𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 - e.d. [ completed ]

Sixteen

Sorry it took so long, but here it is haha enjoy 😊

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A couple days later...

Ethan

I stare at the almost empty glass cup in front of me.

I lift it up to my lips, lingering the cold rim on my lip before downing the rest of the heavy alcohol.

It's her birthday. Exactly three years since she left.

Since my Ana left for the afterlife.

Through all the times we talked about her death, nothing really prepared me for her departure. And even now after three years she's been gone, I sometimes still feel like she took a part of me with her. Like that part could never be filled.

Emma reminds me of Ana so much. She's small and timid, shy, but she can still be feisty if she wants to. But with Emma it's different. Ana always carried a spark in her eyes, she was so full of life.

And Emma's eyes are full of pain, heart ache and anxiety. There were moments when I thought I saw a spark in her eyes, and those are really the best parts of my days. It makes me happy to make her happy.

Ana would want me to move on, find someone to replace her, but I know I will never be able to replace Ana. I know it in my heart it's just not possible. No matter how hard I'll try, she will always be a part of me. We were childhood friends, and she was my first love. I'll never forget Ana.

Yet, no one says I can't fall in love again. In a different way than I fell in love with Ana. I will always love her. But I know I can love Emma too. And this time it's going to be different.

This time I'm going to save her. This time she won't leave me. This time I won't let her get hurt.

This time it's going to be a newer, different love.

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I knock on Emma's front door, I didn't really text her I was coming, I just figured she would be home, she usually is, figuring it's summer.

I wanted to surprise her.

But the door is opened by her grandmother. "Hi, Mrs. Clive, I mean, Martha, I'm just here to see Emma." I say, ready to step in, but her words stop me.

"Oh, she's not at home. She at her psychiatrist session just like every Thursday at 6 pm. Didn't she tell you?" she says, confused.

I furrowed my eye brows. "No, she failed to mention that." How could she not tell me she was seeing a psychiatrist? I know she had a panic attack, but I never knew it was so serious she needed a professional help.

I wonder what happened to her. What left behind the scars? The inner and outer ones.

"Come in, she's going to be home soon, I'm going to pour us some ice tea and we'll chat and wait for her."

She invites me in and pretty soon I'm sitting at the kitchen counter with a cold glass of peach ice tea in my hands. The drink was fresh out the refrigerator and cold enough to fog up the glass, leaving my hand wet when touched it.