UNBREAK | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 5)

[ 02 ]

Hand in hand, Aine and Aion apparated together back to their home. With a gust of wind and a split crackle, Aine and her brother landed softly on the lush velvety ground, the sight of their destroyed home welcoming them. Though it has only been a week since they had come home, the once perfectly maintained garden had gone dull and lifeless, and the crops that their family had planted had all wilted. Once beautiful and vibrant flowers were all withered, drooping sadly and damaged by the invasion. 

Aion nudged his sister who could only stare blankly at her broken home, everything had changed when they were not around, it was like all life had seeped away like the unfateful day their father was murdered. Aine followed her brother, walking through the front entrance where splinters of wood poked in all directions. The door creaked open and they entered their wrecked house.

Aine had let go of Aion's hand, aimlessly walking around her living room. Windows were smashed into shards littered across the floor, and the pieces of furniture were destroyed, parts of it sprawled here and there. Frames were hanging on for dear life at a tilted angle almost as if a gentle breeze could cause them to fall. Everything was just in tatters, making the whole place soulless and grim. It didn't even feel like their home anymore, it was light a typhoon had come and annihilated the place. 

It didn't feel right anymore. 

She glanced to the kitchen where Aion had headed first to repair the damage. Her gaze fell on the spot where her father lay in pieces. There was an empty space where they once were, debris surrounding the hollow spot. Her father was nowhere to be seen. Figured... she thought to herself. Her father couldn't possibly be still in pieces scattered on the floor. However, where exactly he was, was something both the Estoileons did not know. There was no doubt that someone had taken care of the remains of their father while they were in the Malfoy Manor, Whether he had been taken away, buried or even further reduced was a mystery that neither of them had answers to. It was something they'll find out soon enough.

Aine strode towards the fireplace and stopped at the armchair her father usually sat watching the flames with her. She felt a prickling sensation in her eyes and fought back her tears. She pushed the knocked-over chair upright, fixing it to the spot it had always been before restoring the rest of their fallen furniture and decorations, in hopes that putting everything back to where it was could ease her heart a little. 

Then she halted and picked up a broken picture frame, brushing the glass shards away. She manages to smile a little at the moving picture of the three of them that they had taken over the holidays. Elliot was hugging his children from behind, laughing brightly while Aion winks to the camera, ruffling his younger sister's hair as she gasped, in disbelief that he ruined her hair. Even so, they all wore happy smiles when the picture was taken. 

A sharp exhale left Aine, looking away to distract herself from the sadness that continues to drown the girl. She clutched the picture in her hand tightly and proceeded upstairs. Though their rooms were all pretty much intact, it was still in a mess except it wasn't as horrible as downstairs. Her eyes gazed around the open doors, every room was thoroughly searched with many items knocked over to the ground and spoiled. She spotted her father's room and gulped, hesitantly pushing open the already ajar door.

Despite not being around for some time, the nostalgia crept onto Aine as she went into Elliot's room. There was still a faint scent of her father lingering in the air and the girl closes her eyes, finding the tiniest bit of comfort in it. Whilst many of his books were left thrown across the wooden floors with papers decorating them, Elliot's bed was untouched. And so was the neatly folded jacket he often wears. 

Aine reaches for it and buried herself in the piece of clothing, taking a moment to recollect herself. She sat on the edge of his bed, staring dolefully around as the wind whispered by, sending the papers all over the ground to dance. She noticed Elliot's potion journal next to his bed, sitting on the nightstand and she picks it up. Her eyes welled up when she flipped through the pages that were filled with meticulous notes that he had taken over the course of years, scribbled in ink that flowed through the pages. She skimmed through the thick journal, there were still a few more many more pages that needed to be filled out until the entire book was full and some with tabs on them still had little to no information written out.