Lars Crawford was a simple teen. He loved his siblings, loved baseball, loved life until a tragic accident ripped his older brother away along with his left arm.
Now he lives his life serving after school detention from fights he faught for his best...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
< -- twenty - two -- >
• •
White
White petals with a yellow center.
A picture - no, several pictures of a single white flower at different angles. A flower that represented new beginnings. Whether it meant a new life with someone in it or a new life without them. It was a life that was unlike the day before. A new day. A new beginning. A new story to tell.
Hearing a sniff I forced myself to look. To look at the woman who had to bury her eldest son two years ago, a woman that held her daughter while he cried over her big brother being gone. A woman that stood tall during separation from a man who was supposed to love her unconditionally.
Three rows in front of me, my mother sat four chairs away from my father. Legs crossed, eyes swollen and red. Wrinkled tissues bawled in her fist the top of her scrubs held drops of tears that fell from her chin.
Eyes that used to smile. Eyes that used to cry from laughing too hard and happiness now held tears of worry and pain. Pain from not knowing if she would have to bury another child because I was being reckless, again.
Too busy doing my own thing not being responsible for the lives around me, I didn't stay outside to watch my sister. I should have stayed in the back where I could make sure she didn't swim further than the shallow end. I should have told her to stay inside! I should have told her to play in the house and told her friends to go away! I shouldn't have let her puppy dog eyes get me to change my mind. I knew - me, her older brother. Her big brother that's supposed to protect her and make sure she's doing what she's supposed to do so no harm comes to her. Me! Again! A dumbass that let something happen to my sibling . . . and because I couldn't be a responsible person, we sat in the waiting room because of me . . . again.
It's all my fault
"It is." A deep voice spoke.
Without needing to turn my head I knew my father was speaking. The hate in his voice sent chills over my skin. I knew my father didn't love me as much as he loved Cas or Eloise. Cas was his star son. He played baseball to perfection. He listened and took every chance he had to go to a baseball game with dad. Then Eloise, the precious daughter he didn't think he could have. So full of laughter and love like his wife then there was me. The middle child that was supposed to be the girl he wanted so they could stop at two kids. The middle child that talked back and preferred to be alone playing his guitar. I was like a gnat that wouldn't get out of his face. A reminder of how his life took a turn for the worse.
"David, you better watch your mouth." Mom whispered harshly.
"I'm tired of holding my tongue Angie!" His voice echoed through the spacious hospital turning heads of other families waiting for updates.
