Everything We Ever Wanted [Everything #1]

EWEW 15: Six Feet Beneath The Ground

L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2016 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Rewritten Chapter Posted - April 8th 2016

Not much to say except for this is a very emotional chapter! It's one that I'm very proud of with little flashback bits of Anna's life (so don't get too confused when you see paragraphs in italics!) Sam and Anna continue to make progress! As always, happy reading! xo

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{ Chapter 15 } : Six Feet Beneath The Ground

          A small fragment inside of me was finally pursuing the courage to face a small set of my demons.

I didn't know from where stemmed this newfound strength. I didn't know why I was only working up the courage to visit his grave one and a half year later, but I was doing it.

Last night I had a huge awakening when I sat around the dining table with my family and Sam, eating the dinner we'd prepared so notoriously. Every seat was occupied, except for that one - that one at the head of the table - where the ghost of a presence lingered.

My dinner had tasted like lead, and not the delicious aromatic meal Sam had helped me prepare. With every swallow, I felt acidic tendrils trickling down my organs until they gnawed at the remains of my insides. A gut-wrenching feeling settled inside of me, like a constant sucker punch to my stomach. The longer I stared at the empty seating, the longer my dinner rolled nauseously inside of my stomach.

My father always sat there. No one had sat there since he left. I think it was an action we repeated consciously - even little Michael - as if to confirm his standing in our lives, as if to solidify the fact that no one could hold that place.

I chose to walk to the cemetery instead of driving.

My decision was still a little clouded to me, just like the rest of my hazy mind. Was it because I wanted the fresh air to clear my head, or was it because I couldn't drown out my guilty thoughts with the deafening sound of R&B music if I drove my car there?

It was past eleven at night and bordering close to midnight. My mom and Michael were sound asleep, and no one knew I'd snuck out from my window using the wooden ladder I kept effectively propped up by the side of our brick wall for rebellious situations like these. No one knew.

Not even Sam.

It was the second week of September and despite it being night, the air was drenched with a sickeningly sticky humidity. The cemetery was a twenty minute walk from my place.

I knew walking alone at night was a foolish decision, but in my state of mind, I was finding I didn't care enough to acknowledge safety first. Emotions fueled my steps.

Last night I had a dream - a memory - of my last encounter, last conversation, with my father and I woke up soaked in sweat, hair matted to my forehead, blood pumping wildly through my veins, and a pounding headache simmering in the back of my neck.

My panting breaths eventually turned into a frantic and unexpected scream that ripped out of me.

No one in my house woke up. No one but Sam.

I knew it was him, because at the other end of my locked door, I heard heavy footfalls - footfalls so heavy they couldn't have belonged to my mom or brother - similar to a giant green-eyed-blonde-haired athlete with an even gigantic heart and caring personality.