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When Olivia Braverman disappears, leaving behind a simple letter and her only diary, it is up too her four older brothers too figure out where she went.
However this proves to be a challenge when The Braverman family realise just how little they...
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Chapter Two |The Lies.
The Braverman family all went to bed with heavy hearts, the cause of their restlessness. Their bodies kept awake by the thoughts of the youngest member of the Braverman family, young Olivia whom had consumed their minds.
The eldest child, Ian Braverman lay half in bed, his back resting on the oak wood headboard his grandfather had crafted with his bare hands, a blanket lazily thrown over his legs as his gaze stay trained to the leather bound book Olivia had left behind.
Ian couldn't bring himself to open the book. His bitter, foolish heart still finding blame in his sister for Marcia Braverman's death and he knew his hate was unjust but his heart still ached for his mother, still longed for her comfort. But perhaps it wasn't hate that held him back from opening the diary but guilt, that made him hesitate.
Ian could no longer bear the sight of Olivia's notebook, reaching his hand too his night stand Ian Braverman opened the draw above the cupboard to place the book within. When Ian pulled his hand back he felt a sharp edge, dig into his skin, a stabbing jolt following his movement as his finger thumped to the sound of his racing heart.
Ian pulled the broken frame out of his drawer, with shaking hands. Ian held the frame in his lap as he gazed upon the smiling family, they were happy. He watched as drops of salt water dripped upon the frame, his eyes burning as he looked upon his smiling mother as she looked down at a laughing Olivia. He and his brothers tackling the others and playing around as Jonathan stood in the middle smiling at his wife and daughter. A family, that no longer stood as one.
Ian closed his eyes, holding the framed photo close to his breaking heart, as his breathing steadied and he fell into a dark dreamless abyss.
His lasts thought being He wouldn't let go this time.
Similar to the eldest Braverman child, Jake Braverman lay awake in his bed. His room a mix of grey and blue, awards littering his walls, piles of files scattered on his desk, but he saw none of it in the dark room.
Jake Braverman's mind was alive with memories of his younger sister, the smile she always wore, the fire that had burned in her orbs, and the love she always seemed to give with little care of consequences. So quick to befriend, so quick to trust, so quick to take blame and yet every time she got hurt she smiled.
