowned at the remembrance that she couldn't buy flowers because they would never survive that long a winter as harsh as this. Gwendolyn placed her hand on her chin, blowing out a deep breath. What about her father? Should he come with her? Would he even be free enough to take a break? She knew of the upcoming midterm exams and he had to plan something.
With a few seconds of debate, Gwendolyn decided that she would go alone. She snatched the black ribbon from its place on her desk and threw on her coat while simultaneously grabbing a scarf. She tugged on her boots, opened the door and walked out, the tail end of her scarf billowing out from her hand.
***
"Hello...happy birthday...I miss you." Gwendolyn said feeling a rogue tear slip down her cheek. She stood in the frigid cold of the early morning, the wind blowing her hair in her mouth and her eyes. She pushed it out of the way and tied it back with the hair tie on her wrist.
Gwendolyn stared at the grave in front of her, examining the changes in the headstone compared to when she was there last. Kneeling down in the chilling, wet snow, she took her numb fingers and traced the name engraved on the stone, brushing off the bits of snow that had gotten stuck there.
Here lies:
Isla Rosemarie Keating
December 15, 1942–April 20, 1955
A beautiful daughter and a caring sister
May she rest in peace
Gwendolyn kept blinking, willing her tears not to fall. They did anyway, creating little droplets on the snow. Her tears had turned to full on sobs in a matter of seconds. She still couldn't believe she was dead. Even now, it didn't feel real. The hole in her heart that was left from grief had gotten no smaller and it certainly hadn't disappeared. Everyday, she put on a smile, tried to push away thoughts of her sister and her death and carry on like Isla would've wanted her to. But if she saw something that reminded Gwendolyn of Isla, the pain would slam into her so hard she could barely breathe.
At night, it was the hardest. Gwendolyn had all those thoughts that filled her head and she couldn't help but revolve straight back to Isla's death day. She cried many nights over it, her tears staining the pillows till morning, her eyes puffy and red. That's why she woke up so early. To prepare for the day.
"It's been nearly five years Isla." She put her hand on the gravestone, ignoring the cold bite of winter's teeth, "Five painful years where I long for you to come back everyday. Mum and Dad wish it too. We all want you back."
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𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐍 ~ 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲
Fanfiction𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖆 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖇𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙 There were no female students at Welton Academy. There never was and, most likely, there never would be. That is, until, a...
