Always Only You (Rewriting)

01| Unus

I tried to drown my sorrows, but that bastard learned how to swim

- Frida Khale

Leah's Pov:

"Let's think of happy thoughts," I hum to myself as I grab my stick. I am so useless without it. Wanting to go outside for a stroll, I open the door of my cheap apartment and inhale the cool air.

Perfect.

It's dark, but I am not bothered by it. Girls might get scared walking alone in the evenings but I don't, because I'm blind. Not fully blind really, I can see blurry dark silhouettes of objects that are really hazy. Basically I'm not as blind as a bat, but close enough.

I've become used to it now.

Three years have passed since that day. My career crumbled; I couldn't face my sister or friends as I was filled with self-disgust and hatred towards myself, and I didn't want their pity. My sister must hate me for taking her parents away from her and robbing her of a normal life. I've made her an orphan.

I miss her dearly but I can't face her yet. I am thankful that at least she wasn't a part of the accident as well. Luckily she was at home studying for that Algebra test that my parents wanted her to ace. I hate math, but it was her saving grace.

"Take me as well!" my sister begged me as she batted her eyelashes, looking at me with her big brown eyes as she kept tugging the edge of my grey coat.

"No hon, you have to study," my mom said, shaking her head.

"But I'm done studying. I want to see sis perform!" she pleads.

She was a carbon copy of my mother, who had brown eyes, and a petite figure with blond wavy hair. I on the other hand, was tall with long straight hazelnut hair and blue eyes, getting my genes from my father. People told us that we looked similar, though I wondered how.

I patted her head. "Lily, I'll take you next time," I console her as she pouts. I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the cab.

"Study hard and don't open the door for strangers. Aunt May will be staying with you after her hospital shift ends," my father tells her as we get into the car.

I watched her figure standing in our driveway, sad and disappointed. I smiled at her and mouthed 'next time' as she frowns.

Little did I know that there would be no next time.

At least she is living a good life with my aunt and uncle now. 

I miss my dancing too. It was fun and exhilarating. While I danced I felt free, a feeling that I can't describe in words. The emotions I felt when we received applause or praise made me content, I had finally found my purpose in life and my parents supported me fully. I miss my practice sessions and hangouts with friends. The time I had spent practicing, all the sweat and pain was all worth it.

I don't have that anymore.

These thoughts keep me occupied as I walk down the lonely alley with the staccato rhythm of the crickets as they chirp away into the night.

My spirit lifts when I turn at the corner, slowly approaching the 10 year old express mall. I swing my bag containing a homemade casserole for my good friend Mr. Jones. I stop next to the parking lot of the big mall. I have been good friends with the 50 year old man, who I had met a few months back when he helped me carry my groceries that had fallen on the floor.

He has a lovely wife, a son and two grand kids and they were all he ever talked about. It was fun listening to his stories as he is the only friend that I talk to. Sad, I know, but he was the only one I have now.

The accident caused me to cut off contact with all my friends. It was tough at first with my disability, to learn braille and move round dependently without anyone having to guide me. After eight months of therapy and braille lessons I decided to disappear once and for all.

With the help of a friend, I got an apartment without telling anyone else. There wasn't going to be much use drowning in self pity and I didn't want to burden my aunt and sister so I decided to get a part time job and I got one, nearby place, at a nursery. Not the one with kids, I wouldn't be able to look after them even though I love children, but the one with flowers. I just had to pour water over them which was a simple task really. The owner was a kind lady and hired me even though she didn't really need help. Secretly I knew that I wasn't of much use as well.

I reach the parking lot and walk towards to the small quarters, or the booth where my friend would wait for me on a regular basis.

"Hi, Mister!" I enthusiastically greet him but instead of a reply, I'm greeted by silence.

I hear a cough and a person clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones has taken leave. His wife isn't well, till then I will be taking this shift."

Why didn't he tell me? I wonder.

I smile listening to the person's voice. "He is definitely not American,"  I note, detecting a hint of accent in the way he pronounced his words.

When I was little my mother told me to never talk to strangers. I know that I shouldn't talk to a guy randomly. My mind tells me to get out, but my heart screams 'stay'. 

"That's okay."

 I find myself smiling. I must be looking like a fool right now, grinning from ear to ear. Shaking my head, I shove the food towards him. "What's this?" he asks, puzzled.

I giggle to myself, listening to the stranger's confused voice. I wonder how he looks. I close my eyes as his musky scent draws me closer and I find myself saying, "Dinner."

A/N:

I figured that I would update today since I have a bit of time on my hands.